#this shit would drive anybody to the brink

[spite-and-waffles]

Trying hard to enjoy a well-written fic, but the Tim woobification is borderline painful. Author is so mad at every single character who ever gave Tim a boo-boo in canon they had to transplant him into an entirely new universe.

I adore my boy as much as anybody, but this level of projecting only on one single character just to nurse a giant victim complex is why Tim stans give me a fucking migraine.

#y'all are like aliens to me I swear #is there anybody this fic *doesn't* bash? #cassandra straight up doesnt even exist lmao #what did she even do #12k kudos and 2.7k comments jesus wept #sometimes I really have to sympathize with people who hate Tim #this shit would drive anybody to the brink #sighhhhh #*keeps reading* #tim drake #spite waffle #fandom wank #anti bruce wayne

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

#bnha 299 #takami keigo #hawks (bnha) #best jeanist #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I found peace in your violence #can't tell me there's no point in trying #I'm at one #and I've been quiet for too long

[panharmonium]

THAT is the importance of an adult who Understands.

one of the things that i always come back to when i think about sasuke is that sasuke has virtually everybody in the village fooled.  you couldn’t find a more messed up kid in all the hidden leaf if you tried, but you wouldn’t know it to look at him, because he can’t afford to acknowledge or display weakness - firstly, because weakness means he isn’t strong enough to take on itachi, and secondly, because signs of struggle on sasuke’s part might mean that an authority figure tries to involve themself in his life, and sasuke doesn’t want anyone interfering in something he sees as a personal quest.  he doesn’t see himself as a child who needs to be looked after by adults; he sees himself as an adult in a frustratingly small body, and he wants all the other adults to leave him alone and let him do what he needs to do.  he doesn’t want meddling.  he wants everyone who has the power to potentially keep him from getting what he most desires to remain oblivious to his true state of mind, to not look too closely, to never see a child in distress, because if he ever lets on that he doesn’t have his shit together, it’s possible that one of the leaf’s less negligent grown-ups will swoop down on him and start trying to intervene/“parent” him, which to sasuke’s mind just means “get in the way.”  

sasuke, who has long felt like he’s already an adult dealing with adult problems, won’t tolerate that.  so he masks his issues, to the point where he has virtually everyone around him completely deceived.  his regular schoolteachers don’t worry about him - he’s a high achiever, he gets perfect grades, he’s top of his class in everything, he doesn’t make trouble.  his classmates don’t worry about him - they buy the ‘i’m so cool, nothing fazes me’ act and worship at his feet, even as he demonstrates that he wants nothing to do with them.  the rest of the leaf village doesn’t worry about him, either - they see him as a source of village pride (and a source of entertainment/drama, like when they’re all so excited to watch The Last Uchiha fight for their nation during the chunin exams).  even though sasuke is so messed up on the inside, the exterior facade he presents to people is specifically designed to prevent any wondering about how he’s doing.  as far as the world can see, he’s doing Just Fine (and while everyone is busy not wondering about his health, he can get down to the business of getting his revenge).

sasuke’s strategy for relating to other people is, essentially, the opposite of naruto’s approach.  naruto, in his early childhood, draws as much attention to himself as possible, causing all sorts of mayhem, in the hope that someone, somewhere will see him.  he makes trouble and causes problems precisely because he desperately wants someone to acknowledge his pain, and that’s how he ends up landing iruka as an adult support figure, because iruka notices what’s happening and decides to get involved.  sasuke, in contrast to naruto, doesn’t want anyone to acknowledge or even notice his pain, because if they do notice it, they might try to stop him from pursuing what he thinks is the only way to alleviate it.  that’s not an acceptable outcome for him, so instead of making a scene and calling attention to himself, he hides in plain sight. 

sasuke doesn’t want people to get involved in his life.  he wants to be left to his own devices.  he doesn’t think he needs (read: deserves) anybody’s help, and some tiny part of him knows that a Responsible Adult might raise their eyebrows at what he’s doing to himself, so he uses his “high-achiever, too cool for school” persona to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes.  and he almost succeeds - until kakashi enters the picture.  kakashi, who can’t be fooled.  kakashi, who has known from Day One, Minute One exactly what goal is driving all of sasuke’s high achievement, and who knows that sasuke is NOT okay, in either the head or the heart.  kakashi, who in the above gifset can tell that sasuke is having a crisis without even turning around.  kakashi doesn’t need to be shown evidence before he gets concerned.  he’s known from the very start that sasuke is struggling, because he lived through similar pains and tried to cope with them in similarly unhealthy ways (remember: “useless things like emotions only get in the way”/“having too many ties in this world will only lead you astray” + “everyone you’re talking about has already been killed”/“they’re all dead...because i wasn’t strong enough to save them”).

sasuke still tries to put up the front.  a few scenes prior to the above gifset, sasuke is the one who is making fun of naruto for freezing up - you’re not hurt, are you...scaredy-cat.  and he completely fools his peers with his attitude - sakura’s got stars in her eyes, naruto’s super jealous; both of them think sasuke’s So Cool and Super Powerful and Not Afraid of Anything!

but when sasuke himself is confronted with a serious, imminent threat to his life (one against which his supposedly “advanced” skills are useless, one from which he can’t protect himself; aka, one where he’s suddenly reminded that he’s actually a twelve year-old genin and his safety is out of his control, just like it was the night his family was murdered), he’s the one who panics.  the other kids are scared, too - but sasuke completely loses it.  he almost kills himself to get away from the intensity of his fear.  *cough* it’s the ptsd *cough* but anyway -

kakashi is able to sense this without even turning around.  he’s preparing to fight an aggressor under the least ideal circumstances possible - they were supposed to be on a mission where it was four people protecting one man, but because tazuna lied to them, they’re now in a situation where it’s one man protecting four people, including three children - and even with all of that competing for his attention, kakashi is still focusing closely enough on each individual kid to sense that sasuke is going off the rails.  without even turning around, he knows.

we all remember this, right?

it doesn’t matter how much of an act sasuke puts on.  kakashi has been there.  he knows better.  he can’t be fooled.  he calls for sasuke by name and pulls him back from the brink.

kakashi interrupts this crisis so effectively.  not only is he able to snap sasuke out of his panic, but he’s also careful to then extend his reassurance to everyone present, accomplishing the dual purposes of calming everyone else down and also redirecting attention away from sasuke’s more extreme reaction, which the others haven’t noticed yet.  it’s deftly done.  it addresses sasuke’s crisis on an individual level without putting him in the spotlight.  it works.  the way sasuke relaxes in that last gif...man.

calm down.  i’ll protect you with my life.

i’ve already talked a little bit about how much it would mean for somebody with sasuke’s particular history to hear that (especially when those words are spoken by an adult who follows through on the promise every single time), but here i just want to focus on the fact that the only reason sasuke is lucky enough to receive this reassurance in the first place is because kakashi isn’t fooled by sasuke pretending he doesn’t need to hear it.  kakashi and the kids are very new to each other at this point, but even so, kakashi still understands sasuke better than any other adult in the hidden leaf.  he’s the first authority figure who sasuke hasn’t been able to trick into obliviousness - sasuke can’t pretend away his problems in front of someone who used to have all those same problems himself!  kakashi is too savvy to be waved away with the whole ‘i’m super advanced for my age i don’t need any help don’t look behind my mask’ charade.  kakashi invented that game.  he knows it’s one you don’t want to win.  he won it himself, when he played it, and winning just meant that everybody took him at his word when he acted like he was fine and nobody ever gave him the kind of help he needed.  he’s not going to let another kid get away with the same self-destructive shenanigans, not when he’s around to call their bluffs and be the kind of support structure he himself could’ve benefited from when he was younger.   

#naruto #pan watches naruto #meta #he's like me #* #haven't written tracts upon tracts of thoughts about these two for a couple days so you knew it was coming #i think about kakashi calling for sasuke in this moment at least once a day #the utter certainty in his voice when he tells sasuke 'calm down. i'll protect you with my life' #sasuke has never ever had anybody talk to him like that in his life #the dramatic change in his expression in that last gif......the Relief #for a first brief moment in five years sasuke feels.......................safe #literally i will NEVER be over kakashi managing to reach this kid #who thinks he's too strong to need adult assistance and in too much pain for anyone to ever understand #'i DO know how you feel' #every single day i think about that #the power behind 'trust me' #especially where i'm at in the show now #when sasuke has never been able to trust ANY of the adults in his life #his parents; itachi; his own community's government; orochimaru; 'madara' #everybody lying to him or using him for something #for him to have one adult who said from the very beginning #'my first priority is your safety. i will die before anything happens to you' #and for that person to make good on that statement again and again #that means so much #even if sasuke can't recognize it right now #someday......he'll see more clearly

[laniidae-passerine]

See, the big problem with Hitch is that he talks a lot about himself, but it’s near impossible to tell if he’s lying or not.

So, I’m going to collect information about him from the books that I think is either most definitely true or could possibly be true. Any other information I’ll discount as a lie or impossible to tell if it’s true, and I won’t write it down. Reminder that I don’t own books 2 or 3 and there are spoilers! below. Let’s begin!

Look Into My Eyes

He’s first described as basically a knockout stunner who walked out of almost everyone’s dreams. And so was I just not supposed to love him? Unrealistic.

“But when Ruby answered the door she was surprised to see a remarkably handsome, rather tall, formally dressed man. He was neither particularly young nor would he ever be considered in any way old - in fact it was impossible to really put any accurate age on him.” [page 46]

He’s apparently a man of culture, because he instantly knows what designer Sabina is talking about in regards to her jacket.

“‘Well it is an Oscar Birdet, maybe they felt a little out their depth?’” [page 51]

While he’s obviously very good at his job, he’s not so humble as to not be pleased with himself. He knows he’s good at what he does.

“Ruby looked up to see the amused face of Hitch. He looked kind of pleased with himself, which irritated her.” [page 55]

He’s surprised by just how observant Ruby is, clearly underestimating her right out of the gate.

“‘I’m surprised you noticed (my arm injury).’ And he was surprised too; he thought he had concealed his arm injury well.” [page 56]

Even a man of taste can’t help showing off, and it seems like every guy with enough money lining his pockets likes a nice car, as indicated by his colour choice in convertible.

“‘Well that might explain the flashy car - he’s got this silver convertible.’” [page 62]

He knows a stylist?

“Hope you approve. Had my stylist friend Billie pick these things out for you - she’s good at that kind of thing. Hitch.” [page 81]

He doesn’t have a peanut allergy, lucky him.

“He looked up, startled, and immediately began to spread it with peanut butter. ‘Toast?’ he said.” [page 81]

I am physically aching with how much Lauren Child loves to remind us how hot Hitch is - give us a break, or else I might cry with how good looking he is. But just in case you forgot, let’s remind ourselves about how Hitch is the most attractive man alive! Also, he’s got brown or hazel eyes, Mrs Bexenheath hasn’t decided yet.

“Mrs Bexenheath, the school secretary, looked up to see at what first glance she imagined to be some Hollywood film star. It was as if he had accidentally strayed off the ‘walk of fame’ and wandered unwittingly into the shabby halls of Twinford Junior High - so entirely out of place was he. However, this handsome man struck up and easy conversation with her and before a minute had passed Mrs Bexenheath had found herself agreeing to excuse Ruby Redfort from all lessons for the foreseeable future. She had concentrated carefully, all the while staring into his Hollywood eyes, wondering if they were brown or were they hazel.” [pages 105 and 106]

He knows he’s so attractive that he can just make stuff up and like Ruby, he’s one hell of a liar.

“‘Well, it seems that your grandmother had contracted a rare but not infectious virus while bird watching in the Australian Alps - condition, serious,’ Hitch said, turning the key in the ignition. ‘There are no Australian Alps,’ said Ruby. ‘Well someone should have told your grandmother that because now look at her.’” [page 106]

Hitch doesn’t know shit about children or teenagers until he meets Ruby, and that’s a goddamn fact.

“‘Buzz, give the kid a little tour of the gadget room,’ said Hitch. ‘That’ll keep her out of trouble.’ He was wrong about that.” [page 110]

Now for the moment that made me think he was cute when I reread the books as a teen - he’s not above messing with people and enjoys a good joke now and then.

“‘OK,’ said Hitch, holding his finger to his temple as if he was channelling the information. ‘I’m guessing... chocolate raspberry, strawberry frosting, rainbow sprinkles - am I right?’ Elliot, speechless, handed over the donut.” [page 148 and 149]

And the moment that made me realise I adored him. God yes he’s very handsome and yes he’s got money and yes he’s a secret agent but I’d trade all of that, just for a guy who admits when he’s been stupid. And somehow he can do that while also having and being all of the above.

“When he (Hitch) came in he said, ‘Look kid, maybe part of this is my fault, I accept that, I’ve been kinda ribbing you and talking down to you - so maybe you and I need to start over?’” [page 171]

He likes some of the finer things in life.

“Back at Cedarwood Drive, Ruby went downstairs to find Hitch, who was sitting in his small but comfortable apartment, listening to music and reading some papers.” [page 178]

He’s a charmer, obviously.

“It occurred to Ruby that Consuela was rather over dressed for this task, the stiletto heels and painted fingernails seeming to be more of a hindrance than a help. She was also laughing rather too much [at Hitch’s jokes], that sort of random giggling that certain girls at Ruby’s school broke into whenever Richie Dare walked past.” [page 181]

I don’t actually think he’s assigned to Spectrum 8 - he’s apparently not a Twinfordite or based in California as he implies when he’s about to leave the Redfort house,

“‘What is it? I got a plane to catch in less than,” Hitch looked at his watch, ‘seventeen minutes.’” [page 294]

He’s got a temper on him, and can get angry rather quickly if someone’s done something stupid.

“As he drove, Hitch thought about Ruby. He was about as angry as he had ever been. What on earth had gotten into the kid?” [page 297]

He doesn’t like Froghorn a the beginning of the books and also he’s the sick in the stomach guilt kinda guy.

“Hitch was feeling horrible - the kind of guilt that causes nausea. Why hadn’t he listened, he never should have let LB assign that numbskull.” [page 328]

He owns a gun and I’d assume it’s Spectrum issued.

“You tell him kid, hissed Hitch, his hand reaching for his revolver.” [page 378]

I can’t say for sure, but I have this feeling that he and Nine Lives were kinda close in the way that you must be if you’re continually trying to kill one another. (I’ve always thought of her as being smart enough to be a Spectrum agent but always refusing Hitch’s offers to join when they were younger, and he finally gave up when she started recreationally killing but that’s just my personal head-canon!) Anyway, her death has him feeling some kinda way.

“(Valerie) looked up at Hitch. ‘You killed me?’ she said as she slid to the floor. In her left hand the diamond revolver glittered, a pool of crimson forming where she lay. For just a second the three figures were frozen. Hitch had so many times fought Nine Lives only to watch her somehow leap to her escape - wounded but always alive. Could it really be over?” [page 381]

Feel the Fear

What does Hitch fear? LB? Death? Bears? No. He fears the most dangerous thing of all - meter-maids.

“Ruby looked up to see a tall, well-groomed man in a well-cut suit standing in the room. He appeared moderately anxious. ‘Am I making you nervous?’ asked Ruby. ‘The only person making me nervous is the meter maid on 3rd Avenue where I’m double-parked.’” [page 26]

He’s a trustworthy guy, so not just all stunningly good looks then.

“That was the thing about Hitch: he kept his mouth shut. He had to: 𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘊𝘛𝘙𝘜𝘔 𝘙𝘜𝘓𝘌 1: 𝘒𝘌𝘌𝘗 𝘐𝘛 𝘡𝘐𝘗𝘗𝘌𝘋. as one of the highest-ranking agents at Spectrum 8, he was trusted with heavily classified information. He didn’t squeal for anything or anybody.” [pages 28 and 29]

He loves Ruby, most definitely, like some kinda surrogate agent dad but by god how did he end up here?

“So how had a top-notch spy wound up working undercover as a bodyguard to a thirteen year old kid? Hitch, for one, asked himself this question practically every day.” [page 29]

It’s implied he’s never worked an actual real job in his life - obviously or else he’d have the worn down look of everyone who’s ever had to take a job in retail.

“‘No Redfort, not really, at least I doubt it, but they might fire me.’ ‘That would suck,’ she said. Hitch nodded. ‘Yes it would. I’d have to go and get a real job.’ He shuddered. ‘I’m sure my parents would keep you on.’ ‘Yes,’ said Hitch. ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.’” [page 50]

He never sleeps. He never looks sleepy. All a man born in 1930 knows is coffee, play his clarinet, not sleep, be bisexual, work as an agent and lie.

“Didn’t matter what time of day or night, Ruby had never caught Hitch unprepared, asleep or even on the brink of dozing off.” [page 131]

He has the dad act down to the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” voice.

“At that exact moment Hitch’s voice was the best sound Ruby had ever heard, even though it in fact sounded sort of furious. He wasn’t shouting, which made it worse, his voice heavy with disappointment, his expression telling her that at that very moment he wasn’t exactly pleased to see her breathing but was relieved that he hadn’t had to pick up the Ruby-shaped pieces.” [page 176]

He is apparently knowledgeable about French Antique furniture, specifically that of the 1700’s.

“Clancy led Hitch to his mother’s dressing room and Hitch surveyed the damage. He winced, ran his fingers over the wood. ‘Pear and walnut, made in the French provinces.’ He opened the drawers and examined their construction. ‘Circa 1727, very typical.’ He looked underneath the table top; found what he was looking for. ‘Surprising.’ Then he took a magnifier from his bag, held it over the damaged wood of the table. ‘A quality piece.’” [pages 210 and 211]

Listen, when I said he had money, I wasn’t joking. To misquote somebody, I don’t love him cause he’s rich, but it sure doesn’t hurt.

“Hitch took a fat wodge of twenty dollar bills from his wallet, peeled off a large number and handed them to the guy in charge, shook them all by the hand and watched them leave.” [page 211]

Hitch implies he’s attracted to women, but that’s not news to us because he’s obviously bi, duh.

“‘I think someone just tried to kill me.’ ‘You’re looking at the next guy in line - I just happened to be having dinner two blocks away with a very charming meter maid.’” [page 322]

He’s got a vaguely recognisable aesthetic.

“Ruby knew the Charles Burger, and upmarket burger grill place, with green leather banquette seating and polished wood tables. It was very Hitch somehow.” [page 366]

He can do parkour. It’s amazing.

“‘Let me explain.’ Without warning, Hitch ran. He was across the parking lot in the blink of any eye and headed straight towards a high brick wall - but he didn’t stop, he didn’t slow his pace, he ran at the wall and then up the wall, and when he got to the top... (insert long description of very cool parkour antics)” [page 372]

I literally do not understand how this handsome superman type of guy is single. How?! HE CAN JUMP BETWEEN WHOLE BUILDINGS!

“The crowd gasped as the woman flailed in the sky, and then they gasped again to see a figure in all black fly across the spotlight’s beam to snatch her from the dark.” [pages 478 and 479]

Pick Your Poison

Nobody knows an actual fact about Hitch and it’s very painful.

“‘When it comes to Hitch, I think it’s hard to know what’s true. You think you know him but, look at it this way, what do I really have as hard evidence? Do I know anything?’ ‘You know he likes coffee,’ suggested Clancy. ‘What I know Clance,’ corrected Ruby, ‘is that Hitch drinks coffee and a lot of it, but does he drink it because he likes the taste of it or because she need to keep from falling asleep? Well, it’s anybody’s guess.’” [page 31]

In case you forgot, because it really doesn’t get said often, Hitch is very attractive.

“She didn’t immediately spot Hitch. He was browsing chickpeas: a tall, good-looking man, wearing an elegant raincoat over a dark suit.” [page 60]

Dad jokes!

“‘Isn’t this a bit inconvenient?’ said Ruby. ‘I mean, having to walk through a store every time you want to reach Spectrum?’ ‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘It’s a convenience store.’” [page 60]

This isn’t really a fact about him, but this part always makes me laugh so here we go.

“Hitch, who was standing behind Ruby, was trying silently mouth something to SJ and making a sort of cutting motion with his hand as if to say ‘stop talking’, but SJ wasn’t reading this and instead was making it abundantly clear that she was marking this incident up as attempted murder.” [page 228]

The amount of sass contained within one man... legendary.

“‘Kid, don’t you worry about your mother, I got that covered. I have someone watching her, just a precaution.’ ‘I hadn’t noticed,’ said Ruby. Hitch looked heavenwards. ‘He’s a professional, you’re not meant to notice.’” [page 228]

This quote is pretty self explanatory.

“‘So who’s the Aikido master?’ ‘That would be me,’ said Hitch.” [page 250]

He does in fact like coffee!

“‘Same place,’ said Hitch. ‘I only told you Lucello’s because the coffee’s good.’” [page 348]

We get a rare moment of Hitch actually chilling out and eating food!

“Hitch was there, eating a Digby club sandwich (a Mrs Digby special) and he raised a hand in greeting when she walked in.” [page 393]

Even secret agents want their downtime, and are prone to laziness.

“‘You couldn’t fix it yourself?’ ‘Sure I could,’ said Hitch. ‘It’s a simple case of replacing the valve, which if I’m looking at it correctly is a 3/4 inch ceramic. But I’ve got bigger fish to fry.’ [page 394]

He’s capable of getting shouty when he’s being told he can’t do his job properly.

“‘You didn’t have any traffic,’ said Ruby, angrily, ‘you came by helicopter, and by the way I radioed for assistance more than forty minutes back.’ ‘Well, that seems unlikely since we got no call.’ They were almost shouting at each other now.” [page 476]

Just like I mentioned with Blacker, it seems Hitch contributes to some of the dark humour at Spectrum 8.

“Hitch: ‘You don’t have to convince me, you should see the state she left Baby Face in - or rather I should say, states.’ Delaware: ‘How do you mean? Where is he now?’ Hitch: ‘Well, he left his heart in San Francisco.’ Blacker: “His head was found in Monterrey.’ Hitch: ‘And his legs have yet to show.’ LB: ‘Excuse me?’ Blacker: ‘He’s a goner.” [page 503]

Blink and You Die

Both Clancy and Ruby trust their agent dad.Also, I feel like Hitch is actually the closest thing to a dad that Clancy has, because his actual dad sucks, and that just gets me. 

“‘So you’re going to have to talk to Hitch. You trust him, don’t you?’ ‘A hundred per cent,’ said Ruby.” [page 96]

He’s notable for his on-time nature.

“She sat down. All the seats around her were unoccupied and there was no sign of Hitch. Mr Punctuality appeared to be late.” [page 103]

Although I think he might be lying, it seems like Hitch enjoys stargazing.

“‘I like that place,’ said Hitch. ‘The planetarium?’ ‘Yeah, like I said, I find it soothing.’” [page 108]

He’s sincere enough to convince LB to do things she doesn’t really want to and he’s got Ruby’s back to the end.

“‘Hitch has persuaded HQ that it would wise to keep up the survival skills. He seems to think you need all the protection you can get, and though you are no longer a functioning field agent or coding agent, after much consideration, I am persuaded he is right.’” [page 113]

He’s got non-verbal cues that indicate when he’s pissed off - they’re minor but they’re there.

“They talked together got a few minutes, all perfectly fine until Hitch appeared to notice something - perhaps it was to do with Froghorn’s attire, it was hard to say from this distance but Ruby recognised the subtle change in body language and knew that he was not happy, not happy at all.” [page 180]

He’s been seriously injured before in his life, and why was nobody paying attention to these goddamn children, holy hell Spectrum dropped the ball on this one.

“While this drama was unfolding, so another was taking place - the screams of a boy who had apparently fallen into the shallows, but managed somehow to scrabble onto one of the rafts. He had incurred a life-threatening from a fifteen-foot crocodile, but he was lucky - his cries had alerted rescue and he was dragged from the river before he could be taken by the reptile. The boy suffered severe shock and could not be questioned about the incident.” [page 235]

I think that his name suits him well, but jeez, imagine looking at your baby and giving him this name.

“The second, the boy who was almost swallowed by the crocodile, was named as Art Hitchen Zachery.” [page 236]

He is not immune to the upset looks of Sabina Redfort.

“‘I’m afraid I’m expected elsewhere,’ said Hitch, glancing anxiously at his watch. ‘Oh no, really?’ exclaimed ‘Sabina. She looked so forlorn that Hitch found himself saying, ‘You know what, how about I stay for the starter - it really looks too good to miss.’” [page 260]

His birthdate was 1930!

“‘Just how old do you think I am?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Ruby, ‘fifty-five... fifty-seven.’ ‘Kid, I’m forty-two.’ He shook his head. ‘Boy, never ask a kid to guess your age; they’ll always have you pegged at just shy of decrepit.’” [page 290]

I don’t even know what to caption this, except that he’s able to burst into hysterics. Also, he went with other Spectrum agents to Disneyland, which is adorable.

“‘Are you kidding?’ He began to laugh, really laugh. In fact, he laughed so hard that he didn’t look like he was ever going to stop. ‘What?’ she asked, annoyed that she wasn’t in on the joke. ‘That picture was taken at Disneyland,’ he wheezed. ‘He was made of rubber. Kid, you might to get a new pair of spectacles.’” [page 291]

More dad jokes!

“‘I’d love to, kid, but I’ve got places to be.’ As the doors closed shut, he called, ‘See you later alligator!’ ‘Funny,’ muttered Ruby, ‘real funny.’” [page 291]

While the revelation of Bradley being alive is a huge thing, Hitch still has time for sass.

“Ruby: ‘I’ve only seen two picture of Baker and in neither one did he have this whole wild man of the woods deal going on.’ Hitch: ‘You mean the facial hair?’ Baker: ‘It’s just a beard for crying out loud.’ [page 336]

He can play poker!

“By the time Ruby decided to turn in for bed, Sabina, Hitch, Bradley, Brant and Mrs Digby were settled in for a long night of poker.” [page 348]

The title of butler doesn’t sit great with him.

“‘He’s some butler,’ remarked Brant. ‘Honey, Hitch is a house manager,’ corrected Sabina. ‘He doesn’t like to be called butler, he’s very particular about that.’” [page 350]

He’s this close to dying and he’s still throwing out the snappy comebacks, what a guy.

“The Australian: ‘Of course. But try to refrain from doing anything stupid.’ Hitch: ‘What would add up to stupid?’ The Australian: ‘Any sudden movements; that wouldn’t be smart sweetie.’ Hitch: ‘I’ll try keep my nervous twitch under control.’ The Australian: ‘I’m impressed by your common sense.’                                Hitch: ‘I’m impressed by your gun.'” [page 388]

He’s a real personality - the kind you miss badly when he’s not around.

“Thing moved like clockwork in the Redfort home, every household issue was attended to, and though no one was aware of it, their security was monitored and every safety procedure followed. But life seemed dull without Hitch.” [page 429]

He has a permanent scar from the crocodile incident.

“‘Wanna see the bite? It’s ugly, took an awful lot of stitches to put me back together.’” [page 509]

And those are all the facts I’ve found that we didn’t already know/ are relevant about one Art Hitchen Zachary! I omitted the other 700 paragraphs where we get reminded yet again that he’s very handsome, and still he is the most amazing man!

#rr #ruby redfort #art hitchen zachary #hitch #me reading all of this is just *heart eyes* #im loveeee #if ya man isn't like this do you even want a man at all? #anyway #agent blacker #lb #bradley baker #byd spoilers #blink and you die spoilers #blacker #miles froghorn #clancy crew

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 1

Hey all! This is the start of a series featuring some pirate characters I played around with back during Whumptober, but with a lot more personality and a lot more plot. It got a little long so I put a cut, but I hope you guys enjoy it.

Series Masterlist

Content warnings: sword fighting, creepy/intimate whumper, and threats of death.

————————————

A shrill whistle took the crew of The Thief’s Halyard by surprise, everyone on deck pausing their work to stare up at the crow’s nest.

“Ship on the horizon! It may be pursuing us. Be prepared for any further instruction!” the lookout shouted, eliciting a chorus of groans. They were already wilting under the harsh sunlight and scorching heat of summer. Imminent danger would just be the cherry drowning in their melted sundae.

One man in particular, though, smiled through the announcement, seemingly taking delight in the possible threat approaching. He turned to everyone else as they slumped and sulked, puffing out his chest in a dramatic display of confidence. 

“Come on, everyone! No use grumbling and groaning; this is exciting! When’s the last time we even caught wind of other human life?” His bravado was almost painful to hear.

“It’s only been about two weeks, captain.” a younger man noted with clear confusion. He got a few knowing stares from the others around him. That was one way to indicate he was new around there in case anybody missed the memo.

“Exactly! So long!” he insisted, “And calling me Ray is fine, I promise. No need for fancy titles.” Ray clapped him on the back just a little too forcefully, pushing a nervous laugh and nod from him. As the newer crew member walked unsteadily back to his post and Ray climbed to the next level of the deck where he’d been working earlier, the quartermaster came up beside him. 

“Hey,” she laid a hand on his shoulder, speaking softly, “cool it on the positivity campaign, would you? I love the attitude, don’t get me wrong, but nobody���s buying it right now.”

“What else am I supposed to do, Mabel? You know as well as I do it’s not easy to keep spirits up when we’re all on the brink of passing out,” he sighed.

“Tear out the root of the problem then,” Mabel shrugged, crossing her arms. “Maybe rotate people out for breaks? It might make work harder, especially with that ship on our tail, but better to get them out of the sun than do nothing at all.”

“Ah, yeah... that sounds like our best bet, actually,” Ray nodded. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you some days,” he smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair.

“Most likely perish, sir,” Mabel remarked, earning a gentle shove from the captain as he strolled by, reaching back to take her hand and lead her up to the guardrail fencing off this higher portion of the deck. He raised their hands with a grandiose clearing of the throat.

“Alright, change of plans! I want the four of you,” he drew a circle in the air with his hand around a group standing off to the side, “to head into your quarters and get some rest. Everyone else will cover your positions, and every quarter hour we’ll rotate out four others, so on and so forth.”

Sighs of relief followed three of them in the door, but one redhead lingered behind, leaning his full weight against the cabin wall.

“Floyd!” Ray waved, climbing down the ladder to land next to him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thought I’d offer to stay and help if you need anyone. I can go a little longer, and someone else probably needs a break more than I do.” Ray eyed Floyd warily, looking him over for signs of exhaustion. He was a very slight man and it was a wonder he’d lasted even this long in the heat. A sheen of sweat coated his skin, and his light, mossy blue eyes looked a little unfocused, but... Floyd could handle himself. He’d have his turn in the rotation soon enough anyway.

“As long as you wish to, then.” He conceded. Ray observed the workers still at their posts, hollering over to a woman already stumbling over her own feet. “Clara!” Her head snapped up at the voice, sweaty hair plastered to her face. “Head inside and rest; Floyd can take your place for now.”

Relief washed over her and she thanked Ray hastily before making a beeline for the cabins. Floyd crossed the deck, picking up her work with no hesitation. For a while, things were more or less peaceful. Ray was about to signal for the rotation when another whistle and shout rang out from the lookout.

“That ship I saw...” she swallowed, voice fading out for a moment. “If I’m not mistaken, we’re currently being tailed by the Golden Felucca. And they’re gaining on us.”

“Oh...shit,” Ray muttered. That ship and its crew had done nothing but trouble them for nearly a year. Each subsequent encounter only wore Ray down further, and he shivered at the memory of the most recent one just a month earlier.

He stole a glance at Floyd, going strong like that attack had never happened. Like they hadn’t nearly lost him. Ray shuddered. Why him, of all people? The train of thought, though he’d had it so many times before, hurt too much to continue. 

Ray took a few breaths to steady himself, wipe the sweat from his forehead, and pull his dark, curly hair back into a low knot. No use dwelling on it now. Not when everyone needed him. 

Most who heard the announcement was already gearing up for conflict, and a tense feeling gripped the deck. 

“You heard her,” Ray called out, half exasperated, half determined, “Prepare to engage; expect a fight. I’m gonna need three with me on cannons but don’t fire if they're close. We’re gonna need the ones on break to guard.” 

He adjusted the sword belt around his waist and strode to the starboard side of the ship where the Golden Felucca was gaining on them far too quickly. 

As he worked on readying the cannons, those who had been sent down just minutes before trudged up from below deck. Despite the smaller vessel it was named after, the large ship really was a sight to behold. Nervous chattering echoed across the deck, one person even making a remark about the opposing captain, how some called him the Serpent. Mabel overheard and shook her head.

“Oh my Gods, please don’t flatter him,” she said, unable to hold back a derisive snort of laughter. “Percival is just as human as the rest of us. The minute you buy into his fantasy is the minute we lose this battle. Got it?” A shaky nod answered, and the conversation was cut short by their pursuers’ ship pulling up close alongside their own. Their opposing sides were nearly mere meters away from touching. Far too close to even consider using cannons without endangering themselves as well. 

The Golden Felucca floated a little higher on the water, giving the opposing pirates an immediate advantage. They stood with swords drawn, and it would have been a mirror image of The Thief’s Halyard had Percival been anywhere in sight. Of course they’d come to expect cowardice from the other captain after so long, but it was always unsettling to see a crew set loose without the support of their leader at the head. 

For a quiet, peaceful, moment, the two opposing forces locked eyes. 

Then one man leapt across the gap down to The Thief’s Halyard and the others followed all at once, flying into the fray of battle. Ray, Mabel, and a few others who’d given up on readying cannons surged up to meet them, swords clashing and shouts raising. Others fell back near the walls to guard precious resources and money. 

Floyd watched on from the background, holding his own sword in a careful grip. He looked for weaknesses in the enemy, hoping to join in and assist instead of fighting alone, but one opponent broke through the wall of combatants and charged straight for him. On instinct, he fell back on the defensive. 

Aggressive blows fell short as Floyd dodged them, landing in a loose fighting stance. He parried the swings that came next and lunged forward when his opponent relented, attempting to drive him back into the fray. Light footwork kept him balanced as they traded attacks, but the heavy strikes crashing down wore at his defense. 

He tried to keep up the pace as his vision tunneled. A strike nicked his hand, another grazed his arm, and nobody else seemed to take notice of his struggle. Floyd needed to find a window of vulnerability soon and end this.

He stepped back to avoid a slash, almost tripping over himself in an effort to get away when he saw his opportunity. His opponent seemed distracted, eye caught on something behind Floyd, and he took his chance. The redhead surged forward with a shout and thrust out his sword arm.

The blade should’ve hit its mark, buried itself in their side, and sent his weakened foe to their knees. And it would have, had he not stopped inches short, momentum suddenly halted and thrown backward by a strong grip on his wrist. Floyd fell off balance, his instinctive cry crushed to silence when his body slammed full force against a wall, knocking the breath from his chest. His vision swam and his hands pushed weakly against the wood, but a firm pressure on his shoulder and sternum kept him pinned. Heaving breaths couldn’t quite fill his lungs. Belatedly, over the ringing in his ears, he realized someone was speaking to him.

“...breathe, dear. Come on... yes, that’s it. Now look at me. I said look at me…” 

There was a man in front of him. There was a man with an eerily familiar voice and a sword pressed dangerously close to his heart that took the breath from him all over again. The tanned hand holding his shoulder released and lifted his chin in a gentle grip. A reminder as Floyd finally registered the command. His eyes raised slowly to meet the man’s and he was pinned to the spot. 

Amber eyes burned even in the shadows, a stunning, terrifying, captivating window into the depths of Hell. A few loose strands of dark, sandy hair framed them.

Percival, his mind supplied through shock and fear. Of course. He’d seen the man at a distance before, heard his voice through the haze of a dream. In some way, meeting him was familiar. 

The sword splitting skin on his chest snapped him back to reality.

“Please,” Floyd begged breathlessly in a voice so quiet he almost couldn’t hear himself, “p-please I, I can't, I'm not, I’m not ready to, to-”

“Oh, nobody ever is, are they?” The blade’s pressure let up, traced his shirt over to his right shoulder. His heart hammered as he looked helplessly back into Percival’s eyes. “Come on, don’t waste your words. If you think you can change my mind, then do so, and quickly.” 

There wasn’t enough time to think before the molten lava behind his pupils hardened and a line of pain lanced down Floyd’s arm. He couldn’t speak past the airy keen rushing out of his chest, but the blade tainted with his blood moved back over and somehow he forced the sound to stop, his lungs to breathe, and his lips to speak. 

“I’m- please, Percival-” Floyd choked out the name, his voice cracking miserably with repressed tears, cheeks burning with humiliation. He hated the words itching to spill, but he had nothing else to offer. “I’ll do anything, I promise. I can- I can be u-useful, whatever you need I can- I’ll- just please don’t kill me!”

The horrible heat of shame flashed through him and nearly sent him to his knees, but it made Percival pause. He looked Floyd up and down, inclining his head in what may have been a confidential nod. 

Had he done it? Had he appeased Percival? 

The air stilled around the two, and the battle still raging faded away into white noise. 

He didn’t even see the fist fly through the air before it crashed into his jaw, knocking him to the ground as his vision faded to black. The other man may have said something, then, but he could only hear the ringing in his ears before that left him, too.

————————————

Next

#whump #pirate whump #Benedict Floyd #Raymond Bates #Percival #battle #sword fight #pinned to a wall #grabbed by the chin #cuts #knocked out #fear #intimidation #Mabel Forbes #Persistence

[angelaiswriting]

Lust | Ada Shelby x reader

[original picture: pexels]

✏️ Pairing: Ada Shelby x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Ada is overcome by lust for Y/N. (Requested by Anonymous)

✏️ A/N: honestly? Good luck, let me know if this story made you sweat like it did to me and Paulina HAHA Also! Please please please: this is my first girl x girl story so I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how I did pronoun-wise: are the pronouns too redundant? Did I repeat the names too many times? I’d like to get better at this, so if you could kindly help me with feedback, I’d truly appreciate it! 💛

✏️ Beta-read by @sweetvengeancee 

✏️ Warnings: smut, so 18+ O N L Y !!! (oral f/r obviously, fingering, masturbation)

✏️ Word-count: 2,649

It’s the dead of night, but Ada is starved – and for much more than what a slice of the apple pie Polly brought her can satiate. She feels it in her bones, in the tingling under her skin, and all she can think about as she stares into the darkness of the room is, God, I want her fucking lips on me again.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realises she has never craved anybody the way she constantly – and almost painfully – longs for Y/N. Sweet, gentle Y/N that knows how to change face in the bedroom; she undergoes a caterpillar’s metamorphosis: she leaves the mask she wears during the day and becomes something else, something that drives Ada fucking Thorne (for she’s stubborn and she is no Shelby anymore) fucking wild.

Eyes, lips, fingers, tongue – she has yet to find out which, exactly, is her lover’s best weapon. The way she looks at her makes her blush. The way her lips kiss her skin stokes the fire in the pit of her stomach. And by God, by God, does her girl know how to use fingers and tongue to her advantage!

Even the mere thought makes her squirm under silky bed sheets that she still thinks do not belong in her bedroom. She squirms and her thighs press together of their own accord because fuck, she swears she can still feel Y/N’s wicked tongue lapping up her juices. Hot and bold, that wet muscle is still fresh in her memory as she relives the way she used it to eat her out like no one ever had.

She’s wet – and the more friction her thighs make against each other, the more insistent that sensation of wetness becomes. It trickles down her slit – slow and as thick as honey – or at least this is how Y/N always describes it as she lies between her legs.

Ada’s heart picks up its rhythm and in a matter of minutes, it’s loud in the quietness of the room. It’s loud and deaf at the same time and all it does is deafen her as it hammers against her ribcage as her breathing shortens, tries to rival her heartbeat in speed and stubbornness.

But she doesn’t want to turn her head to the side, doesn’t want to see her, see…

She gulps, squeezes her eyes shut because tomorrow she has to meet up with Tommy and she really – really – needs some sleep. Some rest. And Y/N needs it just as much, for she, too, has a long day ahead. Or, at least, these are the excuses Ada comes up with to busy her mind as her right hand pushes down the blanket to waist level.

It feels… forbidden, somehow – the idea of pleasuring herself as her lover sleeps soundly beside her, doing her best not to wake her up as the fire of the love they share consumes her from the inside – sets her organs and her skin and even her fucking hair on fire.

The only sound in the room is the faint gasp that leaves her lips when her middle finger swipes between her folds just to find herself soaked. She doesn’t know what it is about Y/N that drives her this wild, that ties her on her seat in the rollercoaster her pleasure is just to leave her there as she goes a billion miles a minute.

Her teeth sink down into the flesh of her lower lip and she does her best not to bite her tongue in the process, too. And her breathing is all a jump after the other as she tilts her head back when the pressure of her finger moves over her clit. Her toes curl, her chest constricts, and all she can think about is Y/N’s fingers inside her. And even more than that, she thinks about the sight of her lover’s red-painted nails glimmering in the light of the room, covered in her slick. But the vision lasts for a second because a heartbeat later, in Ada’s mind, Y/N is sucking those same fingers clean and she’s never – fuck, she’s never – breaking eye contact. She stares at Ada with that mischievous twinkle in her eyes, with that shit-eating grin stretching her lips and that’s the best fucking vision she’s ever had.

She thinks about it – oh God, Ada Shelby thinks about it and she swears she feels herself a step closer to Hell – but boy, is she ready for its flames to consume her!

Y/N is the Devil. It must be it – it must be it, she thinks as she sinks her middle finger into the heat of her vagina. Y/N is the devil in disguise and Ada is ready – oh, so ready – to be judged and proclaimed guilty of too much lust when it comes to her. When it comes to the lovebites she finds on her pale body the morning after. When it comes to wet bed sheets and pillowcases stained by smudged lipstick. When it-

“Oh!” It’s faint and airy, a gasped- and choked-out moan that follows that ring finger joining the middle finger inside her.

Ada’s head turns abruptly to her left and her eyes squint in the almost absolute darkness of the room to make out Y/N’s silhouette. She doesn’t want to be found like this, with two fingers lazily thrusting inside her own dripping heat and her other hand groping her breast as goosebumps wash over her. Y/N’s reaction would be just one the second after switching on the lights: she’d crawl over her, kiss both future and past away with those sinful lips of hers just to then lick down her body until she’d settle between her legs and make her come too many times for her to keep the count.

She almost wants to turn on the light in the corridor just to look at Y/N as she gets herself off – look at her peaceful expression as she sleeps, look at her heaving chest, at the faint marks she’s left on her skin just that evening, when they went to bed earlier than usual. She wants to take the covers off her body and just drink her in as she lies there, all sweet and innocent in sleep’s embrace.

Instead, she doesn’t move – doesn’t withdraw her hand from between her legs. She just adjusts her fingers better, gets them at the right angle to brush over that sweet, sweet spot that turns her knees and ankles to jelly and it’s then that she moans. The sound is long and low, drawled out in the tranquillity of the room.

She doesn’t care if her lover wakes up, finds her like that, on the brink of an orgasm as she races and races to get to the finish line.

The air is scorching in her lungs, in her oesophagus, and on every exhale, she feels a bead of sweat tremble in the dip of her Cupid’s bow. Her tongue slips out from between kiss-chapped lips to lick it away. Blood is boiling under her skin as her heart works like that of a racehorse – it hammers and thunders in her chest and in her head, even between her legs, and she fears she’ll just wake her up.

The thought crosses her mind like lightning and her fingers’ movements come to a halt inside her, with the walls of her pussy still fluttering around them and squeezing them and just begging her for this fucking orgasm she’s been on the brink of. The thought comes and she welcomes it and without thinking twice, she withdraws her fingers – slowly and heavily, dragging against all those sweet and slick-covered spots that just make her see stars.

She doesn’t immediately act, though. She lies there for a few, excruciating moments, trying to regain control over her breathing and her thundering heart, one hand still tugging on her left nipple and the other resting against her vulva. Then, slowly, her right hand moves up her body and her slick-covered fingers trace wobbly lines on her skin the higher her hand goes – her mons pubis, her abdomen, her breasts…

Her juices feel chilly against her heated lips and she traces them and she smiles wickedly before her tongue comes out again to lick her fingers clean.

She’s on her stomach then, lips just a breath away from Y/N’s shoulder and she debates whether kissing it or not. Ada opts for not. But just for a moment, because she can’t resist the impulse of lightly pressing a kiss to her skin – pressure so light it’s barely there, so light Y/N doesn’t even stir in her slip.

Then, she’s out of the bed, walks to the window to open the curtains. The moon is full and bright, and in the darkness of the night, it feels just as bright as the sun. She stands there for a minute, in front of the huge French-window that gives on nothing else but London. She stands there, tall and proud in her nudity, nipples beaded and inner thighs covered in slick from her previous activities – and covered in dried slick from activities even prior.

The thought that someone could see her, while it crosses her mind, doesn’t bother her. She’s never felt this at peace, even if her heart rages in her chest and her mind runs even faster.

When she turns around, white light washes every surface in the room and Y/N’s sleeping body looks even more ethereal than in sunlight. Ada smiles at the sight and when she crosses the room again, her feet are light against the marble tiles of the floor even when their cold makes goosebumps pull at the skin of her shins.

The silk sheet is quick to be pulled to the floor, and the material slides like a caress along Y/N’s skin. It’s surely not an innocent sight, but it’s not a sensual either, and yet, it makes Ada’s pussy pulse and her clit throb – she can’t wait to have her fingers on her again.

She crawls over her body, presses a gentle kiss to each and every vertebra of Y/N’s spine as she makes her way down, down, down. Her ass is plump, the skin as soft as that of a baby as Ada’s hands glide over the fleshy buttcheeks.

But she can’t wait, she just can’t stop feeling – feeling what she felt just a few hours ago, feeling what she felt just minutes ago when her own hand had been working on her, and she can’t stop feeling what she’ll feel in a while, when Y/N wakes up and spices up the night like only she can.

She sinks between her legs, partially thankful for the fact that Y/N’s sleeping on her front so that she won’t be too distracted by the sight of her breasts, and she licks a stripe between her folds. She’s lightly wet and the taste of her is musky and, God, it’s heady. It forces Ada to close her eyes as she inhales sharply as it goes straight to the centre of her brain and sets it on fire.

Y/N doesn’t move, doesn’t even make a sound and the stubborn silence makes Ada smile as she settles better between her lover’s spread legs.

Another lick, another minute spent in silence, ears strained to pick up any slight change in the quietness of the room.

It goes on like this – it’s slow and lazy, almost as though it should go on forever. But Ada can’t wait, and Y/N is slowly emerging from her sleep, swimming closer and closer to the light of the moon as pleasure stirs like a lazy and still-sleepy cat in the pit of her stomach.

Ada knows when she’s awake – there’s a slightly harsher intake of air on her girl’s part and a mumbled sound meets the pillow, and it’s something she can’t quite understand. It makes her smile and delve her tongue into Y/N’s heat as one of her hand moves to tease her clit – the other is between her own legs, absentmindedly stroking between her folds as she pulses and leaks and pants.

“Fuck.” It’s still mumbled, but this time she understands Y/N’s groan.

Ada chuckles, slowly penetrates her with two fingers as her tongue licks upward until she’s teasing the taut ring of muscles her asshole is. “Stay still,” she hums when the other bucks her hips against her face. 

“Are you touching yourself?” Sleep still laces Y/N’s voice when she sighs the question and there’s a whimper when Ada presses the pads of her fingertips against that sweet spot she knows makes her beg for more.

Ada doesn’t answer, doesn’t tell her that she is, indeed, slowly fingering herself as best as she can given both the position and what she’s already busy doing.

“Let me turn around,” the other pleads, pushing herself up on her elbows and looking behind her shoulder. “Let me see.”

It’s… hot, Ada doesn’t know how else to describe it. She lets Y/N turn on her back, spread her legs wider apart for her, and all she can think of is that this is the hottest thing she’s ever done. It’s hot, even the air is, when Y/N looks down at her, nestled between her legs, worshipping her like the goddess she is. And it’s even hotter when Y/N asks her to stop with her ministrations and finger-fuck her with those very fingers Ada has deep inside her own pussy.

Ada gasps, taken aback for a moment as her brain processes what she’s been ordered. But then, without thinking, she does just that: lips wrapped around Y/N’s clit, she stares as her slick-covered fingers slowly sink into her.

The room is as hot as hell as the heel of her hand presses against her lover’s skin, and the air seems to boil and the temperature to rise the more those fingers work their wonders in the tight embrace of her vagina.

It’s a crescendo of sounds – Y/N’s moans that go from airy to deep and loud, Ada’s own deep breathing against the other’s skin as she sucks on her clit, and then, much sweeter than the rest, the slick sound of her fingers slipping in and out of Y/N’s vagina.

“Fuck, Ada.”

She’s close and Ada knows it, she feels it in the almost wild fluttering of her walls around her fingers, hears it in the tone of her whimpers.

And it doesn’t take her long to lead Y/N to her orgasm – she’s been taught well. It’s almost like thunder tears through her: her back arches, her toes curl, her walls wrap around Ada’s finger like in a vice grip and when she’s pushed over the edge, all she can muster is a silent moan of pleasure as she comes on Ada’s face.

“The night is still young.” Ada’s lips glide over Y/N’s skin as she speaks, as she kisses her sweat away – from her hips, from her belly, her breasts, her neck. “And I really need an excuse not to meet my brother tomorrow.”

They both chuckle at that but Y/N’s fingers still trail up Ada’s sides, making her shiver as goosebumps reappear. They tickle her as she pulls up to capture Ada’s left nipple in her mouth to suckle on it.

“Let’s not stop now, then,” she mutters as her tongue swipes along the underside of her breast. “I want to know what my juices feel like inside you, too.”

:) I have to admit Ada isn’t my favorite character but boy, am I hot for her now! :)

Feedback and PB requests are welcome! ❤️

TAGS (to be added to or to be removed from any list, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892  @mblaqgi​

Peaky Blinders: @whimsylavender​ @thethyri​ @friendleyneighbourhoodvillain  @flowers-in-your-hayr @oddsnendsfanfics @medievalfangirl @inforapound

People that might be interested: @sweetvengeancee @kellydixon01 @kind-wolf

#ada shelby #ada shelby imagine #ada shelby x reader #ada shelby smut #ada thorne #ada thorne imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders x reade #ada shelby fanfic #angelaiswriting #peaky blinders smut

[hookahazz]

Hi hi So today I slipped on the floor and broke my ankle bc I'm a clumsy hoe. Can I get a blurb( or whatever you feel like) of Harry taking care of the reader when that happens? I think he'd be the biggest dork and just so soft and I need that right about now. Love you and your writing bb

thank you I love u too babyyy im sorry I really hope you feel better! 

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: cursing

A/N: I rlly like writing blurbs. Send me more concepts :) this one made me SOFTTTTTT

ASK BOX

Y/N’s not athletic.

Like at all.

Sports just aren’t her thing. In high school, while everyone was at practice she stayed after either studying or helping out one of many clubs she was involved in. She doesn’t like sweating or running, it’s quite disgusting and Niall knows that which is why when she goes and watches him play with her best mates Niall along with Louis will pull her into a bone-crushing hug, smothering her with their sweat. It’s repulsive to her but Niall and Lou are like her brothers so it’s hard to stay mad at them. Louis doesn’t usually encourage her to play or run anywhere because she’s very clumsy and often trips on air and he’s worried she might break a bone one of these days so he’s always there, watching out and protecting her (a brotherly thing to do). Niall on the other hand continuously encouraged his baby sister to play but she usually just rolls her pretty brown eyes and declines politely.

But today was different.

Somehow, someway Niall managed to talk her into her first and last game of soccer. The lot of them aren’t really sure why she even said yes. While Niall was ecstatic, Louis felt as though he was going to shit bricks, positive that this would be the game that ended it all. He tried so hard to get her to sit back down and continue reading her one of her romance novels she’s usually got her head dipped into but there was no changing her mind. She was nervous but excited to actually play with everyone and determined to win; albeit she understands she doesn’t know the first thing about playing soccer or any sport for that matter, she still wanted to try her best!

The game started off smoothly, the lot of them playing a smoother game with her than usual, being very cautious and aware that she may trip at any moment in time. All was well, she made her first goal within the first couple of minutes but that’s just because of Louis and Niall. Boy, she was so happy when it went in: she felt unstoppable. She continued to run circles around the boys and score points which made all members on both sides smile (she’s just the cutest little thing) but then it all went to shit: horrible, awful, dreadful fucking shit. No other shit was shitter than this shit. It’s the second half of the game and while she’s exhausted and nearly ready to faint, she was determined to win. And it’s that same determination that currently has here screaming in the back of an ambulance because she’s broken her ankle so horribly that the bone’s sticking out! It’s a horrible sight and if it were anyone else Niall would’ve thrown up at the sight but he was too focused on (Y/N), trying his best to calm her down to even focus on himself.  Like sports, (Y/N) doesn’t do pain.

↮

“Oh, look, my bone’s poking out,“ she giggles after a questionable amount of drugs and numbing medication been pumped into her body. Louis and Niall exchange looks, knowing they’ll have to call Harry soon. If there’s anybody more protective over her it’s Harry. Harry absolutely adores (Y/N), thinks she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread and bottled water and iPhones. He’s made it clear on several occasions that he’d move heaven and hell just to see her smile. He loves her dearly, so much that it’s repulsive to watch them interact. He’s always got his arms around her waist or his chin on her shoulder, always touching her.  He’s currently at his own flat waiting for the lot of them to get back from their routine soccer games. Of course, the one he didn’t attend would be the one in which (Y/N) breaks her fucking ankle.

She’s in the doctor’s hands now so Louis and Niall have a seat in the waiting room, collecting their nerves before ringing Harry.

” ‘Lo? Thought you lot be back by now, where are you? (Y/N)’s not answerin’ her phone.“

Without any hesitation or preparation, Niall just spits it out all in one breath without even thinking, ”(Y/N)’s in the hospital because I convinced her to play a game with us and she ended up tripping breaking her ankle and the bone was stickin’ out please don’t kill me, H!“ The line ends, with no warning just the stupid beep noise one gets after someones hung up and Niall is scared shitless.

↮

"Harry, you’ve got to calm down mate. S'not Niall fault, though it is for his safety I’ll pretend it isn’t,” Louis grinned, patting Harry’s shoulder in hopes the ease his nerves.

He arrived at the hospital not too long after their very brief phone call which led to Harry driving down the road at nearly eighty miles! He was on the brink of tears,  nearly collapsed into their arms completely disregarding the plan he concocted in the car to strangle and kill Niall. “She’ll be okay?” Harry gasped, sinking into his chair and sighing dramatically. “Just a broken– Well a very broken ankle but m'sure she’ll be alright. Last we saw her she was gettin’ pumped with drugs, giggling at the stupidest things.”

After what seemed like hours (literally only thirty minutes), they were finally allowed to go back and see her.

“Petal!” he rushes into the room, finally feeling able to breathe when he sees her beautiful smile. “Harry!” she calls back, reaching for him. He strides over to her engulfing her into a hug, nuzzling his head in her neck. “S'worried about you. What happened, baby?”

“I dunno H! I thought I was doing soooo well but obviously, I’m shit at soccer," she giggles. Harry smiles, holding her hand in his kissing over her knuckles gently. "Does anything hurt, you need anything? Hungry or summat?” he questions, wanting to give her the world right now. He glares over at Niall and Louis signaling for them to get her something to eat. “M'fine really, babeeee. Missed you loads!” she leans over peppering his face with kisses. “I don’t want to play soccer again,” he snickers. They stay like that, Harry kissing over her hand and cracking jokes, doing everything in his power to keep her mind off of her very broken ankle. “You’ll be okay poppet,” he smiles and she nods.

No more sports for (Y/N).  

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles preference #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #het writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #one direction

[whispedcream]

i wrote my first fanfic for the first time in like three years

i was just thinking about wht wouldve happened if i drove my car into the world of askr and accidentally hit a man u know

posted it under keep reading and ao3

I’m driving, that’s it. Going about 60 mph on a 55 mph maximum highway, just trying to get to school. Minding my own business, working for my degree, listening to Vocaloid covers. The gay Vocaloid covers only; this is a gay rights car.

With the sun attempting to blind me, I readjusted my red Aliexpress heart shaped sunglasses to fight off the glare. Only about sixteen more minutes until I reach campus and start my day with my eight in the godawful morning class. Sociology is a really fun topic so there is at least motivation in waking up at six. Maybe the professor will bring his dog again.

There’s this giant wall of light that suddenly bursts into existence. I switch lanes to hopefully avoid it. The light only follows me in retaliation. It’s hard to tell if I’m driving towards the light or if the light is coming at me. My heart stops nothingless as panic seeps into my gut.

Was I expecting to drive into a void of bright light? No. Am I prepared for what awaits me on the other side? Also no, but I’m already pumping the breaks despite the fruitlessness of the situation.

Everything is happening way too fast for my liking, the transition is a blur. My car now slides through the giant wall of light and I lose sight of the highway. No potholes, no more trees, everything is tinged red because my sunglasses are red. I keep my grip on the steering wheel for the feeling of safety. Wherever I’m dropped off I would at least like to not spin out of control. Am I going to be dumped off somewhere? Where am I going? I press on the gas pedal but nothing seems to change with how fast the light is moving around me. The speedometer tells me I’m now going about 70 mph. Everything is bright and glaring and now I feel nausea.

The weight of the situation starts to get to me. All I can do is sit here in my car and hope for the best. Everything is quiet except for the sound of the only good english cover of Magnet by Lollia and Lizz Robert. With the world deciding to test my luck this quickly changes as my car also becomes a light show. I am trying my best to not freak out right now as my poor car does that already for me. Lights are flickering on and off, the engine is making weird noises that I do not appreciate, and my phone is making noises similar to a garbage disposal. The steering wheel becomes my lifeline.

There’s now a different color coming at me in this bright scary void of light. Wishful thinking or not maybe I will end up back on the highway. With nothing else to do I simply drive on and pass through this supposed exit. As of now the speedometer is telling me I’m going around 75 mph.

——

Trees grace my vision once more, but there is still no highway. There are however people on this not-highway. If I could throw up my heart at this point I absolutely would without hesitation. My hands are cramping with how hard I’m gripping the steering wheel. It’s incredibly painful and I will be feeling this tomorrow for sure. A red lady in white dives out of the path of destruction my car is soon to create. Everything is happening too fast, but all I care about is not swerving and flipping the car over a rock. My car flashes and beeps as it tries to warn me about pressing on the breaks too harshly on this rough terrain. There’s another group of people in front of me so I honk at them. They seemingly yell at me in response to my warning, I think. My music is back on and blaring so it is really hard to tell while I’m trying to focus on five different problems at once. I am trying really hard to not hit anybody and there’s only like four people around me. Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be difficult. I am at the point of the five stages of grief, acceptance, in that this is not normal circumstances. These men in strange uniforms are running at me with weapons? Swords, axes, and spears oh jeez.

On the verge of tears I honk the horn again while trying to drive my car away from the civilians, but they’re relentless in their pursuit. I never would have dreamed that I would hit someone full force with my car while listening to Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani. First time for everything I suppose. The man I just made contact with was, for a quick second, close enough to my face disregarding the windshield. His scream of agony was muffled by the glass and blaring music, but it was still loud enough that I can’t really choose to ignore it. The force of the impact sends him tumbling and flying over my car. I jolt as I hear the ‘shnk’ of this man’s axe hitting the roof above me. The mirrors show me his colleagues running for him, as this probably dead man lies on the floor motionless in a crumpled heap.

“Oh my god,” is all I can say as I finally bring my car to a stop about twenty yards away from the accident. At first I considered driving off to avoid any lawsuit. Pausing to look at the attire of the men who tried to attack my car with swords; I now have my doubts that lawsuits exist wherever this place is. It’s definitely not New York, or Kansas. I don’t know what Kansas looks like. It probably isn’t whatever this is.

I am a stupid person at times due to how much I care about stupid things. I shift the gear into park, but leave the engine on for safety. My hands are still shaking as I press the unlock button on the door to allow me to exit the car. I want to know if this man I hit going above the New York state speed limit was still alive.

Now that I’m at a normal speed for humans I can finally get a good look at my surroundings. It’s all very green, with a lot of trees, dirt, and hills. Everything I hate with a passion as a self proclaimed city kid. “Where the fuck am I?” I ask to no one as I run my hands through my hair in an anxiety filled tick. I squint at the group of men huddled around their probably dead friend. I can’t see shit but I don’t plan on making any effort on getting closer.

Upon seeing me get out of my car, the friends of the probably dead man start to yell obscene things in my direction. My eyes still sting from the tears I’m trying to suppress. With a nod of my head I purse my lips as I reenter my car and lock the doors with the push of the same button. The axe is still embedded in the roof and I can now clearly see the slightest hint of the blade. I continue to nod my head as I see the men run towards me. I shift the gear into drive and do a u-turn, I think. There isn’t exactly a road or anything to make a u-turn on. It is easy enough to drive past the men at a reasonable distance. They all stumble as they change direction to run at me again from behind this time.

The plan was to keep on driving, but now I find myself in the same position of slamming the breaks again as the first person I saw through the portal runs at my car. I was this close in deciding to hit her as well like I did the last guy. This time on purpose. What stops me from doing so is that her weapon is sheathed and her arms are in the air waving frantically. I hear her screaming at the top of her lungs for me to stop and wait. Against my better judgement I stop the car in front of her. She’s heaving for air as she rests her hands on the hood of the car, looking at me with bright red eyes. Her outfit looks disheveled from the fall she took trying to avoid getting hit by a MINI Cooper. The stranger’s white and gold uniform was now covered in grass and dirt stains. I am actively choosing to ignore the red stains since I don’t see any visible cuts on her skin.

“Please,” her voice is still out of breath, “Oh Great Hero from another world! Please do not run away from me, for I am your ally!” Her words come out in a rush of air as she tries to focus her gaze on me and the group of men steadily making way towards us. I can see her hands flex as she tries to grip the hood of the car, as if she could keep me from moving by holding on tight enough. I must look as confused as I feel because I can slowly see the panic seep into her face. She stumbles for a little bit with her words as if she forgot the speech she had just made up on the spot. “Great Hero would you grace me with your kindness to allow me to explain the situation at hand? I have been waiting for thou to arrive to fulfill the role in our country’s legends! Our country is at the brink of ruin, and thou. . . And thou. . .” Her focus is now strictly on the men coming towards us as if trying to calculate how much time she had left before their onslaught. She slams her gloved hands on the roof of my car, which is rather rude. Her eyes scream with desperation and I am just made more uncomfortable. “If thou can do me the great favor of letting me into your ugh. . . Transportation device. . . I can defend you from the ruffians coming to slaughter us both!”

There is no point in pretending to consider my options since I have none, so I unlock the door. The strange red haired lady continues to stand there dumbfounded, probably waiting for a response she could understand. I make an effort to quickly open the passenger seat’s door for her to get the point across that I was letting her in. She lets out a breath of relief before quickly hopping into my car and slamming the door shut, which is once again rude. I push the lock button on the car as I stare at her once again. Her eyes really are red and are not brown like mine. I thought it was a trick of the lights of the bright sun outside. Normally I would ask if she was wearing contacts, but I don’t think she would know what that word meant.

She looks at me with the same level of confusion I am feeling in my soul. I do dress rather flamboyantly for a ‘Great Hero’. Today is one of my more casual days as well. I’m only wearing a button up print shirt with a pattern of flamingos on skateboards wearing snapbacks, with polka dot shorts, and black hightop Vans. Along with my totally cool sunglasses. The culture clash is uncanny and kind of funny.

I can see her starting to panic again as we sat there in silence for a couple of seconds. She breaks first, “Why are we not moving! Does your companion not like me?” fidgeting in her seat she begins to look around the interior of my car.

“You mean my car?” Now I’m just messing with her to calm myself down. “You didn’t put your seatbelt on, I’m not moving until you do.” Now I’m not joking, road safety is important. I look behind us to see the men getting even closer. They sure were taking their time, but maybe I drove a lot farther than I thought.

She points at my own seatbelt for clarification, so I nod in response. My phone’s speakers start to blare out Oh No! by Marina as the strange lady begins to struggle with her seatbelt. The seatbelt is doing that annoying thing where it gets stuck when you tug too hard. It was on the second harsh tug I decided to lean over and buckle the lady in myself. Now I can drive with less worry. If I’m being honest to myself it doesn’t decrease my worry all that much, just by a smidge.

The enemy is finally upon us when I finally decide it’s time to move, soon enough they become ants again. My newfound companion only stares at me in silence. She is probably trying to figure out what to say and I don’t know if my silence is helping or worrying her further. Five minutes pass before she finally speaks up again, “Thank you Great Hero and Car for helping me escape those ruffians! I owe the both of you my eternal gratitude.”

Her words are stiff and formal as if she’s testing out the water for bloodthirsty sharks. I can only nod before laughing in a lame attempt to brighten up the mood, “My car is not sentient, but it was no problem. I’m just glad to as far away from that. . . predicament as possible.” I start to slow the car down to around 20 mph upon deciding that we were far enough from our shared enemy. Mostly to avoid roughing up the tires on the terrain considering that there is no highway or road to drive on. This also allows me to be able to look at the stranger in my passenger seat with more proper attention.

She waves her hand vaguely at my iPhone 8, “Isn’t this. . . Is this not Car’s voice?” referring to the music. I’m glad that Cupcakke isn’t playing right now, since I have Spotify on shuffle. “Also, no offence, but you don’t really look like a thee-and-thou type. Nor do you talk like one.”

I laugh again which causes the stranger to visibly relax her shoulders a bit. “No this is not the car’s voice. Consider it to be like a recording of a famous singer that I’m able to replay whenever I want. Both my phone and car are machines with no souls or minds.”

The stranger nods along to my words as if she understands what I’m saying before continuing, “Excuse my rudeness for not asking sooner, but what is your name Great Hero?”

I wave off her apology since it isn’t really a big deal. We were both just in a near death experience after all. I turn my head slightly towards her, while keeping my eyes on the road, to show her that she has my attention. “My name is Castus, and you are?”

“My name is Anna and I am the leading commander of the Order of Heroes! Please allow me to start from the beginning as to why we’re both in this ‘car’ right now!”

I nod in response to be kind. In reality I’m thinking about kissing my future psychology degree goodbye. All this talk about Great Heroes, who the fuck knows how long I’ll be here. Or if I’m going home ever. Anna begins her tangent on the lore of Askr and I glance down at the clock on the dashboard. It’s only seven forty-five; god what a world.

#feh #fanfic #my writing #fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #summoner #fe anna #just some good ol fun u know

[monigheandonn1743]

Ceart-leth

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NSFW 😘😘

Chapter 27

The drapes fluttered in the gentle evening breeze, allowing the cool air to bush faintly across her heated skin, and bathed the powerful form of her lover in soft, silvery moonlight. His dark eyes locked on hers, unguarded and swirling with his unbridled emotions. He held nothing back, she could see it all. His love, his need, his passion, his fears, they were all there, laid bare and choking her with her own overwhelming emotions.

She tightened her hold on his arm, feeling the ripple of his straining muscles beneath her fingers tips, as he rolled their hips together, guiding her gently, as he moved deep within the embrace of her body.

“Aah.”

Her cry was breathy and almost silent, but it was met with a low, erotic groan from Jamie, that coiled her inner muscles, and had lightening striking deep within her core. She was on fire, the flames burning low but bright, licked at her skin at every point of contact with his.

She felt his arm relax as he withdrew, sliding almost all the way out of her, brushing the tip of his cock against her g-spot, and making her convulse against him. He grunted quietly, and tightening his hold on her arse, he thrust slowly back in to the hilt, and circled his hips.

“Jamie, please.” She begged, as she closed her eyes and arched her body against his. He was keeping her teetering on the edge, teasing her with the slow, euphoric assent towards climax, but not giving her enough to send her flying off into oblivion. He was driving her to the brink of madness, and she never wanted the feeling to end, but she needed to come.

Desperately.

“Ssh. Open ye eyes.” He ordered quietly, as he eased himself out, and thrust back in. He circled his hips around and around and around, grinding against her clitoris, fanning the flames.

“I can’t…”

“Ye can. Look at me, mo gràdhag.”

A slave to his desires, she peeled her heavy eyes open and lost herself once again in the maelstrom of emotion that raged within him. They were a reflection of her own, and unable to contain them, she threaded her fingers through his hair and drew his lips to hers. They were warm and soft and she whimpered against them as he pulled back and thrust in deeper, hitting her cervix.

She tightened her leg around his waist, and rocked against him, needy and impatient. But he clamped his hand down, stilling her as he pulled out slowly, then slid back in, inch by glorious inch.

He was trying to kill her.

They’d spent the whole day taking, teasing and making love. There wasn’t a millimeter of her body that he hadn’t explored with his fingers, lips and tongue. He’d found every one of her erogenous zones, just as surely as she’d found his, and he’d studied them carefully. He knew exactly the effect each one had on her, and he was using it to his advantage.

Each of their explorations had started out light and teasing, and had ended in their frantic joining when it became too much, and they raced towards climax.

But not this time.

It was with soft kisses, and gentle touches that he’d woken her in the dead of the night. Nestled behind her, he’d let his hands and lips roam along the length of her body, as she’d writhed sleepily against him, and stroked her hand languidly along the length of his ridged cock. He’d brought her to the peak of orgasm over and over, never once letting her fall, before he’d turned her in his arms, hitched her leg, and slipped inside her.

His urgency from the afternoon had gone, this wasn’t a race, it was a slow, agonizing build up to a release so powerful that it was sure to consume them both.

Their kiss was as slow and deep as their love making, and they clung to each other, moaning softly, as their tongues mirrored the passionate movements of their hips. Not once breaking the kiss, she rolled their bodies, easing him back onto the bed until she was lying astride him, resting on her knees.

Finally in control, she lifted herself and slammed down against him. He grunted, and grasped her hips in his iron hands, holding her down, as he thrust up and up and up, forcing himself so deep that she was engulfed in painful pleasure.

“Jamie.”

“Ssh.” He breathed as he moved her body above him, flexing and rolling her in time with his gentle thrusts. “Ye no in control, lass.”

“Please…I need to come.” She begged trying to pick up the pace, and almost crying in frustration when he dug his fingers into her hips and steadied her movements.

“I ken, I can feel it.” He groaned, as he rolled them across the bed, and nestled himself firmly between her thighs. His arms threaded themselves under hers, and he gripped onto her shoulders, holding her tight as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm.

In and out, around and around, over and over, grinding against her as she wrapped her legs around him and met him thrust for thrust.

“I can fee ye quivering around me.” He murmured as he dragged his lips from her ear to the hollow of her throat, and back up again. Her head fell to the side, giving him room as his sucked and nibbled at her oversensitive skin. “Ye so wet, so hot, and swollen and tight.”

“God…please.”

“No yet.” He whispered almost silently against her ear. “I’m no done with ye yet.”

“Jamie I can’t…please.” She begged arching up against him as her toes curled and the world around her began to fade into nothingness. It was there, it was right there, white hot and burning her from the inside out. She couldn’t contain it, she didn’t want to contain it, and as his mouth moved lower, and his warm wet tongue swiped across her nipple, she imploded.

Her whole body convulsed under his, locking down and clamping tightly around his cock, as she pulsed and quivered and cried out incoherently. Wave after wave of euphoric pleasure rushed through her, and she was lost to everything except him, as he thrust against her harder, losing himself in her pleasure.

“Shit.” He grunted, as he dropped a hand to her arse and lifted her up against him. His head was buried in her shoulder and she could feel his restraint as he attempted to control his urge to take her roughly.

“Take me, Jamie.” She begged, as she trembled with the after shocks of her release. She needed it, she could still feel the burning, and each time he hit her cervix she was almost pulled back under. “Please, please, Jamie please.”

“Christ, Claire.” He cried, as he gripped her harder and slammed into her. His gentle rolling thrusts, turned short, sharp and deep, as he pushed into her over and over, until with one final, painful thrust, he stilled and came with a deep carnal groan. He shook in her arms as he rode out his pleasure, and she could feel his cock pulsing and twitching inside her. Her body responded, tightening and releasing around him, as he searched out her lips and pulled her into a deep, soul searing kiss.

“Mo ceart-leth.” He whispered as he rolled to his side, pulling her with him. “Mo gràdhag, mo ciad-bhean. Tha mo ghion ort.”

“You know, I have no idea what you just said.” She whispered as she brought a shaking hand up to his face, and brushed her thumb softly over his cheek.

“My soulmate.” He breathed, as he turned his face to kiss her palm, “My love.” Her wrist, “My wife.” And her wedding ring. “I love you with all of my heart.”

“I love you, too.” She whispered through the sudden lump in her throat. “More than you know.”

“Ah, Sassenach.” He sighed, as he gather her trembling body close and lent down to kiss the top of her head. He was still inside her as she snuggled against him, listening to the thunderous beat of his heart, and his deep panting breaths.

She was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open, but she was so comfortable, so happy and content then she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to stay right here, in this moment with him forever. But as he reached down and pulled the quilts up over them, shielding them from the cool night breeze, her eyes slip shut and she drifted to sleep.

“Ye’ll be wantin’ to keep these.” Maggie whispered, as she offered the neatly folded white sheet out to Claire. She looked down at it, confused for a moment, before her eyes widened and she quickly grabbed it from her maid hands and clutched it against her suddenly pounding heart.

“Um, yes, thank you.” She blushed as her eyes darted around the room, looking for somewhere to stash it. Although her period had stopped, and he’d taken her virginity a few days before, she had bled a little yesterday, and the evidence of that was mixed with various other bodily fluids on the sheet she now held.

It was a disgusting custom, but it was necessary, and she had no doubt that his father or the priest would demand to see them.

How embarrassing!

They had kept the towel from their wedding night, but as Maggie had known she was bleeding, they hadn’t declared it yet. As far as anybody would know, she was a virgin until yesterday when her husband had locked them in their room, and barred the door.

“Are ye well, Milady, can I get ye anythin’?”

“No, I’m alright thank you, it’s nothing a hot bath won’t cure.” She lied. “But thank you for doing this, I know it isn’t your job.”

“T’is my job to take care of ye, Milady, and that includes ye emotional needs as well as ye physical.” She promised, as she laid a reassuring hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Now ye eat up, an I’ll check on ye water.”

The look Maggie flashed Claire, as she scurried out of the room, was one of profound pity. She’d been looking at her the same way since she’d entered with the tray of food that Jamie had called for, and she could only imagine what was going through her mind.

Although she’d attempted to make herself presentable, she still looked exactly like she’d spent the night being ravished by her beast of a husband. Her neck and chest were dotted with pink and purple love bites, her hair was frizzy and stuck up like a ducks arse, and she could hardly walk.

Or sit down.

God help the poor girls sensibilities when she caught sight of the real bruises. Even Jamie hadn’t seen them yet, and he was bound to have a shit fit when he did. For the first time, she was awake before him this morning. Her bladder had woken her, and after hobbling to her dressing room and peeing broken glass, she’d examined herself in the mirror.

Her shoulders and hips were shadowed with fingerprint bruises, and her inner thighs marked from the pressure of his hipbones. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hide them for long, but she’d still wrapped herself in her new silk dressing grown, before hobbling back to bed.

Fortunately he’d still been asleep, and when he had woken, she was tucked back up in bed and he’d been ravenous for food.

“A penny for ye thoughts.” He murmured, making her jump as he appeared behind her and lent down to kiss her neck. “What have ye there?”

“The bed sheet. Maggie gave it to me.” She shrugged, as she pulled her robe tighter around her and turned to look up at him over her shoulder. “I’ve no idea where to put it.”

“Why’s Maggie givin’ it to ye? If she’s stripped the bed, it should go down for washin’.” He frowned as he walked around her and took the seat opposite.

“Don’t we need it for evidence?”

“Evidence? Evidence of wh…” he stopped and his eyes widened as he reached over and snatched the sheet out of her hands. He shook it out, and stared at it in horror. “Claire, why…”

“Shush!” She ordered, rushing to her feet to grab it back from him. But she moved too fast, and she almost doubled over as the dull, throbbing pain shot through her cervix.

“Claire!” He cried, dropping the sheet and quickly rising to support her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine, I promise.” She whispered, as she stood upright still clutching at her lower stomach.

Jesus Christ that hurt!

“Clearly ye no.”

“I’m fine.”

“So help me God, woman!” He growled as he scooped her up in his arms and sat back on the chair, holding her securely in his lap. “Tell me what’s wrong…why are ye in pain? Why were ye bleedin’ again?”

“Jamie…shush! Maggie’s in the dressing room.”

“I dinna care.”

She sighed, and shifted on his lap, trying to get comfortable, as she snuggled against his warm chest and rested her head on his shoulder. There was nowhere she didn’t hurt. Muscles she didn’t even know she had, throbbed in the aftermath of their activities. But in a strange way, it was a satisfying pain, that brought back a flood of memories.

“I promise that I’m okay. I’m just sore from yesterday. You’re a lot bigger than me, Jamie, my body just needs to adjust.”

“I hurt ye?” He gasped, appalled as he tightened his arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ssh, please don’t.” She begged tipping her head back to look at him. His dark blue eyes were clouded with worry, and she reached up and gently touched his face. “Yesterday was beyond words. There wasn’t a second of it that I didn’t enjoy. If I could, I’d drag you right back to bed now and pick up where we left off.

“But I’ve used muscles I’ve never used before, and it will take some getting used to. Besides, you can’t tell me that you’re not at least a little bit…tender today.”

His lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers in a quick, gentle kiss.

“Aye, my cocks a wee bit battered and bruised.”

“Then I rest my case.”

He lent back in his chair, watching her through the window as she moved slowly from one plant to the next. She was examining the leaves and buds, checking her wee book, and snipping off the ones she needed. He could see the change in her gait from here, and he winced with every step she took.

He’d tried to convince her to go back to bed, insisting that she needed to rest. But the stubborn wee lass refused. Claiming she’d be more stiff and sore if she did naught but lounge around all day.

“Ye a man possessed.” Murtagh grumbled, drawing Jamie’s attention from his wife, as he wandered into his study and threw himself down onto a chair. “Where did ye bugger off to yesterday? Ye bastard horse almost took me arm off tryin’ to stable him.”

Reaching for his wine, Jamie casually pointed to the sheet folded on top of the dresser, then took a long drink.

“T’is done?” Murtagh asked as he pushed to his feet and crossed the room. He lifted the sheet, examined the blood stain, then carefully folded it back it up and placed it back where he found it. “Good man.” He nodded, then poured himself a drink and and returned to his seat. “Are ye well?”

“Aye.” Jamie smiled as he glanced back at Claire through the window, remember their night and seeing the stark contrast between her and Annalise.

Murtagh was the one person who knew how bad it really was, he’d been there through it all. He’d witnessed the drunken aftermaths. Listened as Jamie’s had detailed the horrors of bedding her, and described her tears and terror as he taken her. Heard their screaming fights in London, and stitched him up when she’d stabbed him with a letter opener.

He’d held him through the heartache of losing his children. Eased his guilt when she died, and supported his choice to never marry again, when his da had insisted that he did.

“T’is no the same.”

“She loves ye.”

“Aye, she does.” Jamie nodded, his heart warming at the knowledge, as he turned back to face his Godfather. “She’s no afraid. She enjoys it. Christ, she makes it fun. And when she reaches her pleasure…Lord God…”

“Lasses canna…”

Jamie raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips, trying not to smile smugly when Murtagh’s eyes widened. He was gaping at him in shock, and shaking his head in denial.

“No.”

“Yes.” Jamie nodded, as he took another drink.

“How?”

“Oh…In so many ways.” He smiled, remembering the way he’d teased her. He explored her body slowly, finding each sensitive spot, and drawing out one orgasm after another with his fingers, tongue and cock.

It was really no wonder she was so sore today, they’d been insatiable.

“It’s no the same as a man, obviously, and I’ll no divulge the secrets of my wife’s body. But next time, explore a little, and dinna be so fast to find ye own pleasure. Trust me, t’is worth the wait.” He winked, as he placed his glass down and pushed to his feet. “Now if ye’ll excuse me, I think I’ll join my wife in the garden.”

“Ye cocky bastard.” Murtagh grumbled, as rose and followed Jamie from the room. “I’ll be puttin’ Donas out with the mares again tomorrow.”

“Aye, I ken. I’ll be there, dinna worry.”

“Until ye get yer own cock-stand and go sniffing’ after ye wee fillie.”

“Aye, until then.” He laughed, as he bounced down the steps and crossed the driveway towards the garden. As he ducked under the archway he saw her crouched down, talking quietly with wee Jamie, and he slowed his steps as he watched.

She was showing him the things she’d collected in her basket, and it wasn’t difficult to replace his dark hair with red, and envision her teaching their own son.

The thought both excited and terrified him. After yesterday, there was a real possibility that she could be with child, and waiting twenty one days to find out, suddenly felt like a life time. Accepting a flower from Claire, wee Jamie kissed her on the cheek and toddled off in the direction of his nanny.

They both watched him go, and then Jamie quickened his pace, and carefully eased his hand under her arm to help her stand.

“I thought you had accounts to do this morning.” She smiled, as she handed him her basket, and linked her arm though his.

“Aye, but my mind may be a little too preoccupied with a certain wee lassie.” He winked as they turned to walk through the garden, away from the house. “I canna concentrate.”

“So whatever will you do with yourself? Your wee lassie is out of commission for a few hours yet.” She laughed, as she rested her head against his arm, and hugged him closer.

“If ye up to it, I thought we could maybe take a walk up to the kirkyard to visit the bairns. I havena been for awhile an’ I should go. Of course, I’ll understand if ye dinna want to, t’is no yer…”

“Jamie.” She whispered, tugging on his arm and forcing him to stop. He looked down at her in apprehension, but he needn’t have worried. Although it was tinged with sadness, she was smiling up at him, and her delicate hand came up to touch his face. “Of course I want to go with you. They’re your children, and I’d never dream of sending you off to see them alone. So, let’s pick some flowers and we can lay them together while you introduce us.”

He sighed quietly, and turned to pull her into his arms, not caring who saw. She was his wife, and he wouldn’t withhold their affections for the risk of offending some sensibilities. Especially not in their own home.

“What have I ever done to deserve ye?” He breathed, as she snuggled against his chest, holding him just as tightly as he was her.

“Something extraordinary good, obviously.” She shrugged against him. “Maybe you were a saint in a previous life, and you’re being rewarded now for your miraculous deeds.”

“Ye think very highly of yerself.” He laughed, tilting her chin so she was looking up at him.

“And who’s fault is that? I was perfectly modest until you sang my praises repeatedly yesterday.” She wink as her wee tongue peaked out to wet her lips.

“I’m afraid I dinna ken what ye talking about.”

“Well be a good boy, and I might just remind you.”

“I was hopin’ ye might say that. Cause there doesna appear to be anything wrong with ye mouth.” He murmured, as she gaped up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Aye, just like that.” He whispered, as he slipped his thumb into her mouth. “I want those lips wrapped around my cock, sassenach.”

Her breath caught, and she closed her lips around his thumb, sucking it hard, and caressing it with her tongue. Her dark whiskey eyes were suddenly alive with desire and he shuddered, as he slipped his thumb from her mouth, and pressed his lips to hers.

“Soon.”

#outlander #jamieandclaire #outlanderfanfiction #ceart-leth

[gettingbywithalittlehelp96]

The Price of His Mistakes

Part 21 - The Final Part!!!: The Sacrifice 

God blames his leaving on the mistakes and failures of his creations, but Eventually he will have to face his own mistakes.

ChuckxReader, CastielxReader

Chapter Characters: You/ReaderxGod/Chuck Shurley, You/Sam and Dean Winchester, You/Lucifer. (Crowley, Rowena, Kelly Kline, British Men of letters, and Castiel Mentioned.)

Warnings: Slight language, and mostly Angst. Character death (Not descriptive) 

Chapter Summary: You finally find the way to have your peaceful life.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17   Part 18  Part 19  Part 20 

Pulling your hair back into a ponytail, you slipped your gun into your side holster, and threw some extra bullets into your duffle bag with your angel blade, and the other goodies you had gotten from Mick and Ketch. You knew that if the boys found out where you were going or what you were planning they would try to stop you, so you carefully opened your bedroom door and started to sneak through the bunker, getting all the way out the door, before running into Sam and Dean.

“Boys,” you said with a nod, trying to act as normal as possible. “It’s a little early to already be awake don’t you think? Even for you two.”

“Oh I don’t know, don’t you think it’s a little early for you to be pulling your shit?” Dean retorted.

Clearing his throat, Sam elbowed his brother’s arm.

“Really?” Dean asked, sounded even more irritated. “She disappears for days on end. We drive ourselves crazy looking for her, only to get a phone call from Jody, or Claire, or Donna, or that’s right, the hospital, telling us she is clinging to life.”

Rolling your eyes you began to walk past them. “Don’t get your panties all in a bunch Dino, I’m just going for a run.”

Reaching for your hand, he grabbed the bag from you and opened it up, where Sam also peaked in at the contents.

“You’re still working with Mick and Ketch?” Dean growled. “What did it cost you this time?”

This wasn’t the first time, you had gone to Mick and Ketch looking for something to use, and as arranged, if they gave you the product your services were required in exchange.

Sam and Dean didn’t trust them and they blamed them for every near death experience you had had lately. Now it wasn’t that you did trust them, but they had tools and gadgets that you had never even heard of before and you knew that was the kind of stuff it would take to stop Lucifer once and for all. The thing that Sam and Dean chose to ignore, the truth that they rather not admit, was that it wasn’t the missions that were putting you in harms way, it was yourself. You were just done, and though you wouldn’t come right out and say it, looking for a way out.

“Stop Lucifer. I have to send Lucifer back to hell, and considering that was the plan anyway, I would say it didn’t cost me anything.”

“That’s because it’s already a suicide mission,” Sam said softly. “That’s why you’re doing it in the first place.”

“Seriously y/n,” Dean continued. “All of this time you have been trying get yourself killed? That is the kind of idea that you yell at Sam and I for having, yet you’re going to turn around and do it?”

“Jesus, you still do it don’t you?” you yelled back in response. “We can go over plan after plan and you will still pick the option that requires a sacrifice. I can beg people to stay until I’m blue in the face and no matter how hard I try I still end up sitting here and watching the people and world around me getting destroyed!”

“You’re doing this because of Chuck,” Sam stated softly, like he already knew the answer. “I mean what do you think he will do y/n? Do you really want to risk your life to get him to come?”

“That’s just it, I’m not planning on him coming back,” you said with a shrug. “I’m just so sick and tired of living like this. For a decade we have been trying to stop this world from ending and each time we beat one problem another one is just around the corner. For a decade I have had to watch as the two of you and Cass either die, or put the world a little closer to the brink of destruction because you can’t except the fact that maybe the world is trying to end.”

Snatching the bag back out of Dean’s hands you walked over to your car and threw it into the back seat, turning around to look at the brothers for what you knew what would be the last time. “Even God has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t care about what happens to this world or the people in it. I’m not going to keep going around in circles, with you, with Cass, with Chuck, with anybody, and the only way that is going to happen is if I leave for good.”

Spinning out in a cloud of dust, you drove away, leaving the boys behind you and never once looked back. You didn’t really say goodbye, and you didn’t even feel like crying, which you thought you would’ve. The truth was, you were too far gone to care. You had been done, ready to leave this live behind since the moment Chuck brought up running away, it just took almost eight years for you to finally admit it.

Lucifer’s plan of hiding out in the President was a brilliant plan you couldn’t deny. It made getting to him practically impossible, but once you found out about Kelly and how excited he was for his child it gave you the perfect advantage. You knew the president would still have to keep his affair a secret, but one frantic message from Kelly had him running to meet her. You weren’t about to waste anymore time, however, so that’s why when he arrived at the hotel and walked into room 217 he found you instead of the woman pregnant with his nephilim.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t God’s perfect whore,” Lucifer greeted, eyes glowing red. “Tell me y/n how did pops feel when he found out that even you are corrupted?”

“You know what? I do know that before he left again, he found comfort in the fact that he really is better than you at all things, and I mean all things.”

This got his attention even more, and just as he was thinking of his comeback, you continued. “Look I’m not here to play games with you, I want to make a deal.”

He started to laugh. “A deal? I hate to tell you sweetheart, but I’m at the top of the food chain. Why would I want to possess you.”

“And how long is that going to last?” you asked. “Because I hate to tell you this, but you are never going to Chuck’s attention, take it from me, and Sam and Dean? They are never going to stop trying to send you back to the pit. Just listen to what I’m proposing and you’ll see in the end that it is worth it.”

An unknown amount of time later.

Eyes slowly fluttering open, you tried to gather your surroundings. The bed, still warm under your body made you want to drift back to sleep, but you fought the urge, and sat up anyway. Flipping back the ugly, rust red sheets, you made mental note to remember to get new ones the next time you were at the store. You hated those sheets and for the life of you, you could not understand why you hadn’t gotten rid of them yet.

Bare feet against the hardwood floor you stood up, not even getting one full step in before your foot landed on a bundled up piece of paper. Sighing, you shook your head, and picked up the stray papers that led a path out of the bedroom. The empty bed, the discarded papers, you knew those were the signs of what was bound to be a very long day. Down the steps, you entered the living room surprised to find it empty, considering all the empty beer and whiskey bottles proved that you had indeed been right.

“Hey, I thought we agreed, you would lay off the alcohol,” you yelled, walking over to pick up the tipped bottles. “Being hungover all day doesn’t help you any.”

You waited for a response, but there was nothing. You didn’t even hear footsteps, and it was starting to worry you.

“Hey sweetie?”

Just then you became aware of your phone vibrating on the desk, where you had left it to charge the previous night. Putting the empty bottles back down on the desk, you picked up your phone and saw you had an unread message.  

Dean -

Zombies y/n. We finally got a Zombie case. We could really use your help though. Any chance you would meet us in Louisiana and get your Walking Dead on?

Y/n -

Not a chance, you know I’m not hunting anymore. Just aim for the head, and if it’s anything like the movies, don’t let them bite you. Maybe after this case you and Sam could make a trip back to see us? It’s been a while.

Setting your phone back down on the desk, you scooped the bottles back up in your arms and walked into the kitchen, only starting to panic more when you realized he wasn’t in the kitchen either. Luckily, you didn’t have much time to get worked up, because soon you heard the front door opening.

“Thank god!” you exclaimed running around the corner. “I thought we agreed you would wake -”

As soon as your eyes landed on him, you stopped dead in your tracks. The man looking back at you, looked like Chuck, but you knew he wasn’t your Chuck.

“You’re right y/n, I’m not him.” The way those blue eyes stared back at you, had you feeling unsettled, but once he realized you weren’t going to say anything he continued. “You can’t do this y/n, You can’t stay here. I can’t even believe you actually did this.”

Swallowing hard, the memories of what had happened came back to you in a flash. You saw yourself lying to Sam and Dean, telling them that you were going to try to take Lucifer on, not that you were going to tell him about the plan with Rowena to stuff him back in the cage. You remembered telling Lucifer about how you knew Crowley had a plan to send him back to Nick’s vessel. The newly rebuilt vessel that was controlled by Crowley and that only Crowley would be able to control, kill even.

You warned Lucifer that Sam and Dean would never give up on stopping him, and rightfully so, but if he let Crowley’s plan play out, it would be only a matter of time till he got loose again. He would kill Crowley, and with that the only person able to destroy him would be dead. All he had to do was kill you.  

You didn’t know if he had helped you to remember, or not, but a part of you knew had kind of known what was going on the moment you woke up in those god awful sheets.

“I’ve got to send you back,” Chuck said, snapping back you into reality. “You don’t deserve to die like that.”

“I don’t deserve to live like I was either,” you retorted.

“Please y/n. Do you have any idea what it was like to watch you die? Just let me send you back, and if this is the kind of life you want, I can do that. I told you I could send you and Cass away so you could live a normal life.”

Scoffing you shook your head. “I’m pretty sure I already told you that I didn’t want Cass, I wanted you. All I have wanted from the moment we first met Chuck Shurley was too be with him, but even if you said you would come back, I can’t trust that you will stay.”

“Please stop,” he pleaded again. “You can’t expect me to be okay with you doing this.”

Sitting down on the couch you turned on the TV, keeping your back turned towards him. “I stopped expecting things a long time ago Chuck. That’s why I’m done waiting for the time I get to live in peace. This right here is what I want, and if you really do love me, you’ll leave me alone and let me have it.”

Hearing the door close from behind you, you closed your eyes and held your breath, waiting to wake up in some hospital, but instead, you opened your eyes and found the Chuck that you had fallen in love with sitting at his desk in the corner of the room, wearing that raggedy sweater and those same dorky glasses you loved so much.

“Hey y/n, how about we go to the drive in tonight?” he asked turning around to look at you with a big smile.

Returning the smile, you let out a breath with a big sigh, like it was the first time you were getting to do it in a long time. “Sounds perfect Chuck.”   

@natasha-cole  • @tas898 • @shanghai88 • @collinscosmicentity • @two-sidedsoul • @klinenovakwinchester • @lara-bradbury • @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name • @missihart23 •  @internationalmusicteacher • @sherlockedtash88 • @narisjournal-blog • @rblstrash • @princess-of-erebor1992 •  @sirraxa • @wontlookaway • @burningrupture •  @brokencasbutt67-writer • @winchestergirl-13 •  @marichromatic • @notfunnystillhere • @kocswain • @apeshit7x • @spnmightkillme •  @damn-it-destiel • @cyrilconnelly • @srtaprieto • @dropthepizza346 • @queenofhellwithcrowley • @pinkykayley • @lauragail2007 • @regandm • @idabbleincrazy • @probably-writing-something •  @hunterpuff • @lucerospn1detc • @draiela • @zeddlocket• @jayyx3oxo • @deanwherescas • @lullabylike · @linki-locks11 · @jamielea81 • @itsfunnierin-enochian 

#chuck shurley #chuck shurley x reader #chuck shurley x you #god! chuck #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #castiel #castiel x you #sam winchester #dean winchester #lucifer #lucifer and you

[stonathans-stranger]

stonathan prompt: steve is mind possessed by the demogorgon and forced to fight jonathan, but j refuses to harm him. steve eventually comes to and realises hat he’s done but jonathan is already unconscious and bleeding on the ground (bonus if it’s raining for Dramatique Effect™️) thanks so much!!!

just reading this prompt made me laugh and want to cry at the same time, thank you for such a creative prompt!! TW for non descriptive gore in the beginning. Coming in at 1748 words, here’s “Take That Look From Off Your Face”, inspired by Don’t Look Back in Anger by Oasis, I highly suggest you listen to it while reading. (idk why but i read the prompt and this song immediately jumped to the front of my mind, the beat reminds me of rain and the lyrics remind me of jonathan for some reason) ANYWAYS 

Jonathan raced down the hallway, Dustin hot on his heels. The lights in the Lab were flashing, driving Jonathan nuts. Blood covered the walls, and bodies laid scattered on the floor, dressed in high military gear.

“Holy shit!” Dustin screamed, leaping over a body to keep up with Jonathan. Jonathan could hardly hear him over the blaring sirens. ‘Too little too late’, he thought. The place was fucking destroyed. Walls were crumbling, and ceiling tiles lay on the floor behind him and Dustin. The others, excluding Dustin, Nancy, Steve and himself were at Starcourt, including El.

The realization hit Jonathan too late.

“It’s here.” He shouted to no one in particular.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dustin yelled back.

“The monsters, they’re here. This isn’t El. This is something else.”

“Yeah, you fucking numbskull, just getting that now?” Dustin rolled his eyes mightily as they continued down the hallway, entering the lobby area. It was pouring outside, the drops of rain pattering against the windows, echoing throughout the lobby, sending chills down Jonathan’s spine as he panted, heaving breaths. Jonathan caught a glimpse of Nancy’s neon green shirt from outside, a stark contrast to the night she was surrounded by. She was wielding Steve’s bat, and Jonathan could see panic in her eyes.

“Dustin,” Jonathan turned to Dustin. “I need you to do me a favor, alright? I need you to stay right here. No matter what happens, you don’t go outside. Do you understand?” Jonathan knelt in front of Dustin so they could see eye to eye.

“Jonathan, I always help in fights, I can do this-”

“I know you could, but right now, you have way too much life ahead of you for me to risk that. Okay? So no matter what, I need you to stay right here, you don’t make a sound, you don’t move, no matter what happens to me or Nancy. Do you understand? You wait here til someone comes to get you.”

Dustin nodded, tears forming in his eyes.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” Jonathan said, guiding Dustin behind the lobby desk, where he could crouch and hide. After, Jonathan took off running, bursting through the glass doors and into the downpour. Nancy turned to him, wide eyed, a cut running from her hairline to her eyebrow, dripping in blood. Steve stood behind her, distanced, his lip curling in a smile.

“Nice of you to join us, Jonny,”

“Jonathan, run.” The urgency in Nancy’s voice scared him, but he stayed put. He took a closer look at his boyfriend, whose neck was crawling with this black liquid traveling up into his face.

“Steve?” Jonathan said timidly. “What’s wrong with your neck?” He rushed over to Steve, ready to patch him up and take care of him, as Jonathan normally did.

Steve only laughed. As Jonathan neared Nancy, she stuck out and arm, refusing to let him go any further.

“The monster.” Nancy said, her voice quivering.

All the pieces began to fit in the puzzle for Jonathan.

The flashing lights, blaring sirens, the liquid.

“Steve.” He breathed, visibly deflating.

“Jo-on.” Steve said in a sing-song voice.

“Don’t.” Nancy said. “He’ll draw you in just to try to beat your ass.” She pointed to the cut on her forehead. “I’d know.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Steve said through gritted teeth. “When has she ever told you the truth?” Steve crept closer. “Tell me, Jonathan, the last time you trusted her.” He tucked the piece of Jonathan’s bang that always fell in his face behind his ear. He felt like Steve, but the words coming out of his mouth weren’t his.

“Please,” Jonathan sighed. “Give me Steve back.” Steve cupped Jonathan’s cheek, smiling. Then, he jerked his arm back, and Jonathan felt a sting on the side of his cheek. He stumbled backwards in surprise, holding his cheek.

“Steve, fucking stop.” Nancy’s words were steel, but not enough to coax whatever had a hold on him out. Steve slammed a fist into Jonathan’s stomach, fully knocking him on his ass. “Steve!” She cried again as he straddled Jonathan, bearing down on him as the rain poured. The rain soaked ground coated Jonathan’s arms in mud. Steve landed punch after punch on Jonathan’s face, busting his lip, bruising his cheek, tearing at the skin on his forehead.

“Too tired to fight, Jonny-boy?” Steve said, hardly breaking a sweat.

“I’m not gonna fight you.” Jonathan said, his voice weak and cracking.

“Why the hell not?” Steve roared, standing up. “Maybe it’s the cowardice finally getting to you, huh?”

“Maybe.” Jonathan groaned. “Maybe it’s ‘cause I love you. Either way, I won’t fight you. I won’t hurt you.” Steve kicked at Jonathan.

“Fucking stop!” Nancy cried out. “Fucking stop it! You’re gonna fucking kill him!”

Steve kicked him again, and again, and again, the blows coming in time with the rain hitting Jonathan’s face. After five more kicks, Jonathan’s head lolled to the side, and his body went limp. Nancy shoved Steve out of the way, realizing Jonathan was on the brink of death. She sent him into the mud, scrambling to regain his balance.

“Jonathan!” She screamed. She used her arm to prop him up, and took his pulse.

Weak, but there.

“…Nancy?” She swiveled around to see Steve holding his head, the black disappearing from his neck. “Jonathan! What the fuck?” He rushed to Jonathan’s other side. “Did I black out? What the fuck? Is he okay? We need to get him to the hospital now.”

“Steve.” Nancy swallowed.

He looked to her, and her eyes swelling with tears, the blood on her forehead becoming eerily apparent to himself.

“No.” He breathed. “Nancy. Please tell me I didn’t do this.”

“Go get Dustin.”

“Nancy-”

“Go get Dustin!” She yelled. “I’ll take him to the car.”

Steve did as he was told, entering the Lab, where no light could be found. He found Dustin crouched under the lobby desk, tears staining his cheeks.

“C’mon.” Dustin rushed into Steve’s arms, and Steve held him for a five count. “We really have to go, Dusty.”

He followed Steve to the car silently, and he took shotgun, while Steve supported Jonathan ins the backseat, crying silently, holding him to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Nance.” Steve sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It wasn’t you.” Nancy said, and Steve could hear the tears in her own voice. “You didn’t do that.”

It took them fifteen minutes to reach the hospital from the outskirts of Hawkins, and the rain pounded on the windows the whole ride there, which is when Steve realized he, Nancy and Jonathan were completely soaked and mudstained. Nancy pulled up to the hospital curb, letting Steve get out, and unlocking Dustin’s door so he could help with Jonathan. Steve carried Jonathan into the hospital, bridal-style.

“Someone help him, please,” he sobbed weakly. The receptionist and the nurse standing behind her rushed to their side, lowering Jonathan to the ground, and another receptionist ushered Steve away, to give Jonathan room. “Help him,” he cried at the receptionist guided him to the waiting room.

After what felt like hours, but was just a half hour, Steve figured he’d call Joyce. He slid two quarters into a payphone at the hospital, and dialed the Byers’s number. He prayed somebody, anybody would be there.

On the fifth ring, someone picked up.

“Byers residence, this is Joyce speaking.” She sounded so tired, so physically exhausted. It pained Steve to know he had to tell Joyce her son was dying and that he was the sole cause.

“Joyce, uh, this is Steve. I’m calling from the hospital.”

“Hospital! Steve, sweetie, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s Jonathan. He’s…in pretty bad shape. He took a rough beating.” Steve’s voice cracked, and tears began spilling down his face again. “I’m so sorry, Joyce.” He cried into the phone.

“You hold on. I’ll be there in forty, okay? Do you like chocolate milk or water?”

“Water is fine.”

“I’ll be there in forty minutes. You just stay put, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

“Okay.” And with that Steve hung up, and took his place in the waiting room. About twenty minutes later, a doctor came to get Steve.

“Hello, Steve is it?” He only nodded, fearing the worst. “My name is Doctor Otto Keebler, and I’m taking care of Jonathan currently. We have him on a morphine drip, and we got stitches in him. Lucky for him, no broken bones, but he does have a sprained wrist.  He’s still unconscious, but the morphine should wake him up. Would you like to come see him?”

“Yes! Yes.” Steve said. He followed Doctor Keebler back to Jonathan’s room, where he lay, completely still. His wrist was wrapped in pink tape, and it had a brace over it. His forehead was stitched up, and his lip and other places that weren’t stitched were scabbing over.

“I’m going to go check on another patient.” The doctor said, leaving Steve with Jonathan. He took a seat on Jonathan’s right, so he could hold his uninjured hand. Only a few moments after Doctor Keebler left, Jonathan’s eyes began to flutter open.

“Steve?” he groaned.

“Oh my God, Jon,” Steve took a kneeling position by his side. “I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so sorry, Jon, I promise I never meant to hurt you I just-”

“Shh.” Jonathan silenced Steve. “I know.” Tears spilt out of Steve’s eyes and down his face. Steve didn’t care to wipe them off. Jonathan squeezed Steve’s hand as he sobbed into Jonathan’s sleeve.

“I’m so damn sorry.” He apologized profusely. Jonathan scooted over in the hospital bed and patted the spot next to him, and Steve took the offer graciously, climbing in next to Jonathan, still crying. He held Jonathan, the tears beginning to dry.

“At least I’m in dry, not muddy clothes anymore, right?” Jonathan chuckled to himself, trying to get Steve to crack a smile. “Hey, listen. You’re okay. I’m okay. That wasn’t you, Stevie. You would never hurt me. Never in a million years, I know that. That was a fucking monster. You, Steven Gregory Harrington, are not a monster. You’re a hell of a boyfriend and a damn good babysitter and I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you and no godforsaken inter-dimensional monster is gonna change that. Got it?”

Steve only nodded, burrowing further into the crook of Jonathan’s neck.

                                                    Forgiveness

                                                Can you imagine?

                                                    Forgiveness

                                                Can you imagine?

Bonus: Songs I Listened To While Writing This

Don’t Look Back In Anger - Oasis

I Believe, I Don’t Do Sadness/Blue Wind, Left Behind - Spring Awakening Soundtrack

bad guy - Billie Eilish

Sign of the Times - Harry Styles (happy two years, SOTT!!)

Shrike - Hozier

#stonathan #my writing #prompt fill #ask #stranger things #i wove them #this prompt was so fucking fun to write #the last quote is from hamilton

[wingsoffireconfessions]

What do you guys think of cringe culture? I remember writing up my own dragons for WOF when I read it a lil while back, and I found a few of the drawings and I kinda cringed but remember how happy I was and I kinda wanna go back to it (mildly nervous of what ppl would think but still)

oh you have come to the right person for cringe culture talk

short answer: 

it’s stupid, fake, and all-around bad

long answer, and boy is it long:

the problem with cringe culture is that is almost inevitably directed at children having harmless fun. think of something cringey; chances are, you thought of “ten year old’s bad op oc” before, for example, “40 year old man getting into debates about anime on the internet”*. chew on that for a sec. why is a child having innocent fun…

…a bad thing?

it’s really not! like, children interacting with their favorite media(s) by making a character - often a self-insert, we’ve all been there - is literally enjoying the story so much that they want to be a part of it. that’s good! that’s GREAT, even! that’s a sign you’re doing a damn good job as a writer / artist / filmmaker / etc - your fans are so hyped about your world that they’d want to exist in it.

but then the people in fandom who have already learned that OCs To Have Fun With Are Bad** pass that lesson on to the next decade of tweens who made something for themselves and had the judgement of the digital world come down on it like the hand of god.

my first notable ocs were;

- a silver dragon, who could heal herself from the brink of death because she drank from a pool of molten silver, who also lost an eye and was super scarred because she was always getting in fights to do good. she had extensive, elaborate, unnecessary adventures and, of course, a tragic parenthood arc because i had been reading warriors books

- a half-dragon, half-pegasus mlp oc who literally angsted so badly he unleashed town-flattening destructive power that was absolutely never explained, and then died, and then ended up alive again because i decided that was too sad. this was the entirety of his story.

- a human who drops out of school and drives away to a nearby town, where she’s given shelter by an elderly werewolf woman, falls in love with the werewolf’s adult granddaughter, and they open a small town cafe where they all live happily ever after, as far as life allows. the physical manifestation of Death is also there.

those can all be very cringe if looked at by someone who wants them to be. but, of course, with only a few alterations you could plausibly use these descriptions on the superhero Wolverine, Anakin Skywalker, and… well, okay, I can’t think of an equivalent for the last one because I’m making the gay fantasy slice of life book I want to see in the world, but 2/3 isn’t too bad. it probes my point, which is, essentially:

when the ‘cringey’ ideas are done by skilled producers and are meant to be seen and responded to by the world, cough and the characters are straight white cis men cough people will accept them.

when the ‘cringey’ ideas are done by children or other, less skilled creators, generally for a small audience or just to self-indulge, and don’t say minority content doesn’t play a part here bc it often is included as cringe for being minority, people will make entire blogs dedicated to mocking them for not being up to the same standard that their million-dollar-production-value source material has.

basically what im getting at here is like… the only cringey thing about cringe culture is that people still use the term, like, genuinely. it’s fake! you’re just putting a goofy name on mocking children on the internet! bake a cake or something!

so long as it’s not hurting anybody, what’s the hecking point in acting like it’s the end of the world that someone has an oc with a rare pigment mutation and powers unexpected for their species and has an angsty backstory where their family cast them out***? 

if what you’re doing isn’t harmful, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. if you love something, love it. just don’t expect to be catered to if it’s not a media directed at you**** and don’t get in the way of the actual target audience enjoying it*****.

just be normal! just be a person enjoying something. i assure you that such a thing happens all the time. there are people who like star wars that don’t know what the word fandom means, and god some days i wish i were them.

*adults doing freaky shit are, in fact, the only people who deserve the term

**they have often learned this by being a part of the decade prior to the one that they are teasing. anyone who gets super upset about “””cringey””” ocs more than 10 years after having that phase needs to turn off the computer and go for a walk

***just so none of you get any ideas, this sentence is genuinely me describing one of my current OCs, Drifter

****looking at you, bronies

*****also looking at bronies; there used to be a designated safe search cleanup event bc of all the nsfw content of cute cartoon horses. as far as i know, this has not changed.

#cringe culture #long post #mod posts #wings of fire #wof #anonymous #ask

[changesxnight]

14. “Have you ever thought about… like… us?” Dallas

Dallas Winston was speeding down the highway with his left hand on the steering wheel of the cherry red T-Bird and his right hand on his girlfriend’s thigh. They both wore sunglasses, long hair blowing in the wind as they headed West, chasing the sunset. The plan was to go to California but they’d go where the road would take them. Neither had a care in the world; they just wanted to get out of that God forsaken town. Tulsa wasn’t big enough for the both of them.

Sylvia turned down the radio after the umpteenth love song ended. That was all the ever played on the radio, it seemed. Songs about the ideal relationship, perfect dates and true love everlasting. She never had that with Dallas. She couldn’t even plan a future with him in it because he was always so unpredictable. One day he wanted to show the world she was his and the next, he didn’t want to see her face for another second. His attitude changed faster than the weather in spring.

He noticed the volume changed and he looked down and then at her. “What’d you do that for?” His accent thick, his voice a snarl.

“Have you ever thought about…like…us?” There. She finally said it. She let out a quiet sigh, relieved she actually got it out. Dallas never wanted to talk about his feelings, to a point where Sylvia doubted he even felt anything. For her or for anybody, for that matter. Apathy was his middle name.

He nearly stopped the car in the middle of the highway. It was unusually bare for a Friday evening. “What?” Silence. She couldn’t get out a single word. Her breath was caught in her throat. “What did you just say?”

She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling and she regretted saying anything. She regretted getting in the car, even agreeing to the adventure. She should’ve just kept her damn mouth shut, she cursed herself. He looked at her, demanding an answer. “Nothing,” it came out short and quick. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” he insisted. “What did you say?”

Sylvia has watched him run from cops and get into fights that left him on the brink of death. He was a self-destructive time bomb, always running to his own demise. He’s yelled, screamed and carried on like a fool. She has seen almost every side to him; or at least, only the sides she believes could ever exist. Dallas Winston, even at seventeen, was terrifying by nature. He’s gone through Hell and back and laughs in the face of danger. But nothing was scarier than his tranquility. When he was upset but kept his cool, people stopped and stared. Dallas could never conceal his emotions, so when he did, the world stopped. Her mouth was open but no words would come out. “Have you…ever thought… about us?” She repeated slowly. “What…Where are we going, Dal?”

He misunderstood her, thinking in a physical destination. “I dunno. Does it matter? California! Alright, we’ll go to California.”

“I mean, us. You and me, Dally. Where do you picture us in the future? In a year from now, will we still be together?”

“I dunno! Why can’t we just focus on where we are right now?” More than anything, Dallas hating commitment and thinking about the future. He was spontaneous and went with the flow. After living in New York, he learned planning was useless; things will always go wrong.

“What are we doing right now?”

“Driving, can’t you see?”

“I mean—!” Sylvia was frustrated.

Dallas chuckled; he loved getting on her nerves. “I think we’re doing fine. We fuck when we’re horny and don’t when we’re not. It’s perfect.”

“What if I want more, Dallas?” She was using his full name; he should’ve known to shut his mouth.

“What more could you want?”

She didn’t know what she wanted to hear, but this wasn’t it. “Dallas, what’s my middle name?”

He didn’t know. “Uhm..Maria?”

“Nope.”

“Penelope?”

“Not even close.” He continued to guess until she cut him off. “Jade. My middle name is Jade. How about my birthday? When is my birthday?” He guessed random dates and he didn’t even suggest the correct month. “September ninth. My birthday is September ninth.” She took a breath, trying to collect her thoughts before saying, “You, Dallas Tucker Winston, were born on November ninth in Detroit, Michigan. I know you, Dal. Do you know a thing about me?” He stuttered, unable to think of anything. She smirked sarcastically. She should’ve known he didn’t care.

Sylvia hadn’t paid any attention to the road signs before but now she searched for a nearby motel. When she found one, she told Dallas to pull in and drop her off. “Oh, c’mon baby. We can work this out.”

“Dallas, you don’t even know my birthday. You’ve known me for three years! If we haven’t figured this out yet, will we ever?” She slammed the door after grabbing her purse and walked into the office of the small motel to request a room for the night. He waited, wanting to get her back.

When she came out with a key, she glared at him. “What are you gonna do?” He called, shouting across the parking lot.

“I’m calling Evie to pick me up. We’re only an hour from Tulsa.”

“Baby, c’mon! Get in the car and we’ll forget about this shit.”

“Go home, Dallas!” She screamed. “Leave me alone! Just go home. We’re over!” She ran into her room and slammed the door. Dallas swore under his breath and hit the steering wheel over and over, trying to get his anger out. The two of them were always so toxic for the other, constantly breaking up, but they always got back together. Except this time. They both had a sick feeling this was gonna be the last time.

#Dallas Winston #The Outsiders #the outsiders imagine #Dallas winston imagine #my writing #sylvia #mine

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 5

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 4  -  Part 6

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader… eventually. I love a slow burn okay?!)

Prompt: The nightmare comes frequently and at the same time every day - one day you manage to sleep peacefully only to be greeted with the morning news by a story of a gruesome murder. The victim is the same person that’d appeared in your dreams

Warnings: none I think! I don’t even know if I swore in this one!

Word Count: 2016

A/N: Some day I will make a graphic and a masterpage for this fic... Some day... Huge thank you to @littlemisssyreid for helping me fix this chapter up!

If there was one thing that Bucky Barnes could do well, it was disappear into a crowd. He’d practiced it countless times over decades of running from ghosts and demons; some imagined, some real. Immeasurable resources had been invested into making sure he could disappear when needed - making sure he could be nothing but a ghost story.

The last time, running from HYDRA, and SHIELD, and every other government acronym he could think of, it had all been confusing and unnerving at first. He’d wake in the middle of the night from a dream that tugged at him like a memory. He could never quite piece together the past and he’d run, seeking anywhere that wasn't familiar. With unrelenting desperation, he’d sought any place where he could look down an alley without seeing blood on his hands. He'd needed time to get his feet beneath him after years of shifting ground.

This time, he knew who he was and he had one goal: put that training to good use for once and keep you safe and hidden.

With your bag over his shoulder and an arm around your waist, Bucky guided you into the station. While you found the sudden proximity more than a little jarring, you were damn grateful for the support. Your head still throbbed from where Tony’s driver had tried to crack your skull against your own bathroom floor. Your legs felt wobbly beneath you as your head spun and you bit back nausea.

Rest. Why wouldn’t Bucky just let you rest.

“I need you to pull it together, people are starting to stare,” he whispered in your ear, while pretending to look over your shoulder at the iconic clock behind you. The buzz of Grand Central Station whirled around you, adding to the hazy feeling behind your eyelids.

“Oh please, these people have seen worse hangovers on the Monday commuter,” you grumbled before pulling away from him a little. Maybe you were leaning on him more than was absolutely necessary, but you were groggy and he was strong. It was nice to have something to hold onto for a moment while your world fell out from beneath your feet.

“Wait here, I’m going to get us tickets.” You slumped to the floor, leaning your head back against the smooth marble wall and wincing against the pain of the tender bruise at the back of your head. “You see those cameras there?” he asked and your gaze followed his nod as he glanced at the various security cameras around the station “They can’t see you from here. Don’t move.”

You watched one of the two cameras as they swiveled but never quite made the angle to reach you. “Don’t move. Got it. I can definitely do that.”

He didn’t go far, not even to the ticket counter. Instead, he thrust a crisp one hundred dollar bill in front of a panhandler, promising it would be his if he’d bring back 4 specific tickets using the rest of the money Bucky slipped into his pocket.

Four tickets and one happy homeless man later, you and Bucky were on the move again. This time he’d shed his jacket, instructing you to keep your head up as you made your way to the subway station. You passed in clear line of surveillance cameras as you navigated the crowds onto the train headed downtown, towards the Tower. None of this made sense. Secrecy one moment, in full view of the cameras the next?

Without warning Bucky shoved your back against the wall of the train car beside the door. Stunned confusion played across your face. The fog of the concussion lingering in your brain left you gaping at Bucky as his large hands gripped your shoulders. He waited only a moment, glancing at the other boarding passengers before slipping his jacket back on and pulling the hood over his head. He knelt quickly and unzipped your bag, tossing you a hoodie and sunglasses.

“Put ‘em on, quick,” he insisted. He yanked the bottom of the hoodie as you pulled it over your head, urging you to change faster. Now hiding from the sight of the security cameras, he then took your hand and dragged you behind him the length of the train car, before stepping back out onto the platform. The same platform you’d just entered from.

“What the hell?” you grumbled as the doors slid closed behind you and the train left in the direction of Stark Tower without you. “We need it to look like you’ve gone back to the Tower,” he explained in a low murmur. “The others can be ready for him when he tries to follow you there. But we’ll be long gone.”

He hardly spoke as he pulled you through this maze; all you could do was hang on and follow orders, growing more and more irritated as the exhaustion crept into your bones.

He was nearly silent, moving swiftly back up the stairs to Grand Central terminal. This time you avoided the cameras, skimming the edges of the building and blending in with the crowd. He’d pulled you under his arm, wordlessly ordering you to keep your head down. With your body pressed so close to him, his jacket obscured half of your body, there was no way anyone would be able to pick you out in the crowd, even if they tracked you to the station.

With nothing to do but wait on the platform for the New Haven line, all of the racing around and secrecy began to catch up with you. The fear and rush of self-preservation slipped away as the events of the day began to sink in. It became impossible to keep your thoughts from straying to the mess you were in; the dead body in your apartment, the pulsing ache at the back of your head, the crushing imminence of the situation - how close you had been to death. Already.

Suddenly all of your fear and frustration erupted to the surface and in a panicked haze, you directed it at nearest person to you. Bucky.

You shoved your hands against him and wriggled out from under his arm. He looked down at you with a confused scowl.

“Will you talk to me?” you hissed.

“What?”

“What the hell is going on? First we’re driving back to the Tower, then we’re on a train to the Tower, running through the train station like we’re on some deranged scavenger hunt, and now we’re just standing here?” You were starting to panic, everything was catching up, settling in your brain, and pushing you to the brink. “Is-is someone following us? What are we doing? Are we safe here?”

You ran your hands over your face, wishing that when you opened your eyes this would all be a dream. No such luck. Your hands shook as you pulled them away and your breathing came in tight hiccuping gasps.

Bucky reached out to grip your elbow firmly and pull you back to him. “You cannot make a scene here,” he whispered harshly in your ear, wrapping his other arm tightly around your shoulders. “We’re trying to get out of the city unnoticed. Not the place for this.”

“I-- I can’t breathe!” you sputtered between frantic gasps as your hands clambered at the fabric of his hoodie. Willing your lungs to take in more oxygen, your eyes began to water, hot salty tears spilling out over your cheeks. Your other hand gripped tightly to the edge of Bucky’s jacket for any semblance of stability; your world was spinning out of control and any sense of power sifted through your fingers like it was snow that was too cold, too crisp to hold together.

“Anybody here could-- could be... “ you stammered.  A flood of awareness struck you full force as the gravity of it all began to weigh on your mind. “And-- and-- and what about my family? I didn’t even think about my aunt! And my-- my-- I have a roommate! Shit! She’s going to come home to a busted in door and a fucking dead guy on the bathroom floor! That guy was… was fine on the way over. Holy shit. Does that mean Loki was outside my apartment?!” Your hands flew to cover your mouth, as if containing the words would make them less true.

“Woah woah, slow down. You’re okay,” Bucky hushed you, this time with a more comforting tone. “Tony will be watching your family and they’ll clean up the mess at your apartment, if the police aren’t already there.” He was so close and so quiet. His warm breath fanned over the ridge of your ear as he held you tight. To anyone else on the platform you looked like a couple enjoying each other’s warmth. In reality, you were choking on your own stuttering sobs as a fresh wave of helplessness overwhelmed you.

“But he… he was right there! How can anyone protect me?” you cried. “How can I be safe anywhere?”

“Listen,” he said firmly. He leaned back just enough to take your face in both hands. He tilted your head up to meet his determined gaze and even the gesture, the steadiness it provided, had a calming effect on your frayed nerves. Just having something concrete to focus on was enough. “You were in the first place anyone would look. I shouldn’t have taken you back to your apartment, but I promise, I’m going to get you out of here. No one will know where to start looking, okay?”

You nodded through a sniffle, his hands, still clasped around your face, bobbing with the motion.

“That’s a little Dexter Morgan, but, thanks?” you managed to laugh. A breathy, wet sound, stiff through tears and a low simmering fear that would never quite dissipate.

“There you are.” He smiled down at you and released you, only to drop his arm back over your shoulder as the train approached. He sighed as he ushered you forward. “It’ll get easier. It’s been a long day and you’re not used to all this yet.”

“Yet,” you scoffed. The bitterness was almost palpable on your tongue as you spat the word. “So where are we going?”

Bucky knelt beside you as you slid into one of the booths, making room for him. Instead of joining you, he dropped your duffle bag onto the seat you’d left vacant for him and pulled out a wad of cash.

“You are going to Connecticut.” He reached for a pen and began scribbling on the back of a train schedule. “Get off at this stop,” he instructed, circling the stop three times. “There’s a motel a quarter of a mile from the train stop.” He scrawled out the name of it. “Ask for room 107. Pay cash.”

“You’re… you’re leaving?” you stammered. A wave of shock and panic flushed all the blood from your face as your stomach twisted into knots.

“Trust me, if I had any other choice… But we need supplies, doll.”

“Dolls are for children. This isn’t a game, Barnes!” you snapped. You were fuming, glaring at him. By now your emotions were utterly fried and you’d bypassed polite at least 2 crises ago. Fear threatened to bubble to the surface again at the thought of going this alone. You’d have died in your apartment on your own; how the hell would you get safely out of the city?

“It’s just Bucky,” he corrected as he rose to his feet with a reassuring smile before squeezing your shoulder gently. “And I’ll be right behind you. I just need an hour and we’ll be ready to disappear.”

You could only manage to stare at him, somewhere between a glare and a shocked frown.

He picked up the train schedule again and turned the writing to your face. “Follow these directions,” he urged, placing the pamphlet with his notes into your hands.  “And stay awake!” He adjusted his hood lower over his face and stepped off the train.

Before the doors had even closed he was gone.

Tags: strikethrough means Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. Let me know if you’ve changed your URL and I’ll update. Otherwise if you have the NSFW setting on or your blog isn’t searchable, Tumblr may prevent tagging you. If I can’t tag you thrice, I’ll remove you from the list.

Everything: @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes  @creideamhgradochas  @johnmurphys-sass  @nykitass  @learisa  @4theluvofall  @ailynalonso15  @amrita31199  @assbutt-son-of-a-bitch  @badassbaker  @bethy-sue  @brandnewberettaa  @caitsymichelle13  @calaofnoldor  @callamint  @charlesgrey1875  @cojootromuelle  @denialanderror  @dracsgirl  @dreamtravelerme  @ek823  @emilyinbuffalo  @epicbooklove  @explodingzombiesyndrome  (2)  @feelmyroarrrr  @forgottenswan  @ginamsmith  @givemethatgold  @glittervelvetandlace  @haleyloveshugs  @heartsaved  @hellomissmabel  @-hiddlesdweeb-  @hollycornish  @httpmcrvel  @i-am-mrsreckless  @iiharu-kunii  @imheretomarvel  @indominusregina  @ishipmybed  @itsnotsomefangirl  @james-bionic-barnes  @jurassicbarnes  @justreadingfics  @just-call-me-your-darling  @kanupps06  @kapolisradomthoughts  @k-nighttt  @kaaatniss  @langinator  @larry-pringles  @lilasiannerd  @lovelyladylilac  @luckylundy13  @marvelatmytrash  @mcfuccfairy  @melconnor2007  @movingonto-betterthings  @mrs-lamezec  @midnightloverslie  @moonbeambucky  @morduniversum  @mrs-brxghtside  @nikkitia7  @nicmob  (2)  @omalleysgirl22  @palaiasaurus64  @pcterpvrker  @pickledmoon  @pineapplebooboo  @rockintensse  @rotisserierogers  @rrwilson66  @sammysgirl1997  @science-of-deduction-sh  @saharzek (1) @sebbytrash  @secondstartotheright-imagines  @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th  @shifutheshihtzu @simplyashley95  @sociallyimpairedme  @sophiealiice  @stupidsweaterwearingdumbdorks  @tequilavet  @thatgirlsar  @thebitterbookeater  @theliarone  @thelastxgoodthing  @unlikelygalaxygiver  @w1nterchild  @waywardpumpkin  @winterboobaer   @witchymarvelspacecase  @wordsturnintostories  @xnegansgirlx  @zoejohnson8  @cassandras-musings    @decemberftw  (2)  @tired-alpaca  @sapphire1727   @spookymaddie  (2)  @whyisbuckyso  @you-didnt-see-that-cuming 

Series:

@aka-angela  @buckysquad  @emmahemmings26  @ex-bookjunky  @fizzylollipop12  @flashwarning0-0  @ihavemymomentsstill @kozmicrock  @kudosia  @lightningdays23  @lovingllamareview  @marvelrevival  @qnzdiamond104  @rebeccamaximoff  @sarahmatthews7  @seb-smut (1)  @thedoctorlivesthroughbooks  @tittymuncher69  @untimelyideasforstories  @waitforthehurricanelore 

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff #watch me run 5 #bucky imagine #avengers fic

[vmheadquarters]

What Goes Around... (Part 26)

This is PART 26 of a story that is being told in segments by twenty-seven different authors, campfire-style. Each author will take over the story with no prior planning and then pass it on after putting their own spin on it! Expect the unexpected! :)  You can check our vmhq campfire tale tag for all of the previous installments or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Part 26 is written by @ghostcat3000  

[Part 25]

Neptune is not a large town. A person could drive around and hit all the important corners in a little over an hour. They wouldn’t even need to speed. On one side, the ocean and the bended pines, the glassy, silvery wide half moon of a cove, surfers bobbing out to greet the waves, ducking their heads under the spume-curl. The other side—dry canyon brush, curved roads and boxy one-level ranch houses, stuck in some 1980’s decor time warp. To the south, all the poors and college kids living together in what passes for the hood in Neptune; chock full o’ check cashing places and liquor stores, always on the brink of conversion to cold coffee cafes and farm-to-table restaurants. Northside: formerly trailer parks and large undeveloped plots, now home to several boutique farms and wineries.

Most of them are closed now, all those grapes drying on the vine. Only one still in operation; the Van Vliet Winery. Running, not on grapes and weddings, but promise. The promise of power, the chance to get finally end up on top and win. Miles from Neptune’s center but seemingly a world away—no lights, no reception, only darkness and an occasional ribbon of warm wind—the epicenter of the revolution.

“Yo, Rubster. You have a great ass but HOLY SHIT, do you talk a lot.”

Ruby sighs and spins around, her long arms hanging loose at her sides. “Point is, we are out in the middle of fucking nowheresville. Our phones don’t work. We’re completely cut off from civilization. The pink zombie apocalypse could be happening, like, right now, and there’d be no way for us to know.”

“In the vineyard, no one can hear you thcream,” Sean lisps, then coughs, spitting down into the dry dirt beneath them. Somewhere between here and the tunnels, he appears to have lost another tooth. He brings up his hands to his face and rubs his nose with his palms; a frantic up and down scratch.

Dick flicks the back of Sean’s head with his free, non-gun-carrying hand. “No one asked for your input, douchecanoe. We're the ones with the firepower. Your job is to lead us to the girl and hope you get a plea deal.”

“What are we going to do when we find Katie? We can’t call for help and who knows when Logan will be back.” Ruby spins and stops, holding her cell phone at different angles. “Seriously what is the deal with the reception?” She casts a withering glance at Sean. “You realize this means you can’t call anybody either? You are not good at being bad guys.”

Sean shrugs. “The thell phone tower died. About three monthth ago. The community took the Van Vliets to court. Apparently, it wath never thupposed to be there tho it never got reactivated or whatever. We uthe the landlineth.” He tightens his lips together and looks away.

“Cell phone tower?” Ruby frowns.

Sean jerks his head forward, sighing with something like relief. “We’re headed right for it.”

Dick peers into the darkness. “That’s a tree, dude.”

“No. It’th not. It’th a thell phone tower dethigned to look like part of the foliage. It died. We don’t know why.” He rubs his nose again.

Ruby takes out a pair of binoculars from her Veronica bag. She peers through them, the wrong way around. “Is Katie near the cell tower?”

Sean doesn’t answer, keeps trudging along, rubbing his nose. Dick shoves him.

“Hey, numbnuts. Talk.”

“Yeth.”

Ruby lurches alongside Sean. She’s taller than he is, so the effect is predatory but also comical. “You had her here the whole time? Why?”

“Yeah, dude. Why run the risk of having her be found by the people you’re hiding her from? Where's the foresight?” Ruby and Sean stop walking near-simultaneously, turning slowly towards Dick.

“Hey,” Ruby says, stretching the vowels like a rubber band, approaching Dick. “You feeling okay?”

“Totes McGoats. But seriously, so much of this whole super soldier plan doesn’t make sense. You’re a sleazoid drug dealer-” “Video director,” Sean hisses.

“Sleazoid drug dealin’ video director. Who is more likely to be snorting the merchandise than selling it amirite?” Dick sniffs for effect.

“He’s got a point.”

“I’ve been clean for two months.” Sean pauses. “Okay, one.” He resumes the violent nose scratching.

Dick puts the gun down at his feet, digs around his front jean pocket, pulls out his weed and papers, and quickly rolls up with an exacting efficiency. He lights the joint and takes a deep drag, pausing to look at his fingers, smell them and shrug. “None of this adds up. You’re a joke, bro. You know who else is a joke? Your pharmacist. Mad Scientist Barbie creating super soldiers by day and clubbing with the rest of the ‘09ers at night? Her brother? Pass. Liam Fitzpatrick? As a recruiter? According to Logan, that guy is a psychopath who can barely run a mob, much less a globetrotting merc-creation operation.” He pauses to laugh. “That rhymed. Boss.”

He licks his teeth and takes another hit, “The whole using the near-abandoned winery as a base of operations is solid. I’ll give you that. This place is isolated as fuck and if anyone stumbles over here by accident, they’d be easy to contain. Throw ‘em in the tunnels. Wait. Are there..whatchamacallit...floor plans for the tunnels? There's gotta be a bigger section we missed.”

“Floor planth?” Sean’s eyes trained on the gun at Dick’s feet.

“Yeah, like a room where, if this wasn't a weird ass Bond-meets-Living-Dead movie type of winery, but like a romantic comedy with Ryan Reynolds as me and I’m at a wedding and I found the perfect underground room full of wine barrels to bang the bridesmaid played by the hot Swedish chick in Mr. Robot.” Dick pauses to do some pelvic thrusts and mimed ass slaps. He stops and points at Sean. “Blueprints. That's the word. How much you wanna bet we find a whole room of pink goo coffins up in that bitch? Whaaaat.”

Ruby motions to the joint burning between Dick’s pinkish fingers, “Can I have some of that? Keep talking.”

He passes the joint to Ruby. She takes a hit and nods. He returns her nod with a slower nod.

“This operation is half genius and half muy ‘est-too-pih-toe’. The parts don't match. Taking a little girl as a hostage. That does sound like a mob thing. Intimidation and whatnot. Is it long-term though?” Dick squints and grimaces. “Not really. But keeping her here, keeping her close? Knowing exactly where to hold her so that she’s not easily found? By the people providing you with the goods? I don’t know, bro. That’s next level.”

“It wath my idea,” Sean says smugly.

“Sounds fake but okay. The Irish mobster? Chhhyeah, again I'm gonna say no to that too. I can see House of Pain getting into guns to go with his drugs but soldiers? It's too… ambitious.”

“This isn’t working on me like it is on you,” Ruby says, still nodding but returning the joint back to Dick, whose narrowed eyes are nearly shut from the exertion of his thoughts. “Why Nice Guys?”

“Why Nice Guys? Dude, that's one of the parts I don’t get. They won’t be loyal, like all good soldiers need to be, all they want is revenge. But what would Fitzpatrick know about that? I think what really happened is Toothless and his pals decided to…what do you call it when you try to make stuff cooler?”

He snaps his fingers and Ruby jumps up.

“Ooh. Innovate?”

“Yeah. That. Like I said, not smart. Know your workforce.”

Sean sighs. “I read Flowerth for Algernon. It doethnt end well.”

“Whatevs, nerd. There’s got to be better options. Like cops. Neptune’s got plenty. Or actual soldiers maybe. Like Logan. You just gotta get ‘em all here at once. Dump the goop on them and BOOM, army, yo.”

“Dick.” Ruby says, her eyes going wide.

“Whoa. This is some good shit, right. I feel like, smart.”

“Can I be high too?”

“Shut it, Sean. Unless you can explain everything this-” Ruby bats her eyes at Dick. “...wise man is saying, you’re not allowed to speak.”

She takes the joint back from his outstretched hand and blows the smoke back in his face. “And what about this terrorism stuff happening in San Diego? Are they stealing cops?”

“Maybe it’s the mercs.”

“Maybe. Oh shit. Delayed reaction.” Dick turns to Sean in a slow heel-swivel. “He said community. The community sued the Van Vliets. What community? There’s no community for miles.”

Sean has been shuffling away from them, backwards, in the direction of the dead cell phone tower.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ruby barks.

“My new tooth thtub is quite sharp.” Sean holds his hands up, they are free of tape. “And you're not going to shoot that gun and draw unnecessary attention to yourself. See you later, moronth.”

He runs for less than a minute. No more, no less, twenty seconds of scurrying and poof. Like a climactic comic book panel, he drops out of sight. Dick doesn't even have enough time to pick up the gun.

“What the fuck.”

Sean’s scream is high, hysterical and also, muted, dampened. Ruby and Dick hesitantly approach the sound.

“The ground ate him.”

Dick gulps. “Are we in a horror movie now?” Absentmindedly, he pinches the ends of his joint, puts it in his front pocket, and picks up the gun.

The closer they get to Sean’s screams the more they see that the part of the road they thought was road was not. It’s a hole, leaves surrounding the edge of the drop. At the bottom, sits Sean, his leg twisted underneath him in a backwards L-shape. His screams are thinning out, turning to whimpers. Next to him is a man, eyes wide and surprised, a sharpened pole going through his neck like a kebab.

“That sucks,” Dick intones.

“Yeah,” Ruby breathes out, a hand at her throat.

“Get me the fuck out of heeeeere!”

Dick leans down to look into the pit. It’s not as deep as he’d previously thought, maybe ten feet. There are roots sticking out of the edges, like little grasping fingers, useless to someone falling in; nothing to stop the descent or hold on to. At the bottom of the pit there is a single line of stakes. Sean managed to miss it when he landed. The other man, not as lucky.

“It’s like those things that cops lay out in the road to blow out tires.” Ruby kneels down alongside him.

“Oh yeah, but like huge.”

“It's kind of cool.”

“What the fuck! There’s a dead body in here. I know this guy. GET ME OUT.”

Ruby takes out a pair of eyeglasses from her bag and puts them on. She peers down into the pit. “I don’t see a ladder. Do you, Dick?”

“Nope.”

“COME ON.”

“Sorry, Stubby. We can’t get down there.”

Sean’s whimpers become sobs. Ruby digs into her bag and pulls out a small pack of kleenex, she throws it in. “I guess since you didn’t know about the Death Pit, you’re less in the know than you thought.”

“What she said.”

Ruby shoots Dick a baleful look. “Sean. We can’t get you out right now. But you need to keep your part of the bargain. Tell us where Katie is so we can go get her. Once we do that, we’ll come back with help. Okay?”

A small, broken little yes rises up. Ruby straightens up and dusts her hands. “Where are we going?”

“Thraight ahead. To the thell phone tower. Thereth a thmall cabin behind it, hidden in the pineth.”

“Thank you, Sean. I promise, we will come back.”

Ruby takes Dick’s arm and they walk around the pit. Dick leans in and whispers in her ear. “We’re not though, right?”

“Ugh, you smell like pee.”

Dick does his best Blue Steel. “Are you negging me right now? ‘Cause it’s working, babe.”

Without discussing it, they start walking by the side of the road. Shoulder to shoulder, tight and quiet. Before long, Sean’s whimpers can barely be heard; ahead of them, where the taller trees give way to a small clearing, there’s the faint sound of music. Dick points the gun in front of them, completely focused.

“I wish I had a gun too,” Ruby murmurs.

“I wish I had a crossbow. And a red turtle shell.”

Ruby shushes him, but holds his free hand tight enough to hurt. They arrive.

Up close, the disguised cell phone tower looks less like a pine tree and more like an enormous mascara brush. At the top of the tower, jutting out from the fake greenery are the metal arms, useless and rusted. A tiny white cement house sits at the base of the cell tower, a squat square behind a locked fence.

Dick tests the strength of the fence. “Should we bust in?”

“No, we need to find the house where they’re keeping Katie.”

The music they’d heard from the path comes from behind the trees. As they get closer, the melody becomes recognizable.Tell it to my heart, tell me I’m the only one, is it really love or just a game? a woman moans, with the urgency of a UTI at Sunday brunch.

“That is not cool.” Ruby whispers and straightens the set of her shoulders, as if preparing to charge, walking towards the trees and the darker darkness beyond them.

The cabin is painted in shades of muted browns and grays, and seeing it, head on, it looks tiny. It isn’t until they’re right up to it, that they realize that as narrow as it is in the front, it goes deep. It’s mostly dark, except for the windows which glow dimly behind red curtains. There's a pick-up truck parked there, the tire tracks in the mud behind it showing a large curving last minute turn.

The song ends. A few moments later, it starts again. Dick and Ruby nod at each other and approach the front, silent and fast. Dick gets there first and when he puts his hand on the handle of the screen door, he turns to Ruby and holds up his hand. Stop. She doesn’t. When he steps inside, she goes right after.

The walls are wood paneled and the floors are hardwood as well. Bob Ross-style paintings hang on the wall and an incongruously cheery beige-and-brown plaid couch facing the door, a red velvet pillow stitched with the words Shattered Dreams. Across from the couch, a TV set to a Spotify playlist with only one song, Tell It To My Heart blares. Free from the outside vista, the volume is even more unnerving.

Dick goes over to the television and picks up a remote, looks at the buttons, then points it at the screen. Ruby rushes over, “Don’t-”

He clicks it off. “What?”

A telephone rings out shrilly. Dick shoots into the floor and both of them jerk into high-pitched screams, the sound dying in their throats at the next ring. And the one after that.

“Should we answer it?” Ruby asks, throat dry.

“Fuck no.”

A fourth ring.

“Or maybe yes. Man. I’m too high for this shit.”

“Me too. Give me the gun.”

He hands it to her. Five rings, six, seven. They follow the sound of ringing to a console table in the hallway. It’s got a lime green rotary phone on it; cheerful and strange and utterly terrifying. The ringing stops. Dick picks it up anyway. Even a few steps away, Ruby hears the dial tone. And three soft knocks.

“Whoa, did you hear that?” Dick knocks three times on the receiver. “Hello?”

“No, Dick. It’s coming from down there.” Ruby rushes down the hallway and Dick follows behind. There’s three little knocks again, coming from the last door on the left.

“Whoever you are,” Ruby’s voice pitches a little higher. “Name yourself. We're armed. And dangerous!”

“Yeah, we know kung fu, sucker!” Dick chops at the air with his hands and kicks out.

“Stop it, you buffoon.”

A soft voice, as soft of those knocks says, “Ruby?”

“Katie?! Sweetie? Are you okay?”

“The door is locked. I can’t get out.”

Ruby bends her head and peers at the padlock.

“Hold on, honey. Auntie Ruby will be right back.” She turns to Dick, hands him the gun, saying “Stay here. Put the thing on that keeps it from shooting. Keep her calm,” before rushing down the hall, bag jingling.

Dick slips the gun in his waistband and leans in to speak through the door. “Hey there. What’s up?”

“Hi. Who are you?”

“I’m Dick. Uh, Ruby’s friend.”

“I’m Katie.”

“You okay in there?”

“I’m a little hungry.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we can get a burger or something after this?”

“Okay.”

Ruby returns with a little straw and a hammer. She hands Dick the hammer.

“Step aside.”

She removes a can of air from her purse, shakes it furiously and sticks the straw in. Angling the straw into the lock, she sprays until she drops the can. Using the hem of her t-shirt, she picks it up and sprays some more until the lock goes from silvery to white. Ruby grabs the hammer from Dick and brings it up high and down hard, just once, on the frozen lock, which splits in two pieces and onto the floor.

“Look at you, Rubster McGruber!”

They high five.

“Veronica Mars isn’t the only one with skills,” she drawls, flipping her hair.

With a flourish, fingers spread like a spider, Ruby pushes the door open. Inside, in an old fashioned wheelchair that leans slightly to one side, sits a young girl with long, wavy blonde hair, big brown eyes and a tiny, pointed chin. Ruby bends down and hugs her fiercely.

“How long have you been in here?”

“I don't know. Usually they let me move around the house. But this morning, Andy wheeled me in and said I had to stay here all day. Then that song kept playing and it was horrible.”

“I know, that song gives me nightmares. There's always someone murdering it at Karaoke and not in a good way. Who’s Andy?”

“The man that brings me my food. There's a lady too, Julie. She helped me with bathroom stuff.”

“Gross.”

Ruby kicks Dick in the shin.

Down the hall the phone rings again. They stop and listen, barely breathing. It rings six times, and stops. Dick puckers his lips into a silent, extended no which transforms into a wide grin.

“Hey, I’m remembering that this place sucks and we need to get out of here, pronto.”

“Yeah, let’s. We should use that nightmare phone to call the cops.”

“You can't,” Katie says. “You need a code to dial out.”

“Of course there is. Honey, can this wheelchair get you to the front door?”

“No. They took away my real chair.”

“I see. I’m going to carry you out then. Dick, hold my purse. We’re gonna hotwire that car outside and save this little girl.”

“You got it, hot stuff. You sure you can handle it?”

“I'm stronger than I look. Let's go.”

They speed through the house, Dick leading the way, Ruby close behind with Katie in her arms, and go out the back, through a small kitchen that smells strongly of paint.

It’s cooler outside and when Dick opens the driver’s side door, a very pink Liam Fitzpatrick tumbles out right out onto the ground, eyes open and dried froth around his mouth, dead-as-a-doornail dead.

“Holy shit!”

“Holy shit!” Ruby repeats after Dick, then looks at Katie. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, dad says that all the time.”

“Cool. Cool. Dick, open the passenger side door. Quickly. Katie, sweetie, don’t look at the corpse. At least I think it’s a corpse.”

“It is.” Dick kicks Liam’s body. “Ouch.”

Ruby places the girl into the car, Katie uses her arms to shift to middle of the front seat.

“Dick, check his pockets for car keys. And grab his wallet too. There might be something important in there. Clues and whatnot.”

“Do I have to?” He throws Ruby’s purse next to Katie.

“What?” Ruby says, clicking Katie’s seatbelt in place.

“I said, you have guns, lady. What do you do to stay in shape?”

“Boxing and modern dance.”

Liam Fitzpatrick looks different than his picture in the paper. His hair graying at the temple and while generally trim, the skin on his face sags at the jawline like a bulldog. A pink-hued bulldog, bloated and shockingly bright. One hand clutches the air, a claw, the other is pressed tight in a fist. Near the knuckle, there’s a tiny bit of metal. Dick swallows the nerves and unpeels Fitzpatrick’s swollen fingers back like a gross banana. In the center of his palm are the car keys.

Inside the house, the phone starts ringing again. Staring at Fitzpatrick’s lifeless eyes, Dick sees his own reflection and with every ring, feels less and less like himself. Like he’s disappearing into the sound of the ringtone.

“Did you find them?” Ruby stands next to him, hands at her waist. She blows her hair out of her face and widen her eyes meaningfully.

Dick dangles the keys up to the light.

Inside the house, the phone stops ringing, after five rings this time.

“Is this a countdown?” Ruby swallows. “Don't forget his wallet.”

A phone chimes, closer at hand. A cell phone.

“Dick. Your phone is ringing. Answer your phone. Dick?!”

“What?”

He throws Liam’s wallet at her.

“Your phone!”

He pats his pockets and pulls out his iPhone. The screen reads Unknown Number. Dick hits answer call and locks eyes with Ruby who holds her clasped hands to her mouth.

“Hello?”

“Hi. Uh, is this Dick?”

“Uhyeeees.” Dick nods at Ruby, who nods back, and pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

“Hi, um, I’m Detective Leo D’Amato. We haven’t met.”

“I know you. You’re the dude Veronica was working for. You can’t intimidate me, dude. I know my rights and also that you’re EVIL.”

“What? No. Listen, I’m in the hospital. My partner, Wei Breitski, shot me and left me for dead. I have reason to believe that he’s either running or helping to run some kind of drug operation out of Neptune. Is Veronica okay? Do you know where she is?”

“Yeah, she left with your dirty partner to go find the antidote for the pink goo for Wallace?”

“What? I’ve been trying to call her. I need to speak to her. This is very important. She has to-”

“Wait. How do I know you’re not playing us?”

“Yeah!” Ruby yells.

“Who’s that?”

“Ruby.”

The phone cuts off abruptly. A moment later it rings again. A facetime call.

Dick accepts and Det. D’Amato’s face fills the screen. Half of his face is swollen and he’s got bruises around his eyes, like a panda mask. He’s wearing a hospital gown and is lit in the sad, sallowing way of hospitals.

“You look like shit, bro.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

“How did you have my number?”

“Veronica gave me a list of contact numbers, you were on it.”

“Aaaaw, Ron Ron.”

“Barf.”

“What did you say?”

“Barf. Veronica told me to say that in case you called her Ronnie, Ron Rons or Ronniekin.”

“Bitch knows me. What can I say?”

“Charming.”

“Was that Ron’s too?”

“No, that was me. Look, you don’t have much time. The so-called street uprisings I was told to investigate turned out to be bogus. Falsely reported incidents meant to distract us from the real problem. The-”

Leo’s face freezes.

“Dude, I can’t hear you? See you?”

“-You have to tell Veronica-” Leo cuts out and back in again. “The soldiers will get a modified formula, a refinement to make them dumber, more compliant, less likely to question things.”

“WHOA, I have a solid plan for that. I got this super weed and I’m going to smoke them all up and make them smart again.” The screen freezes on Detective D’Amato’s look of open-mouthed confusion. It unfreezes. “Okay, you do that. I’m going to call in my boys in San Diego and also the couple of guys at the Neptune PD who aren’t-” D’Amato freezes again. “Get as far from that winery as possible. Don’t let-” Freeze. “Pink.” Freeze. “Touch-” Freeze. “Got that?”

“Like almost none of it, dude.”

“Great.”

Ruby snatches the phone from Dick. “Hey, you. I’m Ruby. Give me proof that you’re one of the good guys. How do we know you’re in a real hospital, even? You could be lying.”

D’Amato does a reverse shot and gives them a shot of his hospital room.

“Not good enough. Show me your ass.” “Excuse me?” The phone returns back to his face in time to catch a raised eyebrow.

“Your ass. Show it. If you’re really in a hospital, you’ll be commando under there.”

“Like me!” Dick offers.

“Fine.”

Leo jostles out of frame and there, frozen on the screen, a pale ass cheek.

The Face Time call drops.

“Fuuuuc-I mean-udge,” Ruby looks over her shoulder at Katie. “The battery on my phone crapped out. Can you call anybody?”

Dick goes through his phone list. Logan, Veronica, everybody—nobody picks up.

“Okay. Veronica’s cop friend’s partner is evil. We knew that. She might be dead. I have to save the world.”

“No. Logan is with Veronica. He’ll protect her with his life. Oh no.”

“Oh no.”

“He’ll protect her with his life!” They shout simultaneously and run to the pick-up truck.

They drive back towards the barn by following the tire tracks out to the main road in silence. When the main buildings of the winery become visible, they kill the lights and go off road, wobbling slowly in the dark towards the barn.

“What are we going to do?” Katie asks.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. But Dick might drive you into town. I have to stay.”

“Fuck that! You need to go. I’ll stay.”

“Dick! Language.”

The door to the pick-up truck opens suddenly. Before any of them can scream, the wide-eyed blonde puts a fingers to their lips.

“Shhhh. I think I lost him but he’s insanely fast.”

“Daddy?”

Rooks takes off the wig and leans over Ruby to hug Katie tight. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Where were you? I was so worried.”

“I’m okay, Daddy. There’s bad stuff happening.”

Dick glances at Ruby over their heads. She rolls her eyes and shrugs, in a what-can-you-do? sort of way, then grabs the fabric of Rook’s shirt and shakes him to attention.

“Rooks.” Ruby whispers. “We’re going to give you the car keys. You have to get Katie out of here. Dick and I need to stay and kick ass. You got it? You and I will never be okay, you know why, but go, take care of your daughter. Don’t fuck this up. Also, you owe me a leather jacket.”

“Oh man, you don’t want it. That monster... grabbed it and uh, got intimate. I left him with it, used the moment to get away.” Rooks dries his eyes. “Wait. What? What’s going on?”

“You have to go, guy. NOW. And, uh, gimme that.” Dick grabs the wig from Rooks. “I might need it.”

“Katie, sweetie, you think you can tell your dad how to get back the way we came?”

“Yes.”

Ruby hugs her and Katie, softly says, “Thank you.”

“You got it, kid.”

They watch them drive off in the dark.

“You know what’s weird.” Dick says, stroking the blonde wig in his arms as if it was a Persian cat.

“What?”

“All these people, all these freaks, you, Logan, Rooks, Sean… They’re are all connected to Carrie in some way.”

“You think I’m a freak?” Ruby’s big eyes catch all the moonlight.

“Oh, I know you’re a freak.” Dick shimmies around her, grinding and whisper-singing UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ.

She doesn’t move at all, her arms folded tight across her chest.

“In high school, you used to say I smelled like wet bathing suit.”

Dick laughs. Ruby doesn’t. He stops.

“You said I would die alone in a dress made of banana peels.”

“What? Dude.”

Dick kicks at a patch on the ground.

“I was an asshole and didn’t know shit. Okay? I paid for it. Believe me. I’m sorry.”

They walk towards the barn. In the distance, there’s a howl. The Pizmonster can’t be too far behind.

“Okay. We have a gun and a hammer and we are super fucking smart.”

“Fuck yeah. So what do we do?”

Ruby swats at a buzzing insect near her ear. “We look for those landlines, plural, that Sean mentioned. I know they said that all the wires were cut but they're all, like total liars, so there has to be another one like back at the cabin. Maybe in another one of the buildings?”

“Right.” “And we keep an eye out for Logan. Protect him.”

Dick nods. “You’re a cool chick, Rubster. But I got to tell you, Logan will never quit V-Mars. She’s his… heart.”

Ruby breathes in. “I know. But I have my part to play. ‘It is a far, far better thing that I do’ and all that jaaaaaazz.”

“Yeah. Man, I’m hot. Are you hot?”

“No.”

Dick holds his hand up, the nerve endings on his fingertips are dancing with electricity.

“Hey, Dick. Look, isn’t that Veronica’s dad’s car?” They move towards the car in a low-to-the-ground undercover crouch and peer in the window—there’s nobody inside. There is no sign of anyone around, no footsteps or voices. Only wind.

“There’s a note.”

On the dashboard, in left-slanted all-caps letters—I HAVE YOUR FATHER, MS. MARS.  DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID.

Want to find out what happens next? Check back next Saturday for the next installment written by…  @cheshirecatstrut  Tag, you’re it! Make sure to submit your segment to [email protected] by Wednesday, November 1st.

#veronica mars #vm fanfic #vmhq round robin #vmhq campfire tale

[sleepyskele]

Little thing for @theslowesthnery, because their gangster skeletons look so adorable and amazing and all their headcanons make me so happy <3 And they are amazing and I just wanted to give something back to them, cause I enjoy everything they make so much \0/ <3

(There is a read more. If your on mobile, please click onto my blog name. You will get redirected to it, and the thing is there without the readmore. I tested it, it should work. Sorry for the inconvinience)

Heist went wrong

Words: 1727

Well, that went...terribly. It was just a regular heist, in, get the stuff and back out. Undyne distracted the guards with some fists to their face, the fighting attracting more of the gang members from the inside of the warehouse the goods were stored in. Papyrus positioned himself a bit away, in the getaway car, hidden in the shadows of some rundown building.

Sans was supposed to sneak in, grab what they needed and get out again, meeting Undyne and Papyrus in the car. But things never go as how they are supposed to go. Sometimes even worser then on could expect.

Sans was lying on the cold floor, gagged and bound, having endured a throughout beating. 

It went alright at first, Undyne lured almost all outside, knocking them over like potatosacks and Sans had no problem teleporting inside, sneaking trough the shadows until he located the crates he was supposed to get. Looking around carefully until the air was clear he waited hidden behind some barrels, some filled with trash, others closed and containing various liquids. 

He crept into the open, unnoticed by the few man still inside. Almost reached the crates. He just had to grab them and teleport out again, no big deal, it wasn't his first heist after all. And then things went wrong. He felt a sharp pain on the left side of his head, feels his eye socket fracture, and then nothing. One of the man saw him, attracted by the faint light from the teleport, following Sans trough the warehouse until he found out what the small skeleton was doing there. Then he knocked him out.

Sans came to his senses, unable to move, his left, magical eye not working. Shit. No magic was bad. He couldn't get out of here like that...wherever he was. He tried sitting up, a splitting headache stopping that attempt before he could even really try. Well, no need to panic, not the first time he got captured like that. And not the first time he had to get himself out of situations like this. He managed to somehow sit up scooting against on of the walls and propping himself up, it would just be nice if his skull could stop splitting itself in half. “well...no time for skullking..hehe”, he chuckled slightly, looking up startled when somebody else joined into the laughter, a deep, unfriendly chuckling filling the room.

“Well, look who's awake. Thought you can steal our shit and then just sleep here like it's some kind of hotel?”, the man stepped from the shadows, quick steps towards Sans, grabbing the skeleton by his collar and yanking him up to eye level. He snarls into his face,”Guess somebody has to teach you a lesson. Stealing is bad after all, don't want you to go down the wrong path.” The man chuckled, throwing him onto the floor, Sans hitting the concrete hard, feeling his ribs fracture and crack. The man smirked darkly. “man, your cracking me up here”, Sans mumbled from the floor, disoriented from the pain and still very prominent headache. The guys smile fell, “Ohhh...you think you can get cocky with me?!”

He kicked Sans into his ribcage, breaking some of the cracked ribs completely, goey magic and marrow leaking trough his already dirt stained shirt, holding the broken pieces barely together. Sans coughed, clutching his chest, gasping for air, marrow dripping from his mouth. The guy gave him one last kick, stepping away fuming, growling something under his breath. Sans rolled onto his back, gasping for breath, chest burning. “don-...don't worry bud...don't have the guts for th-...that”, he rasped out, smirking to himself. Still got it. The man growled in frustration, stepping back to Sans, unbinding one of his arms and stomping onto the it, breaking it with a crunch. 

Sans screamed out, his vision turning bright white and then dark, black dots dancing infront of his one working eyelight.

The guy laughed, cruel and without humor, Sans cradling his broken arm to his chest, barely able to suppress his whimpers of pain, tears gathering in his eyesockets. “Now where is that confidence of you? Don't want to sputter some other stupid pun?” Sans shut his eyes, trying to ignore the pain flaring in almost every part of his body, and to catch his breath, his mouth locked shut. He didn't wanted to give that guy the satisfaction of hearing him whimper or scream more. The guy seemed to get bored with toying with him, grabbing Sans by his neck and lifting him up close to his face.

“So....now that we got the formalities behind us, how 'bout you tell me something 'bout your friends...I know there were more of you then just you cunt.” Sans head was swimming, barely able to breath, grabbing the guys arm with his unharmed hand, the other hanging down limply, shooting pain all trough his arm and up to his neck, his ribs aching from being in that position. He was on the brink of consciousness when suddenly the door flew open, Papyrus, eyes ablaze, a bony, bloodstained club in his hand. Papyrus spotted his brother in the hands of the guy, throwing himself onto him without a sound, faster then anybody has every seen him move before, and that says something, knocking him out with more force then would have been necessary before he even had a chance to notice the taller skeletons presence.

Sans fell to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath, making a forced, chocked sound, unable to actually scream. Papyrus threw himself onto his knees next to him, scooting closer, cradling him in his arms “BROTHER! SANS! CAN YOU HEAR ME!?”, his voice was wavering, worry clear as day. Sans looked at him with one unfocused eyelight, a large crack splitting his other eyesocket, marrow dripping from his mouth. “h-..hey bro...”, he rasped out, making Papyrus hold him even closer to himself. Loud stomping announced Undyne, who burst in trough the broken down door, brass knuckles at the ready, followed by a mildly annoyed Toriel, holding her small pistol in one hand. Undyne threw a glance at the two skeletons, soul contracting in sympathy, before going over to the windows, checking if anybody was coming near the building, if they called for backup, then positioning herself near the door as a guard.

Toriel rushed over the instant she saw what condition Sans was in, hands already glowing with green healing magic. She puts her gun back into her purse and softly unwraps Papyrus from around his brother, just enough to patch him up a bit. The broken bones will take longer to heal, but at least she could stop the marrow and magic from leaking out, soothing the pain and healing a few of the smaller bruises. Sans face relaxed, he now completely loosing consciousness, seeing as how he is finally in good hands. Toriel stroked his skull fondly, sighing relieved. She rubbed Papyrus shoulder, comforting the still distraught skeleton, “It is alright Papyrus, I will just have to bandage the breaks at home, but he isn't in any danger.” Papyrus shoulders sagged, tension leaving his body as he wrapped tighter around his brother again.

Toriel got up from her crouch, looking at the two skeletons, glad they managed to find Sans that fast. If they didn't have the dogs to track his smell, who knew what would have....A sound from the the floor close to the wall ripped her from her thoughts. She looked down to see the guy from earlier regaining consciousness, looking at him with so much disgust, both Undyne and Papyrus feelt a cold shiver run down their spine. Toriel ushered the skeletons out to the car, and turns to the man who was looking up at her with fear, trying to get up to his feet.

Toriels got her small pistol out of the purse, aiming it directly at the mans face. She killed him quick and clean, a cold look on her face Undyne has never seen before. “Nobody hurts my boys”, Toriel whispered, turning around and leaving without another word. Undyne tracked after her, still perplexed by what she just witnessed.

They sat in the car, the space slightly cramped in the small, kind of beaten up sportscar. Undyne was driving, Papyrus on the backseat, still holding Sans who shortly regained consciousness, only to falls asleep after making sure everybody else was save and unhurt. Papyrus was stroking his brothers skull, looking out of the window, a somber look on his face. Toriel was riding shotgun, throwing slightly worried glances at the two skeletons in the backseat. Undyne dropped them off at the bonebros apartment, Toriel thanked her warmly. She was like a mother to all of them, even in times like this, squeezing Undynes shoulder softly, telling her she will inform her about how everything will go before following Papyrus upstairs.

Papyrus relucantly let go of his brother, laying him down onto the lower bunk of the bunkbed they both shared. Toriel gave a brief hug to Papyrus, shooing him out of the bedroom before getting to work. She bandages his arm and ribs, wrapping the gauze around some healing paste she always has in her purse for incidents like this. She was just done bandaging his fractured eyesocket, cleaning the marrow and magic from his bones, when Sans woke up. “hey tori, wassup?”, he cracked up his one unbandaged eyesocket, looking at her, trying to sit up. Toriel pushed him back down gently, “You are not getting up right now, you bonehead.” Sans snorted slightly at that, a low chuckles escaping his theet, lying back down, wincing in pain at his ribs twinging uncomfortably.

Toriel gave him an affectionated pat on the shoulder, telling him to stay in bed for the next few days so his ribs could heal properly and left to inform Papyrus. Sans stretched out carefully, looking at the lower side of the top bunk. Well, at least he gets to lazy around for a bit. He sighed, swinging his feet out o the bed, getting up and walking over to the window, opening it. He rummaged trough his pockets, fishing out some a lighter and some cigarettes, plopping it between his teeth and lighting it. He really needed a smoke after all that. Looking out the window he let’s the smoke curl from his mouth onto the street outside.

“SANS? ARE YOU SMOKING?”

“woops..”

#Mobtale #Undertale #Sans #Papyrus #Toriel #Undyne #gangster au