#//world-building slap-patch-job on the spot!!

[entropyvoid]

Starfall Chapter 3

Genre: Sci-fi/science fantasy Words: 11329 Synopsis: It’s the year 2420. A cargo vessel from Diana and a pirate ship from Ganymede collide, and both go crashing down into the off-limits and out-of-control terraformed Martian wilderness while on the way to the Martian capital of Elysia. Everyone must work together to survive the infamous death world and get back to civilization - though, does civilization want them back?

Summer evenings were hot in southeast Asia, despite the rain, which didn’t seem to actually cool anything off. If anything, it only made it muggier. Perhaps Hibiki’s ratty seafoam green faux fur jacket was a mistake in this weather, but, well, she’d decorated with it some of her favorite seashells and a handmade back patch only recently, and damn if she wasn’t gonna proudly parade around in it. At least, that’s what the twenty year old mercenary had told herself this morning. Hell, the only reason she’d had the sense to wear short shorts and a pastel bikini top wasn’t because it was hot, it was because it went well with her new- or, well, newly decorated jacket. She wished she could go back in time and slap her morning self. So young. So naïve. So ignorant of just how not acclimated she was to the weather.

She was grateful to finally find herself at the storehouse where she was supposed to meet her newest client. Having been all but abandoned, there was no need to keep the rather powerful industrial AC running, but at least there would be shade. She scaled a mess of crates and dropped in through a broken window, careful to avoid the jagged blades of glass sticking out of the trim, and lugging along her favorite weapon - a baseball bat she’d painted pastel pink and covered in barbed wire. It was also not the most practical thing, but it held some sentimental value, and she’d decorated it herself. Besides, it did its job well enough, and Hibiki would readily admit to being the type of person to sacrifice some utility for her own aesthetics. The pink paint was starting to chip though, and dried blood had stained it and covered some of the glitter. She’d have to touch it up soon.

Even hotter, and muggier air hit her the second she entered the storehouse, crashing into her like a wave of pure disappointment. She lumbered down even more old crates til she was closer to the ground, and, with a sigh, finally caved in and took off her jacket. If she didn’t, heat stroke would probably get to her before her client did. One thing she at least did have the sense to bring, was a thermos of cool water. She made herself comfortable upon one of the boxes, propped her baseball bat up against the wall next to her, and waited.

It wasn’t her client who appeared next, though. More mercenaries slowly filtered in, one by one, practically extracting themselves from cracks in walls or other voids in the space she hadn’t realized were even there. She didn’t know this was going to be some kind of group mission. Hibiki sighed. She absolutely hated these. Don’t get her wrong, it wasn’t like she hated teamwork in and of itself, but a lot of mercenaries thought they were real hotshots, and had trouble listening to each other or cooperating with strangers. She preferred to fly solo because it seemed most of them couldn’t get themselves together, and she’d had a few too many jobs wrecked by total dickwads who refused to listen to a word she said, or had to deal with others treating it like a competition. It was usually best to just avoid other mercenaries. None of them spoke to each other, and all found their own spots in the abandoned warehouse to moodily perch.

A swift kick sent rotten wood flying as the front door flew not only open, but right off its hinges. Every eye in the building turned to what was supposed to be the main entrance of the building as a dark skinned guy with an even worse sense of how to dress for the weather than Hibiki herself strolled in, hands behind his head and a grin on his face, as though he were completely unbothered by the heat. He sported a long leather jacket, with a red fur trimmed collar and metal spikes, black denim jeans stuffed into tall leather boots, and a tattered white shirt. Silver metal coils encased a few of his dreads, which were all pulled into a long ponytail, and a spiked black leather choker and an assortment of animal bones decorated his neck. Upon his shoulder, a large, fluffy, orange and white kitten clung to him. They were larger than the average adult cat, yet still unmistakably a very young kitten. She wondered if they were a dire cat, and  just how big the adults got.

Behind him strode six more people, all with the same silver coils in their hair, but overall wearing much more sensible outfits for the weather. She guessed they were all in the same guild, and the first man’s adherence to his metalhead-esque style no matter the weather was something unique to him. She could respect his commitment to individuality.

“Tau, did you really have to do that?” said one of them, clearly uncomfortable about all the eyes that were now on their little group. Though the words sounded unlike any language she knew, the translator chip that sat under her skin on her temple made sure she understood them perfectly.

“What? It’s abandoned. Literally no one is going to care or even notice if we break it a little.”

She wasn’t sure the decimation that had occurred to the poor door was something she would define as only “a little,” but he kind of had a point. Her climbing in through the window, and however the hell all these other people had slipped in here - was probably an unnecessary amount of effort. She had always thought mercenaries tended to be incredibly weird and extra in the way they went about things a lot of the time. As much as she was amused by the shenanigans of all the other weirdos in her profession, she supposed she was no exception, and this dude certainly wasn’t either.

“Pfft, yeah right, you totally just wanted to be the center of attention.” Said one of the other members of his group. They kept talking amongst themselves, and everyone slowly took their gazes off them and went back to minding their own business.

Eventually, the client showed up: a boring, dreadfully normal looking business man, with all the mannerisms and vocal qualities of a guy who thought he owned the world. She tried her best to pay attention as this dude rolled out what must have been an absolutely ancient 2D projector with a powerpoint presentation on their task, which apparently was some sort of hitman gig on a former business partner. It took all her willpower not to roll her eyes, and with great effort she managed to only do it mentally. Did this idiot not realize that mercenaries and assassins were two different things? There was some overlap, of course, but Hibiki wasn’t really into this type of job, and by the looks on some of these mercenaries' faces, she probably wasn’t the only one. The blood on her bat wasn’t exactly something she’d sought out, after all, it was more like the result of a few emergency situations. After what felt like eons, the idiot businessman finally packed his crap up and left, leaving the mercenaries to slowly filter out. Hell, he hadn’t even left any of them with a chance to ask questions or respond saying they accepted. This guy really didn’t know what he was doing, did he?

“Man, what a waste of time.” She complained aloud, her mouth moving automatically in ways totally unfamiliar to her. Her translation implant had a tendency to switch to the dominant native tongue of all the people within a certain radius - was this the language those guys were speaking earlier? What was it, exactly?

“I know, right?” Said the guy who had kicked down the door earlier - didn’t one of his companions say his name was Tau? “Like, what dumbass tries to hire hitmen off a public mercenary app? At least have the sense to try the deep web or something first.” He pulled the mewling kitten off his shoulder, and cradled them in his arms, whipping a bottle of milk out of his pocket. The kitten began suckling the instant the bottle met their mouth, and it had to have been the cutest sight Hibiki had ever seen. He looked over at her and caught her staring. “You wanna pet her?”

He didn’t have to say another word, she hopped over and began to run her hand through the kitten's soft belly fur. “Does she have a name?”

Tau shook his head. “Not yet, I’ve just kinda been referring to her as my daughter. She’s not old enough for a talk collar yet, and, well, you know how cats and dogs tend to be with names. I could give her one, but she’ll just come up with something she likes better pretty soon anyway.”

True, there wasn’t much point in giving a cat or dog a name - it was commonplace for them to name themselves after their favorite things, which was a large part of why the two most common dog names out there were ‘Good Boy’ and ‘Good Girl.’ She had probably run into at least a good few dozen of each herself.

“Well, she’s adorable either way. Is she a dire cat?”

Tau nodded happily. “Mm-hm! She’s a Siberian Dire Cat, specifically. My guildmaster rescued a litter of them from a fighting ring. He said the mom died, so we sorta split the litter amongst my guild to raise. I can’t wait to see how huge she gets.” The kitten decided she’d had enough, pulling her head away from the bottle. Tau put it back in his pocket and pulled out a washcloth to wipe the mess of milk from her mouth, then put the kitten back on his shoulder, where she sleepily nestled into the red fur of his jacket, avoiding the spikes..

She wondered for a moment, whether such a fluffy little thing was going to be okay in this heat, or what exactly Tau had planned to do taking her on any kind of mercenary job in the first place. She, for one, felt like she was practically dying from the heat. Hibiki considered her next move, whether to end the conversation here and say goodbye, or keep it going. Again, usually she veered away from other mercenaries, but this guy seemed friendly enough. Fuck it. “Hey, wanna go get some ice cream and find some AC? I’m sure your kiddo there would appreciate some cooler air. I’m Hibiki, by the way.”

“Sure! I’m Tau.” He grinned, and turned towards his companions. One who’d been eavesdropping just nodded and shooed him away with a wave of his hand. “Go for it, we’re gonna go report that guy. Have fun, and see you back at the hotel.”

With a final wave, the two new friends wandered off to explore the city.

The crashed pirate ship was about the size of a nice three story house. Though it was perfect, if not downright spacious for five wayward pirates, it was definitely too small for sixteen humans and a couple of cats - one of which was a dire cat - to comfortably reside in. Tengfei had seen more than his fair share of people shoved into the tiniest little spaces together, back before he’d gotten good enough grades to prove himself ‘worthy’ of having nice things like space to himself in his Sol Society days, and he was pretty familiar with how that usually went for the people involved. It would be about three days, he estimated, before many of these people were at each other’s throats if they didn’t build or find some extra shelters. And unfortunately for them, it seemed like they might be here for a good while. Val and Sibyl, their engineer and pilot respectively, had sent out a distress signal from his ship, of course, but would anyone respond to a suspicious, unregistered Gallilean signal all the way out here in the Martian Wilds? His hopes were not high. It was a pleasant surprise that the survivors of the other ship were even willing to approach them in the first place. Though, perhaps he may have to give credit to Tati’s angelic Venusian charm for that one.

The angry blue-haired one seemed to be the only one particularly upset about associating with them - but no one seemed to really like her or listen to her much, so it wasn’t really much of a problem, just an annoyance. She kept coming to him to whine or complain about something or another, insulting him in the process, as if that was going to motivate him to do… whatever it was she wanted him to do. She seemed to be under the impression that he must have been the ship’s captain, and therefore held some strange level of responsibility for the two ships crashing into each other, considering their little ship had effectively T-boned the cargo vessel - or rather, shot through it like an arrow. 

Neither of these things were true, however: for one, the whole point of anyone running away to Ganymede was to escape the oppressive concept of authority, and anyone who went there to try and make themselves captain of anything would get laughed off the planet at best. Of course the Ganymedian crew didn’t have a captain. What a ridiculous thought. Could she possibly be any more ignorant?

The survivors were currently scattered performing various tasks. Building a fire pit, salvaging what they could from the larger ship before its inevitable collapse, trying to forage for food - though no one had been willing to brave the Martian forests quite yet - all that any of them, even - if not especially the Martians in the group themselves - had ever heard about Martian wilderness was horrible things, tall tales of a hostile and unruly world, legends of lethal beasts that humanity even with all its technology could create but not control or conquer. A cautionary monument to all the ways in which bioengineering could go wrong. Not that he was one to start complaining about the dangers of bioengineering - that would be just a tad bit hypocritical of him.

Though, of course, these were nothing more than stories. No one had ventured into the Martian Wilds and come back either alive to tell of it - or, according to what he’d overheard one of the Martian engineers, Phi, mention - allowed by the Elysian government to do so. “In my professional opinion,” he had told Phi, “that speaks less to the dangers of the planet to people, and more to the dangers some sort of secret out there held to the Martian government.”

The green girl, Eliza, he thought her name was, lit up upon overhearing that prospect, excitedly bouncing back and forth and rambling on about how she wanted to be the one to unearth the secrets to this new and exciting conspiracy. The conversation was derailed as she spent the next hours hounding the twins for questions about Mars - some of which made Tengfei wonder if she’d lived her whole life under a rock.

Still, no one knew for certain what they'd find in there.

And no one had stepped up to venture in.

He’d currently been tasked with attempting to find some fire - no one there really knew how to start one, per se, but there were plenty of flaming ship embers all over the place near the other crash site, even after the rain, so he’d been sent out by Hanon to fetch some and bring it back. His mission was successful - well, of course it was, it was probably the simplest one any of them had been given or taken upon themselves. Flaming stick in hand, he paraded back down the beach and into camp, only to be met with the horrid blue haired woman stomping towards him. Again. He groaned internally. 

“Isn’t it suspicious that your ship is fine and ours is completely wrecked? Even though you supposedly hit us full force?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine? There’s no way that thing’s ever flying again. Did I miss something?”

“It’s intact. Ours isn’t. Answer the question,” she growled. 

He rolled his eyes. What did she want from him? He was just a geologist, wasn’t that a question for the engineers? Whatever, he’d take a crack at an answer. “I dunno, probably because ships made to fly anywhere near Jupiter need to be built out of stronger stuff than a ship only made to go back and forth between Mars and Diana?”

“The Galilean moons all had lower gravity than Mars or Diana, last I checked.”

He shrugged. “Jupiter’s harsh. And our ships are still built to withstand its upper atmosphere or break free if we, for some reason, get pulled in.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, glaring at him with unbroken eye contact. He raised one back. If this was her attempt at intimidation, it really wasn’t working. With a huff and a snap turn so quick he could’ve sworn it nearly broke the sound barrier, she stormed off once again.

“Don’t worry about her,” said the other, more chill blue haired woman - Arche, wasn’t it? The captain, or whatever? “She’s been accusing everyone of being the reason we crashed. She’s gone through… let’s see…” she began counting names on her fingers. “Me, Altair, Eliza, whatever conspiracy she had going on in her head about Hibiki and Hanon, you… you know what, I’m gonna bet the engineers are next.”

“I wasn’t worried,” said Tengfei curtly, “but thanks.” The captain girl seemed friendly enough, and hadn’t done much, if anything, to assert her authority as such, but he still had reason to be wary of her. He continued on to the fire pit the others had constructed, tossing in the flames. 

    Right. The engineers. That got him to the second reason the lady was wrong and stupid - Tengfei didn’t feel like giving her the dignity of learning her name, though he knew it would likely happen against his will sooner or later - was because literally every single thing they’d investigated showed zero evidence of human error having been the cause of the problem. The combined group now had four whole engineers at their disposal, two of whom the other ship’s doctor - the pale Venusian guy, apparently - had patched up in the tiny little closet packed with machinery that they collectively referred to as the ‘medical bay,’ a name which severely stretched the definition of the word ‘bay.’ 

The recently comatose one, a teal-haired girl from all the way out on Earth, apparently could not be stopped from getting straight to work no matter what they did to keep her sitting still. After several incidents in which she quietly snuck onto the bridge to rummage around in their computer’s coding and files, Sibyl had volunteered to help her out and make sure she didn’t mess anything up - since they had little clue what state her brain was currently in, and could only really hope that the medical equipment really was functioning as well as it said it was. She wasn’t doing any heavy lifting and would be under supervision, so the doctor had conceded with a sigh of “You know what? Fine.” The other two, the pair of Martian twins, had set out analyzing the data from their own ship. 

    ‘Someone ought to check on them,’ he thought to himself as he strolled towards the little control room full of panels and buttons. Unfortunately, it seemed that Arche had a similar idea, her footsteps awkwardly trailing behind his own, then beside him after a quick jog. ‘And someone ought to euthanize me,’ he added silently. 

    “Soooo,” he rounded the corner and peered into the room, “how goes it?” Arche stepped past him and leaned against the frame of the door. 

    The four engineers were sitting in a circle on the floor, tablets and tools and scribbled upon papers laid out in front of them, with the blaringly hideous orange-instead-of-black blackbox laid in the center as the star of the show. All four looked up from the mess and gawked at him, as if they had all been snapped out of a collective trance. 

    “Do you guys… want me to get you any snacks?” He nervously grabbed his little teal side braid and ran his hand over it, though his confident smile remained. They still had some rations left, thank the stars.

    “We’re conducting a demonic ritual to summon a new ship,” Deimos smiled mischievously, grabbing Phi and Sibyl’s hands from both sides of him. “Would you like to join?”

    Arche grinned and hopped forward. “I’ll join!” Sibyl and Lethe shuffled to the side to make room for her, and Tengfei managed to squeeze in between Deimos and Sibyl. They all clasped each other’s hands in their own. 

    “I’ll admit,” said Deimos quietly, “I didn’t think this bit would go this far, and I kinda have nothing.”

    “Well, you can’t stop now,” said Lethe.

    It was Phi’s turn to take the reins. She began chanting in Latin-like gibberish - she had decided to be a girl today, it seemed, letting her long black hair fall around her face and shoulders and having changed into a red long-sleeved top with shoulder cutouts and a stylish yet practical black high-waisted denim skirt salvaged from the wreckage of her room. As she continued the chant, the already dark lighting of the cold, industrial room grew dimmer and dimmer.

    “We summon thee, ship!” Phi roared. The lights of the ship, in an act so wonderfully and coincidentally dramatic it made him wonder if the vessel had secretly been sentient the entire time, flickered out and left them in darkness.

    They flickered back on a few seconds later, members of the circle looking at each other in bewilderment.

    “I suppose we ought to look into that,” said Sibyl, looking up at the lights. It was not a great time to have a power failure. Granted, no time was a good time to have a power failure on a ship, but that was besides the point.

    “Maybe our ship is jealous,” said Tengfei, patting the floor. “Sorry bud. There’s not much we can do for you.”

    “In all seriousness,” said Sibyl, letting go of the other’s hands, “we’re almost done here. We’ve gathered all the data and we just need to compare it, which shouldn’t take us too terribly long. Would you two mind gathering the others? I’d rather announce our findings to the group.”

    Tengfei and Arche lifted themselves up from the ground with a couple of silent nods. “Call you out at dinner time?” He said, turning to let her go ahead of him this time, and hopefully gain a bit of distance between the two of them. His responses came in the form of a couple of nods and a “Sounds good!” from Deimos, who waved but did not look up, having once again stuck his nose in his work.

    Cooking and baking for five was fun. Most people needed some sort of highly technical skill to worm their way into any given ship’s crew - often even on Ganymedian vessels, where conventional rules needed not always apply. Hanon counted herself as very lucky to be able to see the solar system as a simple chef - particularly as someone born on Ganymede, with no paperwork or bureaucracy to back her existence up and as a result no legal way to get to other worlds. Her little sister had shared the same dream as her, and stowed away off world - though somewhere along the way, it seemed she’d managed to procure some fake documents convincing enough to sell the story that she was from Earth.

    It was not uncommon for Ganymedians to venture out into the world on their own - never to speak to those back home again, not for lack of love, but simply because the other worlds had forced them to navigate the backwaters of society, navigating through black markets and sketchy careers. It was difficult to get a message back home and dangerous for two Ganymedians to be tracking each other off world, lest one get caught and jeopardize the other. When she and her sister parted ways, each to pursue similar dreams, they’d both accepted that they’d never see each other again.

    And yet, here they both were. Of all of the billions of people to crash into each other - a rare occurrence in and of itself - and survive - an occurrence she’d have assumed was even rarer, it was the two of them.

    Neither of them yet dared to touch on the subject.

    She distracted herself from the headache-to-be that was thinking about the infinitesimally small probability of recent events by going about her usual routine - but this time, scaled up massively. Cooking for sixteen humans and two obligate carnivores was not anywhere near as fun as cooking for a small handful, especially with limited space and supplies. She had no idea how to accommodate feline tastes, first of all. And as if their already low food stores weren’t enough of a problem on their own, their struggles were compounded by the fact that hardly anyone here knew how to hunt, cook, or properly forage in these conditions. Not that she could blame them, it was something most modern people had never had to think about, the vast majority of people having access to at least a basic food replicator. She didn’t really have the option to tell them to fend for themselves for the most part, or they’d have all starved to death in about three days.

    “This is the worst.” Hibiki groaned as she chopped vegetables. “Crashing on an alien world? Fine, it seems kinda cool here. Seeing my sister in person for the first time in years? Unexpected, but great! But then you, with full knowledge of all my talents, in your infinite wisdom, have the audacity to put me to work cooking?”

    “Unfortunately, you’re one of the only other people here with even a vague idea of how cooking works.” Hanon sighed. Some things would never change, and it seemed her sister’s hatred of spending any amount of time in a kitchen was amongst them.. 

    “Then why not host a cooking class?” Tau piped up from beside Hibiki. 

    Hanon opened her mouth, then closed it again. “You know,” she said after a pause, “that actually might not be a bad idea. For next time, anyway.”

    Hibiki let out a loud groan. “I wish this stupid kitchen got crunched when the ships crashed,” she grumbled to herself, after her half-second hope that Tau’s suggestion had freed her from this fate had been dashed. 

    Hanon laughed. “You’d still be helping me then, we’d just be cutting these vegetables outside.” She didn’t bring up that that’s where she’d been when the ships had connected.

    To corral all members of their group was no easy task in and of itself, but it was made easier by promises of food. Tengfei collapsed on a fallen log dragged in front of the bonfire by Altair, tired but nonetheless happy to have a plate of food in his hands. Everyone was scurrying around trying their absolute best to be useful, but were hindered by the fact that few of them really knew how  to, at least, in this situation. Used to life with a high degree of everyday technological assistance, every last one of them was floundering like a fish out of water - and they still had a good portion of the luxuries they did before.

    It was Sibyl who chose to address the group. A large portion of her time had recently been consumed by the engineer’s investigations, and a large portion of the group was staring at her now that she was out of her cave. They gawked at her with an incredulous disbelief that there were not just one, but two Venusians aboard a tiny five member pirate crew. And they were right to not believe that, he supposed, given that the woman in front of them was originally from Ceres, though she’d spent a good few years living on the gold-clouded world and had picked up their fashion sense somewhere along the way. Her clothing was shorter than the typical Venusian gown, ending sensibly around her knees rather than floating along the ground, but was a beautiful teal and jade decorated with ornate golden beading. Clipped to the thin straps of her flapper-like dress were matching beaded epaulets that held a rosy sheer cape in place - one she’d requested from Val, a prettier version of Ceresian wings, not that she was likely to ever go back to use them.

    “We’ve finished analyzing all the data we were able to extract from both ships,” she announced to a captivated audience, “and we were unable to find anything that alluded to internal system malfunction or user error.”

    Several held breaths were let go. He felt Val’s shoulders relax next to him - there must’ve been quite a few people secretly wondering if they were the ones that doomed them all. The blue-haired woman’s constant accusations of such were likely not helping.

    “Okay, and?” Said the human personification of a cramp herself. “Are you saying we all just magically fell out of the sky on our own? You wasted your entire day just to find that?”

    “I’m getting there,” hissed Sibyl, “shut the hell up.” The blue-haired lady’s head reeled back slightly, clearly she was a bit taken aback, if not shocked to be addressed with a tone equivalent to her own. “We did detect an anomalous burst of energy from the surface of the planet that began not long before the crash. We think it may have effectively blinded the sensors of both ships, causing them to be unable to detect each other.”

    All eyes had turned to the blue-haired woman once more, in anticipation for her - as they’d come to expect it - pretty much inevitable outburst. But no such outburst came. Nor did a well deserved apology for her constant bling flinging of accusations at everyone who dared to move or show some sign of life. She simply stood there, waiting patiently. Sibyl continued.

    “We don’t know what exactly it was. Could have been a malfunction of Mars’ artificial magnetosphere, could have been a targeted attack, could have been some unknown biological function of a constructed lifeform that we don’t know about and should hope we don’t meet.”

    “Any idea where it came from?” Arche asked.

    “Somewhere below our flight path is the best we can do right now,” Sibyl shook her head. “So… somewhere in the southern hemisphere, as opposed to Elysia.”

    Everyone shared glances, and then exploded into a frenzy of chatter. Their words crashed over each other like water rushing forth from a burst dam, the topic of which was the mysterious infamous death world they’d all become stranded on. It was difficult to imagine there was anyone out there to attack them, even if they managed to get past the lack of known reason to do so. Which left them all with one of the two other possibilities.

    One: if the magnetosphere was malfunctioning, that could very quickly and easily become an apocalyptic catastrophe. If they did not get off world, they would die. And they were going to have a very hard time getting off world.

    Two: they were out here with a living thing that could disrupt their technology’s signals and trigger catastrophe. They were now on the ground with the thing that knocked them out of the sky. It was hard to gauge the reality of this particular scenario, given that so little was known about Martian life. Though everything here had been meticulously and purposefully designed and crafted by humans, the information regarding it had been lost - though whether it was to time or purposeful destruction and secrecy was a matter of hot debate amongst Martians.  In fact, he could hear the two Martian twins engaging in said debate right now, a few feet away. He gave a glance to Deimos, once again passionately advocating the latter theory to whoever would listen.

    No matter which option ended up being true, their chances of survival were far, far lower than any of them had thought.

    A clatter of a ladle against a pan silenced the chatter. He looked over in Hanon’s direction - the other ship’s captain had snatched the used tools from atop her makeshift table. “We need to decide our next course of action.”

    Apparently when she said that, she was not asking the group what they all wanted to do next, she was warming up to bark orders. Of course. He didn’t know why he was dumb enough to let himself expect otherwise for a moment there. He knew better than that.

    “Now that all the engineers are free, I want you guys on ship repairs. We may not be able to get it to fly again, but we want the distress signal to keep sending, and chances are we’ll need to make use of the med bay again, amongst other things. Sibyl ought to take charge of that, since she knows the ship best. And I want Altair to-”

    “Shut up,” Tengfei hissed, rage boiling to the surface. His mouth had moved of its own volition, the man it was attached to barely aware that he’d said anything at all. But even if he did not make the decision to start it, he would make the decision to finish it. “We don’t work for you. And we don’t take orders from you. If you have any suggestions, feel free to share them with the group and we can discuss it and make a democratic decision, but if you just want us to behave like a bunch of servants bending to your whims you can forget it.”

    “Are you insane?” The other blue-haired woman snapped, stepping forward. “We’ll obviously fall apart without a leader to keep everyone in-”

    “No,” Arche held a hand up to her, signaling to her to back off, “No, he’s right, actually.”

    Tengfei was speechless. That was the last thing he was expecting to hear.

    “What?” said the annoying lady in disbelief.

    “I agree with Tengfei. It would be amazing if we could do away with all the rank and hierarchy garbage and just talk to each other and help each other out like equals. I hate being the boss, and frankly, I’ve mostly just been trying to step up out of obligation as someone shoved into the role of captain,” she admitted, and Tengfei could practically feel the confusion that line put into every head in the circle, “but I’m not just saying that to get out of responsibility. Tengfei’s right. We don’t need a leader to stand above everyone else.”

    “Do you have worms in your brain?”

    “I’m a rational being, just like everyone else here. There’s no reason for me, or anyone else, to be in charge if we just all act like adults and cooperate with each other. Which, so far, everyone has been doing a fantastic job of, except for you.”

    “What is happening right now?” Val whispered, leaning towards him. Tengfei didn’t have a response for her, he could only witness the events in front of him.

    “Might I point out that none of you have any survival skills whatsoever?” the woman growled once more. “Without someone to guide the group, we’re all going to die.”

    “You’re right, Cassie. None of us have any survival experience, including you and I. Which means none of us are qualified to tell anyone else what to do.”

    That, finally shut her up.

    Hibiki stood up, taking advantage of the momentary crumb of silence carved out in the middle of this argument. “Well, in that case, Tau, Bellyrub and I are going into the forest to find us more food. Someone’s got to, and we’re pretty much the only ones with any experience in the wild. Although that was on Earth.” she uttered the last bit quietly. 

    “Um…” Tati raised her hand, ever-so-politely. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to accompany you.” She smiled warmly at the three mercenaries. “I’m a bioengineer who specializes in plantlife, so I should be able to help identify what is and isn’t safe to eat, at the very least.”

    Tau hummed in thought. “That sounds pretty useful and all, but are you sure you’re up for it? We don’t know what’s in there, and I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to protect you.”

    “I’m willing to risk it,” she said.

    “Then it’s a date!” Said Hibiki, clapping her hands. “We can set out after we eat!”

Hibiki and Tau had known each other for a couple years now. The two had become rather quick friends after their first meeting, and, having nothing better to do for the time being, and no particular goals besides travel and not starve along the way, Hibiki had decided to tag along with Tau and his guild, and eventually became a member herself - albeit the only one to not adopt their trademark silver hair coils. It was easier to work with a partner anyway, at least a cooperative one - and being assigned jobs by the guild really cut back on the desperate scrounging for any type of job to get herself fed, like she was used to. This wasn’t anywhere close to being their first larger mission together. It was more like their twentieth. They worked well together, to the degree that eventually both their guild and employers alike began to not see them as two separately hired individuals so much as a set, and they were often sent off to do tasks together, without the help of anyone else.

So, understandably, it was a bit odd to have a third person- or, well, a third human, that was, as Bellyrub often liked to tag along in their adventures- in their group this time around. Hibiki didn’t even realize she was staring at Tati until the woman smiled back at her and waved. She quickly looked away.

She didn’t mind, of course, but she’d settled into a bit of a routine of only running around with Tau and Bellyrub, and it was surreal to be adding a soft and bubbly Venusian to their party. Hell, Hibiki didn’t think she’d ever really interacted with someone like Tati. Her life, whether she was on Ganymede or Earth, was full of loud, tough, rough-and-tumble folk, and there was a weird aura of gentleness about not just Tati, but the few other Venusians she’d met as well. She’d seen pictures and heard stories of Venus, and she was captivated by the sheer alienness of the idyllic cities floating upon gilded clouds, every aspect of them perfectly manicured and maintained, orderly and ornate, with grand architectural styles inspired by various ancient Earth civilizations, and residents always decked out in couture. It was a far cry from Earth’s own rough, chaotic form of beauty.

And because the cities were strictly limited in their size, Venus had by far the lowest population of any colonized world, with a cap on not just the number of citizens allowed to live in each city, but also on how many tourists were allowed in at once - and, of course, it was a several month long journey to get there from Earth or Diana. So it was a bit rare, especially for those in her profession, or amongst the kinds of people her life happened to bring her across, to even meet a person who had been to Venus, much less lived there. And here was a Venusian herself, dressed head to toe in the finest floating chiffons and silks of pink and mint, decorated with golden trim and interwoven with roses, daisies, and other small flowers that looked as though they were real. Her locks had rings of gold clipped into them, and her skin looked impossibly soft.  If Hibiki had been told that the lady happily humming as she followed the two almost complete strangers into the unknown wilderness was some kind of goddess, she probably would have believed it. Venus wasn’t all that much further from Earth and Diana than Mars was, but where Mars felt like their next door neighbor, Venus seemed as though it was galaxies away. 

Perhaps that was more because every Venusian she’d met had been unapproachable in their own way. Ollie barely acknowledged the existence of others, unless they needed medical attention. Tatianna in particular had a friendly and carefree attitude, but she seemed as though her mind was still lost drifting amongst the clouds of her homeworld. 

Hibiki had so, so many questions, and no idea how to begin to ask a single one of them.

For a while, the group trekked in silence, but the forest itself was anything but. A gentle, warm breeze rustled emerald foliage that seemed to emit its own faint glow, which grew more and more noticeable as the sky got darker and darker, until she was sure that the veins of the of the leaves here were in fact faintly illuminated with a green glow of their very own, the tips golden. The leaves were large and the trunks tall, every little thing seeming far larger on the smaller planet than they did on Earth. Hibiki was no botanical connoisseur, but she was pretty sure it would be fairly uncommon to find trees this large on her world. At their feet was a thick layer of all the typical hallmarks of forestry: fallen leaves, twigs, grass, soil even - though she’d no idea how the once carnelian colored planet had gotten so covered in that in only three centuries. She heard the distant calls of wildly unfamiliar creatures echo and bounce from one tree to another, and by a small stream, a few abnormally large, fist-sized fireflies flitted about.

Though Hibiki had traveled a lot, and Earth was not anywhere near devoid of greenery, even after all it had been through, she’d still always stuck to where the jobs were: cities. Not only was this forest foreign to Hibiki, but so was the entire concept of forests even being places you could go to, or where there were things to look for and see and do. She knew them only as briefly relevant liminal spaces, which was just another thing that made this experience all the more novel and alien. She’d been to parks before, but this place was completely unhinged in comparison, and it left her in awe. Was this what Earth was like before humanity happened to it?

“So where are you three from?”

Looks like Tati had beaten her to the punch on asking questions.

Tau was the first to pipe up. “I’m from Botswana… probably anyway, and Hibiki is originally from Ganymede. And Bellyrub is technically from Siberia, I guess? She’s a Siberian dire cat.”

“Oh, that’s right! You’re Hanon’s sister, so of course you’re from Ganymede… that’s cool. I’m from Astarte.” Tati didn’t seem as if she recognized any of the other places they’d listed off. Or if she did, she clearly didn’t know a whole lot about them, judging from her expression. Hibiki imagined she was probably experiencing the same thing that she did when hearing the name of a Venusian city, the mere knowledge that a place by that name exists, if even that, but rarely anything more.

“What’s it like there?” Hibiki jumped on the first opportunity to hear all about it.

“Oh! It’s absolutely gorgeous there. Astarte in particular is famous for being the whole system’s leader in bio-engineering, with a massive focus on plant life. The architecture there is grown, not built. Like, the houses are made of fast-growing trees that are shaped into buildings, for example. A lot of the plant life that was specially engineered for Mars biomes a long time ago were actually developed in Astarte and transported over! Though, after the way that got out of hand, we’re much more careful about how we use bio-engineering these days. Even if that one wasn’t necessarily our fault.” Tati frowned. “Which I can understand, but it’s a bit of a shame. I mean, I’d love to see Astarte-style homes everywhere, amongst other things we have. It would solve a lot of problems.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘got out of hand?’ Do you know anything about the Martian Wilds? I keep hearing all sorts of things from all sorts of people who don’t seem to know what they’re talking about.” said Hibiki.

“Ah, I just mean like, well… let me start from the beginning. You know how most of Mars is off limits to humanity? And how everyone’s all just shoved on Elysia?”

“…Yeah?”

“Well, that’s because they went a lil bonkers with bio-engineering when they were terraforming Mars. They had to edit the genes of most animals so they could stand lower gravity without harmful long-term effects anyway, right? Aaaaand they decided to do whatever else they wanted while they were at it. The plants are relatively normal, but I heard they basically made giant monsters that could eat cities. To the point where people couldn’t settle the rest of it without burning the whole planet down and starting over.”

“I heard it was because of fish people.” Tau piped up.

“Tasty,” said Bellyrub.

“Both of those sound a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?” said Hibiki. She had to be messing with her. Although, a city sized monster could be a possible culprit for their ship destroyer…

“Aw man,” said Tau, “Don’t say stuff like that. I’ll bet you totally just jinxed it. We’re gonna get eaten by a giant monster now.”

“Or fish.” Bellyrub chirped, seemingly excited by this prospect.

“A fish monster? Sea serpents? A hydra, maybe?” Tau was just throwing out random ideas at this point.

“Not exactly my field of expertise, but I dunno if the regenerating double heads thing is all that feasible, at least with where our technology is at right now. Sea serpents, on the other hand…”

“You seem…” Hibiki searched for the right words. “Incredibly cheery for someone who apparently believes we’ve been stranded on a whole planet that’s been turned into a predator infested hellscape.”

“Yeah, well I mean,” Tati picked an emerald leaf from a nearby branch and inspected it as she walked. “It seems pretty okay. So maybe it’s all just weird myths and legends or exaggerations or something, you know? We haven’t exactly run into any trouble yet.”

“Sure, but we’ve only been here in the undergrowth for like… I dunno, half an hour or so?” While Tati’s secondhand story, and, for that matter, just about every other story she’d ever heard of Mars sounded a little far-fetched, and Tau was most likely just making stuff up on the fly, she had to admit that there was most likely a very good reason why human civilization on Mars had not expanded past Elysia. In hindsight, she wished they’d dragged one of the Martians along with them on their little expedition, but they’d probably have been just as lost as the rest of them. Elysia was practically its own world, separate from Mars.

They needed to stay on their guard, although Tau and Bellyrub both seemed excited at the prospect of danger, and Tati was acting as though she wasn’t even familiar enough with the concept to be mildly bothered. Were they really pirates? None of them bothered to correct their crew when they referred to them as such. She knew Tau could handle himself and look after Bellyrub as well, but they both tended to be very reckless, and she still preferred to keep an eye on both of them. She was probably going to have to give that up and just trust in them to not die, while she looked after Tati - at least for the time being.

They wandered for quite some time, trying not to take any turns lest they get lost. As dusk eventually approached and both Tati and Tau (the latter of which she knew was used to long travels) began to complain about their weary legs, the trees thinned until they gave way entirely to a large clearing, at the center of which sat a perfectly circular pond, likely once a little crater. The water was a pretty pastel pink, and above it dozens of fireflies casually drifted, reflecting gold down onto it. Reeds and papyrus lined the border of the pond, and a tall willow tree dragged its drooping branches through the pale liquid. Around it were hundreds of wild strawberries unlike any Hibiki had ever seen. Each berry was huge, about the size of her head, and glowed various pinks and reds. Large white flowers, glowing like everything else, lay scattered between and below everything. It looked like a gathering place for spirits and fae.

Up until now, the forest had seemed fairly standard, with the exception of the faint bioluminescence that seemed to have been added to absolutely everything, but it was the scene before her that fully made her realize the situation she was in: they were, in fact, on a completely alien world.

Bellyrub rushed up to the edge of the pond, gazing in wonderment, with Tati not far behind her. Tati reached her arm out, and a firefly floated over and landed in her palm, fitting perfectly as if made to be gently held. Tau approached a berry, and plucked it from its stem, which seemed as sturdy as a steel beam. He took a bite without hesitation, and Hibiki wondered if it was really safe to eat something that was glowing like that, but she let her worries go as Tau gave her a thumbs up to communicate that they at least tasted good. What’s done was done, if that strawberry did anything horrible to him they’d just have to deal with it later. She approached Tati as the firefly decided it had lingered long enough and continued on - joining its brethren in trying to escape the thrashing excitement of the massive kitten.

“There are pink lakes in a few places on Earth.” remarked Hibiki, who had seen one herself in Australia. “Though they’re usually that color because of the salt.”

“I don’t think that’s all that likely here.” Said Tati. “This water is probably pink as a result of some sort of algae or other microorganism. Look, there are papyrus, reeds, and water lilies growing in it. Salt would kill all of those off.”

Hibiki nodded, and pointed to Tau over her shoulder. “And the berries?”

“They’re… probably fine?” Tati sounded a little unsure. “I’ll scan them, but it’s a pretty normal thing to eat, right? I bet it just made sense to make it all big and whatnot. For food reasons. But I can’t see a reason for them to add any toxins or whatever.”

“Even though it looks radioactive?”

“Bioluminescence was one of the first things that early bio-engineers in charge of terraforming Mars decided to add to things. The idea was to create a well-lit environment in which humans could see perfectly fine at night. Though, I’m sure the early bio-engineer’s artistic flairs played a role as well. I think we’re going to have a hard time finding anything that’s not bioluminescent to eat.”

Hibiki shrugged. “Fair enough, I guess.” She left Tati to stare at the lovely pink pond and turned towards the strawberry patch, shrugging off her kimono-esque jacket so she could bundle up as many bright berries as possible in it.

After quite literally falling out of the sky and running around practically all day and night for what felt like an eternity, Tau was glad to get a break. Actually, he hadn’t realized just how tired his legs were until he sat down in the strawberry patch. Sure, he’d complained earlier, but that was mostly because he liked to complain; it hadn’t quite hit him that heavily til now. He was used to lots of traveling, and was certainly no stranger to walking - and yes the lower gravity did lessen the strain of the activity, but for crying out loud, he was still bruised and sore from the impact of the crash - but he still usually had his motorcycle with him, and if anything was gonna take him this long to get anywhere, he’d just ride on that. There weren’t exactly roads on Mars, barring Elysia of course, but the majority of it was still incredibly flat, and he could’ve weaved between the trees if he took it slow. 

But alas, his precious motorcycle, which he’d spent countless hours upgrading, switching out parts, and prettying up, had been shattered against the walls and impaled by loose chunks of steel back on the ship. He didn’t want to think about what had become of it. It just made him sad.

At least Bellyrub and Hibiki were unscathed. The motorcycle, as much as he did value it, was replaceable - those two not so much. The incredibly large kitten was rolling around in the strawberry patch and pouncing fireflies with boundless energy. Dire cats weren’t just edited to be large, but had also had their lifespan extended like other modern cats and dogs. This was accomplished in part by slowing their metabolism, which incidentally also resulted in them remaining as kittens or puppies for much longer. Bellyrub likely wouldn’t reach full maturity, or full size for that matter, until she was about ten. Granted, most wouldn’t look at the waist-high bundle of fluff and muscle and assume she was any sort of kitten, but anyone who spent a bit of time around her would easily glean it from her energy, attitude, and playfulness.

Suddenly, he felt something large and soft slam into his back, then spring off of him. Bellyrub landed in front of him with an impressive flip. Clearly she was having fun jumping high and doing stunts she normally wouldn’t be able to on Earth, or would at least have a much harder time with. She arched her tail and stood up on her tip-toes, staring with wide, intense eyes at Tau, which he returned, still as could be, massive strawberry all but forgotten in his hands. She hopped towards him, then away from him, and then sprinted off in the opposite direction at light speed. There was no way he was going to back down from her challenge. Tau sprang up and sprinted after her, even though he knew he’d never catch up, not on foot at least.

Bellyrub skirted around the pastel pond and scrambled up the trunk of the great willow tree that loomed over it. Perched on a branch, she stared down at Tau with her tail thrashing, incredibly pleased with herself for finding a high place he could not reach. There were no rules to the game she had started, yet she was satisfied in knowing that she had most certainly won it.

Except, she had made a pretty big miscalculation, in that Tau definitely could reach her - had she forgotten that he was their guild’s parkour master, or thought about the fact that the decreased gravity would apply to him too? Apparently not, as her expression shifted when he began to climb up after her. He reached her in no time, throwing his arms around her neck. “Got you!”

With an excited trill, Bellyrub thrashed with reckless joy that sent them both careening out of the tree. They fell to the ground, Bellyrub landing on her feet gracefully, and Tau crashing softly next to her. The two chased each other around the pond, until finally Bellyrub decided she’d had enough and flopped down in the grass under the willow tree. Tau plopped down next to her, his legs now screaming at him even more than they had been before, (but who could say no to a cutie like her?) He reached out to run his hands through her belly fluff.

“That?” The voice of Bellyrubs talk collar was accompanied by her own chirp as she pointed her nose toward the trunk of the tree. The translator collars that non-speaking animals wore translated directly from thoughts and feelings to human language, rather than from one language to another - and often the translations were a bit janky, lacked proper grammar, and took some deciphering. This time, Tau could at least tell from the intonation that it had been a question of some sort, and he followed her line of sight.

Scurrying around the base was what was unmistakably an ant - although it was far more massive than any ant Tau had either seen or heard of, probably by a magnitude of about a thousand. It was nearly three feet long. Tau stared at the creature. He had always found certain insects fascinating - a pretty bug shined more beautifully than any gemstone, in his opinion, and this one was no exception. It was a sleek jet black color in the front, and faded to a deep red in the back. It sported golden markings, glowing as everything else here did, but with the soft, pale color of a candle flame. That being said, no matter how pretty it may have been, no insect had any business being that large as far as he was concerned.

He then spotted a second ant.

And a third.

Tau sprung to his feet with incredible speed, overdoing it a bit and jumping into the air, unexpectedly floating for a good second or so before landing. So much for a break, but really, he only had himself to blame for taking Bellyrub up on the invitation to play. “Okay Bellyrub, time to go! We’re getting the hell out of here.” Where there was one ant - and especially where there were three of them - there was bound to be a good thousand or so more nearby. Were these guys carnivorous? Were they all prey? It was probably a bad idea to stick around.

Hibiki and Tati were taking a break on the other side of the pond, sitting amongst the strawberry patch. Tati had mentioned something about setting up camp and spending the night here, as the sun had already set by now. But as they glanced over and saw the ants swarming and clambering over each other, advancing on Tau and Bellyrub at ridiculous speeds, it became very clear that that was not going to be happening. Hibiki picked up the wad of strawberries and silk - now affixed to a stick she’d found on the ground, and grabbed Tati by the wrist, running as their two companions caught up to them. The Venusian woman stumbled over her own dress, not having the chance to bunch it up and get it out of the way of her feet. She nearly took Hibiki down with her, but she managed to right herself after a second, and her scrambling feet pulled her along behind the others.

Tau looked back to make sure everyone was all there and keeping up, and watched as the ants swarmed over and began to rip apart the sweet berries. Ants sliced through and ripped out chunks of the fruit, making quick work of the entire patch, shreds of red and white tossed everywhere. Fireflies scurried away, and their absence seemed to turn the clearing a more eerie color. The ants scrambled back and forth, carrying the blood-red chunks of berry meat into the forest behind the willow tree, presumably in the direction of their nest. It was a mortifying display of carnage, if you were a sweet plant. Hibiki grabbed his arm and pulled him away before he’d had too long of a chance to look, dragging him from the scene, now pulling both him and Tati along.

“Hey, Tatianna?” Hibiki called over towards their newest companion, as she let both their hands slip from her own. “What the hell is - why?” She couldn’t manage to get a coherent sentence out, but the question seemed to get across just fine nonetheless.

“I… don’t know!” she gasped for air, clearly not accustomed to running. “Because someone… just… decided one day… that ants… should be big… and then they went… and did it!”

Tau wondered what exactly had been going through the minds of the bio-engineers who had been in charge of this disaster - every decision they’d made that he’d seen so far looked questionable at best, and a stupid, dangerous waste of resources at worst. And that was coming from him! Looking over at Hibiki running beside him, he could tell she was thinking the same thing, though likely without the bit about thinking she herself had a tendency towards stupidity and recklessness - because she certainly did not.

He looked back, and no longer saw any ants. Were they in the clear? He slowed to a jog and stopped, for which Tati was incredibly grateful, plopping herself on a nearby fallen log. “Hey, Bellyrub, are they still following us?” He asked.

She paused and hung her mouth open, sniffing the air, ears swerved toward the direction of the pond. “Little smell, no step. No follow.”

Tau and Hibiki sighed in relief, simultaneously. Then Hibiki elbowed his side, grinning. “What are you so happy about? I thought you loved the adrenaline rush.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s different when it’s a life or death situation like that. It’s not the same as skydiving, or doing cool tricks on a motorcycle.” Sure, he was excited initially to run into some kind of cool monster… but being ripped limb from limb by a swarm of insects was a whole different can of ants. Besides, he kinda… forgot in that moment that he had other people to watch out for here.

“I think that trying to do a flip on your motorcycle from a five story roof to a three story one, or a wheelie on a goddamn construction crane, or even going 250 mph down an empty road totally qualifies as a life or death situation, but go off, I guess.” Man, she was never gonna let him live any of that stuff down, was she? Hibiki wasn’t usually a passive aggressive person, but when the subject of his fun lil daredevil stunts came up, well… they were the exception to the rule. Tau sighed and put his hands up in surrender; there was absolutely no way he was winning an argument on that topic. He knew she was only being so annoying about it because she didn’t want to see him die horribly, and, to her credit, he had had several near death experiences, and she had succeeded in preventing several more, for which he was grateful. However…

“Hey, I didn’t even do anything this time!” Tau whined.

Hibiki paused. “You’re right, sorry. I was only trying to tease you a little, didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it, it’s been a long day.”

“Want sleep.” Bellyrub let out a whining meow.

“We’ll rest if we can find a safe place to do so, but that… might be a little difficult.” They hadn’t exactly seen too terribly many places to hide on the way there. “Looks like we might have to try walking back to the ship overnight.” Hibiki grumbled.

“We can’t keep doing this every day,” said Tati, now having caught her breath somewhat. “We can grow these in a garden, but that’ll take time. This was way too long of a trek to be sustainable; either we need to find something closer or everyone needs to abandon ship and move elsewhere, where there’s food.”

“Which isn’t an option, because there’s no shelter and who knows what the hell else.” said Tau.

“Well, the animals have gotta be sleeping somewhere.” Hibiki pointed out.

True, but, aside from ants and fireflies, they hadn’t actually really seen any of the animals, which made them a bit hard to track. They’d heard plenty of sounds that he assumed, and, well, hoped were from animals of some sort or another, but who knows what the hell those were, where the hell those were, and what the hell they were doing. Hibiki's street smarts, Tati’s book smarts, Bellyrub’s cuteness, and his own general charisma would’ve served them all very well in an urban setting, but were all pretty close to, if not entirely, useless here.

He turned his head at the sound of claws scrambling up wood, and saw Bellyrub wrapped around a tree, as though hugging it. She let out a chirp, and then one or two excited hops upward, and then she scurried into the branches. Tau called out after Bellyrub, and her collar responded back: “Up, up!”

Whether that was a command, or simply an exclamation of her own excitement to ascend into the foliage could have easily been a subject of debate, but Tau decided to assume it was the former, jumping up to grab a low hanging branch for the second time that day, pulling himself up with relative ease - despite the tiredness and soreness - and following Bellyrub.

He found her perched upon a wide part of the tree, where nearly every branch extended outward at one point. It wasn’t flat, but it was flat enough to walk to comfortably without questioning whether or not he was going to fall - hell, they could probably sleep up there if they so desired, which he was betting they did. There was a dip in the middle of the tree where three branches intersected - they could probably sleep there okay. It may not be comfortable, but it would do. “Bellyrub, you’re a genius! Good girl!” He rubbed her belly as she flopped onto the bark and purred, rolling around.

“Don’t fall out of this one, you two, alright?” Hibiki snickered from behind them, pulling herself up after Tati. “You’ll be able to fall a lot further without getting hurt here - but let’s not test the height you need to be at to break something.”

“Oh wow, it’s gorgeous up here!” Tati had kept climbing up, popping her head out of the canopy and looking out over the forest.

“Want see! Want see!” Bellyrub yowled, and bolted up a different branch. Tau looked at Hibiki, who shrugged, and made her way up as well. Well, hell, he wasn’t about to get left out of the loop.

The top of the canopy was a sea of emerald and topaz, faintly glowing as specks of golden light - from what, Tau had no idea - floated upwards into the sky and fizzled out. Tau had seen a brighter array of stars in the sky back on Earth, but that was to be expected, as light pollution would be a bit of an issue here. What was new  to him were two wholly unfamiliar, lumpy little moons hanging in the sky, a large silver Phobos and a tiny golden Deimos, dangling above his head like two unrefined nuggets of a precious metal. Though the land was brighter than the sky itself, the stars and moons were nonetheless dazzling.

The gentle breeze that brushed against his face transformed into a mighty gust of wind, as an enormous beast rose from beneath the canopy and beat its wings, which spanned the size of a house, pulling it upwards into the sky. Its soft, feathery scales reflected the light of the forest back down onto it, though rather than emerald, it was more of a complimentary jade. Its body looked like freshly fallen snow, and upon its head sat two long, golden branches.

It was a luna moth.

Then another passed overhead, and another. Before he knew it, dozens were dancing in the sky together.

Maybe a few insects were allowed to have some business being that big.

#sci fantasy #sci fi #writers of tumblr #original story #cheralla's writing #starfall

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Don’t Let Go ~ Alfie Solomons

I’m in love with one man and one man alone. Mum and dad love Alfie too, but they still can’t take him away from me ;;;

How did she end up like this, she wondered? They were family...Even though her last name was not legally “Shelby”, she was still a part of the family since she was born. The parents were best friends, and when her parents died, Polly took her in. And then, they grew up together - Same home, same beds, same food, same clothes...Same everything.

And then, war came, and while true, she was younger than even John - Not by much, only about 3 years - But that didn’t seem to bother either of the Shelby siblings, and she was especially close with Arthur and Ada, mostly because they were the ones with the warmest hearts, and could understand her gentle one as well..

However, Tommy was the smartest of the family, and Polly taught her enough about Gypsy street-smarts, so the three of them together somehow became the true heads of the family, the true backbone that kept everyone straight and together.

When war came, she was barely 16, and yet, she joined them, dressing as a man and pretending to be a volunteer physician, healing and running around the battlefield, only to end up helping them dig up tunnels and plant explosions...

And taking a bullet for Tommy.

And nearly dying.

But at least, by the time they returned home, 4 years later, she was called an honorary Shelby and Polly officially adopted her.

She wasn’t Y/N L/N anymore, she was Y/N Shelby, and she was damn proud of that.

She helped with fixing races, rode around with her gorgeous black mare, going to the Garrison with her brothers to make sure they don’t end up drunk, in a ditch, she helped the strategy against the Lee family, got beaten up by Sabini, beat him up right back, got in that whorehouse of a Russian noble family, let the Duchess touch her while in her underwear, got beaten up by the priest, had to blow up a train with good people and many more...

But nothing was bringing her down, because she was a Shelby, and she was strong - Mentally, Physically, Emotionally - And she wanted to make sure the family was together, or at least trying to hang on, somehow.

She was the perfect woman - Never drank, never smoked, never cursed, never did drugs, never did drugs, never dated anyone... 

But when one day, Thomas took her on a meeting at Alfie’s place... Boy of boy, was that entertaining.

She always appreciated Thomas’s ambition, cunning and intelligence...But Alfie?  Alfie was something else. Something much above him, no much smarter, so much better at scheming...And at everything, really. And she was attracted by him like moths to the light.

Back and forth talks, interesting insights on life, learning words in foreign languages that she didn’t know, but he did, and likewise, teaching her foreign stuff, talking to him about books and many other things...

And it was weird, but it almost seemed like she didn’t want to leave that place any time soon, but Thomas needed her for business, so what could she do, really?

And she agreed...And agreed...And agreed...

Until one day, when all things went completely upside down and...Sure, she did her job, and she was supposed to return to Alfie’s to have a chat with him and Tommy... And she did...

As soon as she stepped inside the “Bakery”, she saw Ollie, whose eyes widened in shock seeing her in that state.

“Miss Shelby, what happened?! Let me call the physician-...I’ll go inform Alfie-...” Ollie stumbled over his words, only to have her grab his sleeve and pull him back. “Don’t tell them I’m here. With the way I look, better make it a surprise. Tommy’s here, right?” she asked, slamming the doors open, walking inside, the clicks of her small heeled boots resounding all over the place. “B-But Miss Shelby, we have to treat you - “ Y/N simply shot him a glare, before continuing in a straight line.  “Ain’t a Shelby anymore.” she muttered, and soon, she reached the middle of the wide business room, as Alfie was sitting at his desk and Tommy was pacing.  “Y/N...Finally, you’ve arrived. What happened to you?!” Thomas asked, rushing to her side, only for her to push him away. “You lied to me, Thomas. You lied to me. You promised I wouldn’t get hurt. That you were gonna make sure they wouldn’t touch me. That I was gonna come back perfectly unharmed, not even a strand of hair touched. Only business talks. How do you think that went?” the girl looked down, her hands deep in her bloodied, yet incredibly fancy and silhouette-fitting high-waisted pants.  “What exactly happened with the Sabini meeting, Y/N? And why are you covered in blood?!” he asked, frowning. “It’s fine, not ALL of it is MY blood, thanks for worrying, THOMAS!” but as she rasped out his name, she started coughing up some blood, and as her side started burning in pain, she lifted her already disheveled shirt, applying pressure with her hand where she got shot to keep herself from bleeding out. “Well...This one is.” she used her sleeve to wipe her face, completely non-chalant. “Y/N...Tell me what happened...Please...” Thomas’s voice went lower, almost as a soothing whisper, but it was quickly obliterated by Y/N’s exaggerated, yet pained laugh. “I got beaten up, raped and shot by Sabini and his men. That’s what happened, Thomas. No business talk, just abuse. You promised nothing will happen to me...But, oh, damn, remember that you told Lizzie the same too, and she, that fucker raped her at the Derby too, when you were too busy fucking around with two other women? Oh, wait...Is it because I’m a woman? Because, the way I see it, all women that you have in your life get abused somehow...By you. Grace died because of you. Ada left the city because of you. May got hurt because of you. Esme hates you...There’s also the Duchess, but she very much outsmarted you, so she’s safe and...Still a noble woman. And don’t even get me started on Polly...Poor woman...Having to endure living in the same world as you. For the amount of time you spend fucking women, one would think you’d be more considerate of them.” her beautiful eyes were sharp and hateful, throwing daggers at the man in front of her as she continued to pace around, her tongue speaking the poison that very much tainted her heart over the past many years of her life. “...Y/N. I know you’re in pain, and that I’ve hurt you. I know. You are right, I agree. I’m aware. But it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t have known, and-” as he continued, the girl calmly approached him, and as soon as she was right in front of him, she back-slapped him, thanking her classy mind for wearing lots of rings that day. As she laughed at the way the wounds showed up on one side of his face, she followed by slapping him on the other side, much harder than before. “Shut the fuck up, Thomas Shelby. Don’t speak to me. Don’t get close to me. I am not a Shelby anymore, so you can fuck off...Do you see who you’re doing business with, Alfie? A guy who can’t even protect his family! He got all of us arrested and almost hanged, made Ada go away, made Polly go insane, had Arthur beaten up, me as well, and guess what, Michael got shot and JOHN GOT KILLED! BECAUSE OF YOU, THOMAS! Grace died because of YOU! And your child got kidnapped and almost died BECAUSE! OF! YOU!” with each sentence, she punched him, hit him, kicked him, smashed him head with her knee, then on the wall, then ended by stomping her boot on his stomach...And walked away, as calmly as if never happened. “And...This is not my blood.”  “Well, lass, gotta say, yeah, you ain’t as much of an angel as I thought, eh. Or, maybe now more than ever, you’re the angel I thought you were.” Alfie watched from behind the desk, completely relaxed, analysing the show in front of him, and yet, his brain was running a thousand miles per second, thinking of millions of things. “D’you have a free spot here, Alfie? No guns and death and all that. Maybe...Someone to patch up your boys. I don’t know. Hell, I’ll even accept being your secretary or...Flower girl. Cook. Tea girl. I can walk Cyril...I don’t know, anything you want, just get me the hell out of this Shelby hell.” she turned around to look at him, using her other sleeve to clean her face, using the water from her tears. “Heard that, Thomas Shelby? Your sister’s deserted you, and for a good reason, eh. You can leave now, there’s other times to do business, right.” Alfie spoke, getting up and stepping towards her. “This isn’t over, Y/N. We’ll talk again. You’re a valuable part of the family, and you’re coming back, sooner than later.” Thomas went get get out of the building, only for the girl to quickly take out the gun from her jacket and cock it, pointing it at the man. “Fuck off and go to hell, Thomas.” she pulled the trigger... “Stop it, lass, don’t do it! You’re gonna regret it!” Alfie sprung out, holding one of his arms around her body, while his other hand went to her gun, making her shoot a wall instead of a living being, letting the man get out of there, still alive, somehow. “Damn it, Alfie! Why’d you do that! It’s 2 for 0, damn it! I’m fed up with taking bullets to save that guy, while all he does is sit comfortably behind his desk, damn it! I’m not a fucking rag doll that can be tossed in the trash!” she cried, trying to struggle out of his grasp, but the wounds were hurting her too much, so her strength gave out faster and she stood limp in his arms, trembling softly. “S’okay now, lass, yeah. I’ll bring ya to Cyril and we can...Uh...Drink that tea you like, right. Forget that guy, let’s get ya treated, right. Get that bullet out of ya. And sure, y’can be my physician, I know you were a great one in war, yeah.” the Jew gently took out the gun from her hand, throwing it to the ground for Ollie to take later, an he picked her up with much, bringing her to the medic’s room. “I need vodka, cigarettes, and if I’m brave enough some Tokyo...Snow...Whatever you call it.” she groaned as soon as she was place on the bed, as the gangster frowned in confusion at her. “I thought you didn’t do vices.” he sat on the opposite bed, watching her intently. “Woaw, I lied to you and everyone else in the world. I do drink and I do smoke and I did date before...Just...Not when people were seeing me. People think you’re an angel, they will hopefully leave you the hell alone. Difficult being a woman these days, as you can see. Everybody’s treating you like a piece of garbage. And bring me that vodka, I need to have the room spinning before I take out the bullet...And vodka’s the best disinfectant. The hospital stuff is washed up and diluted a lot of times.” she gave him a sarcastic half-smile, taking the cigarette he just lit up and puffed on it. “Only whiskey and rum, if you want, yeah. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not around here, lass. Just do what you want, nobody’s gonna say a thing, right, and if they do, you know how to use a gun, so shoot their brains, eh, show them all who’s in charge.” he got up, bringing her what she requested, watching attentively as she let her head back, poofing smoke into the air. “Thanks, Alfie. Come back in an hour. I don’t need witnesses of my misery. You know better than everyone, Captain Solomons, that taking out a bullet gets messy.” she pointed the cigarette at him, smirking miserably at him, knowing very well that she wasn’t mentally ready for the procedure. “Well, lass, if you’re very sure, you don’t need help, right, then I’ll be waiting outside.” the Jew patted her head, leaving the room, letting behind only a graveyard silence, that for some reason, creeped the girl out big time. “...Let’s fuck shit up, then...” she muttered to herself, letting the ashes of the cigarette fall pitifully on the bed, as she took a deep breath and violently slammed her hand over the medical tools.

She’s always been a very careful and precise person, and whenever she did this on someone else, she would have people keep the victim down, so she could rummage through their bodies with relative ease, especially after they got shit faced drunk...And maybe with some anaesthesis... But this is the worst. Just like back then, during the war...

Letting a few tears of anticipation fall down her face, she cut a bit deeper into her body, to allow her fingers, previously washed with alcohol, she whimpered and squealed as she searched around for the bullet - It was no easy feat for, but it had to be done, no matter the searing pain -.

It felt like time stopped completely before the extraction of the stupid lead thing, she held it in her hand, watching its taunting gleam glaring back into her eyes, then watched with horror that stupid bottle of whiskey, and with her last strength, she snatched it and putting her pillow over her face to keep the shrieking from leaving the room, and gritting her teeth, she let the alcohol pour out from the bottle, wailing loudly, and yet, hoping nobody would hear her.

She was still sobbing in the pillow, the fire-like pain, electrifying the surging, diffuse pain throughout her whole torso, and she laid there, throwing away that pillow as soon as the door was opened again, and adjusting her head, she noticed Solomons walking in the room, a basket dangling from his arms.

“What’cha got there?” she asked in a weak, whisper-like voice, still trying to recover. “Goodies. Freshly baked cookies. At least something that smells nice in this pigstry, eh.” Alfie’s joking way of speaking seemed to take away her mind, but she smiled apologetically, lifting her hands briefly. “Sorry, too much blood on my hands. Literally and metaphorically speaking.” she explained, only to have Alfie take out one of the cookies and feeding her. “...This...Is the best thing I’ve eaten in my life. Did you make them? Because if you did, you’re like...A Cookie God. Have more?” she asked, managing, with a lot of difficulty, pain and his help, to get in a sitting position. “Well, I’ve never been called a God, right, but it ain’t that bad, yeah. Here you go, one more. I’ll ask a maid to draw a bath for you, yeah, I doubt you wanna stay all bloody the whole day, eh.” he helped her eat another cookie, and weirdly enough, despite all the blood on her face, her small smile was oddly charming. “...Y’know...If you ever want to retire from this gangster bullshit...You could settle down and...Just bake for a living...No, rather, a hobby. I’m sure you have enough money for a life time, so might as well just rest and take it easy. Move away from here...Maybe another country...Or another city, at least...And just...Y’know...Be happy. You could do that...And be rid of stupid Italians and Americans and all these jerks.” Y/N spoke, more or less not directly to him, but in a way, she was projecting her own hopes and dreams. “Margate.” Alfie muttered, sitting down in front of her. “Margate?” she furrowed her brows in confusion, leaning forward a bit. “Aye. By the seaside. The sand is really soft, they say, and the waves are nice, yeah. Very calm town.” he continued, which made her gasp softly in realisation. “You...You DID think about retirement! It means you’re really kinda fed up with this...This mess. I like where this is going.” she smiled softly at him, nodding in agreement. “I think you’re making the right choice, if it makes for anything.” “Y’know, lass, you’re not wrong. We do need a vacation, yeah, and a very long one at that, right. Now, how ‘bout we talk about what you need, right, for this medical thing.  You’re a sensible woman, yeah, so, I trust you more with the details and organising.” he pointed, and thus, they started chatting idly about the medical issues, and even more, about life in general - Books, the pictures, concerts, travelling and things...Leisure things, just simple things that she never had the privilege to talk about, and she had no idea she wanted, nor needed.

Many weeks passed and things were unusually calm for her, and for the first time in her life, she felt...Happy. She enjoyed being around Alfie, working with him without being involved in all the killing, and she absolutely loved baking things together, and he was so charismatic and charming, always giving witty remarks that amused her and made her laugh...

It was the perfect life she always dreamt of having, and he even asked if she wanted to go to a jazz pub with him, and...She got to dress up, and do her make up and do her hair, wear pretty, expensive jewellery, and a damn fine dress to show off her gorgeous silhouette, and high heels to match...And she walked next to him, her arm hooked to his, as they enjoyed the beautiful jazz music and each other’s presence.

It was a blissful dream, and she swore that if anyone dared wake her up, she was gonna kill them, and it won’t be quick, nor painless.

“Y’know, Alfie...You’re the best man I’ve ever met in my life. And that says a lot, considering how many men I had the misfortune of meeting...Including my family.” she raised her champagne glass slightly to clink with his. “Maybe you haven’t met the right men, dear, yeah, y’know, and men in Birmingham are fucking shit anyway. Camden’s better, yeah.” the man chuckled mirthfully, leaning back on his chair. “You...Mentioned Margate once. How are things going on with that?” Y/N asked, smiling at him softly. “Well, lass, y’know, yeah, things are...Things are fine. But, uh...You see...The doctor said I’m sick. They aren’t really sure yet what’s wrong with me, alright, but they said the results should be given pretty soon, yeah.” he admitted after a few seconds of consideration, which made the girl gasp in shock, moving her chair to look at him better taking his hands in hers and leaning forward. “What did they say about it? Did they take blood sampled? Wanna do blood work? Or...Biochemistry tests? Or something more complex?” Y/N bit her lip, looking concerned like never before. “Don’t worry, lass, even if I die, yeah, I’ll still make sure you get paid for your hard work, alright?” the man tried to brush it off, but the indignant look on her face made him chuckle. “I’m gonna kill you if you imply something like that again. I don’t need your money, I just want you to be healthy and alright, got it? Now come on, tell me, what do they suspect. Also, where is your doctor’s clinic, and when will your results arrive.” she pressed on, waiting for an answer. “Come on, don’t be so serious, yeah, enjoy the show, it’s not every night we get to have fun, right?” Alfie, again, tried to play it off as nothing important, but the look on her face made him sigh and nod, giving in. “They think’s cancer, right. I got a tumour, they’re checking if it’s...Uh...Cancer or not. right. Doctor’s around here in Camden, results come out sometime in a week or two, that enough?” he rolled his eyes, and yet, he was grateful for her worrying. “...I guess. If I knew, I would have done the lab work myself, but, you know...If anything, I can do the procedure myself... Or maybe I should hold your hand and make sure you’re not scared. They have to do general anaesthesia, cut you open and all that...It won’t be fun.” she looked down a bit, before smiling encouragingly at him. “Y/N. I’m a big boy now, right, I’ll be fine, no need to worry about me, yeah, you just...You be okay, and relax, and-...And before long, we’ll go to Margate together.”  he continued, trying to calm her down, without realising at first of the commitment, until he noticed the excited gleam in her eyes. “Alfie...? Are you...Are you sure...? Margate is the place you want to go to...Why would you...Me...?” she muttered, almost unsure of how to react. “Let’s go home, eh. I want to make you some nice tea, yeah, and some cookies. I have to tell ya something, and I’d rather it not be out.” 

Alfie squeezed her hands, helping her get up, and the walk home was filled with anticipation and a comfortable silence that wanted to rip out the answers out of his throat.

He let her dress in more comfortable clothes, and so he did, then went down to prepare some nice and warm tea, with the biscuits he baked that day, and went to her room.

“Do you like me, Alfie?” she asked in a shushed voice, not daring to raise her head to look at him. “What’s not to like, lass? You’re smart and witty, and for some reason, you find me funny, and look at ya, you’re gorgeous, right. So if I say, yeah, I want you to come to Margate with me, I mean it. You just have to agree, aye. Get away from this and rest. God knows we need this.” he had a sweet smile on his face - A smile that quickly faltered when he saw stray tears falling down her face, and he started worrying. “Why...In the world...Would someone as amazing as you...Like me? Alfie, you’re...You’re amazing, and me, I’m...I’m the worst. I can’t let go of the past, and I’ve got like...This...This devil inside me...This Shelby devil that keeps whispering in my ear, saying that I’ll never be happy, and that I’ll...I’ll kill again, and I’ll be dragged back to that slum and...And all that happiness will just shatter and...And I don’t deserve you.” she looked down, hoping her long her would hide her face, but next thing she knows, she got brought into a tight embrace, and he stroked her hair, his chin on top of her head, waiting for her to calm down, and yet, he could feel her trembling softly. “Don’t say things like that, yeah, that’s not true. You’re with me, not with them anymore, right, so, then, you’re going back. I won’t let them take you back, if you don’t want to, aye. No need to cry, right, I’ll protect you from anyone who dares try to take you away, eh, even if it’s Tommy Shelby himself, so no need to cry, yeah, Y/N?” he spoke, only to feel her cling even tighter to the back of his shirt. “I...I’ve...I’ve never felt like this before, Alfie. You make me feel so warm...And safe...And happy...I’ve been hold before, but all I felt was repulsion and fright...I was panicked and I wanted to run away...But this...This never happened. And I think I love you, Alfie. Don’t let go of me, please.” her voice was barely audible, but Alfie could feel the raw emotions, so he laid down with her on the bed, holding her dearly. “It will be fine, Y/N, okay. None of these worries will come to you again when in Margate. You and I will be happy, away from here, yeah, so, know that I love you, and let’s wait just a bit more, so we can get rid of this Changretta mess, and we’re leaving, eh.” 

And it was true - From that night on, they slept in the same room, holding each other dearly, reassured that the next day, things will still be as good as the previous night. One morning, however, Alfie woke up without her in his arms, and he panicked, thinking the worst - Poor Ollie thought he was going to get killed - But it was all fine, as she returned with the biggest grin on her face, jumping in Alfie’s arms, not allowing him the chance to say a word, only shocking him. And she held his hands and dragged him to his room, getting him to sit on the bed, and at first, she wanted to make tea, but then she shook her head and brought a bottle of the best whiskey, poured it in the glasses and had him drink.

“Damn it, lassie, don’t fucking scare me like that, yeah, like, at least tell me in advance if you’re gonna leave, okay, I thought those fuckers got ya for good. What the hell was the urgency?” he asked, drinking the glass in one go before looking at her. “I...Well...Haha, sorry ‘bout that, I’m just...I’m sure super happy. So, as you know, today the doctors had to mail you the test results, so, you know, I seem to have been a bit too eager to find out, so I since there were no trains, I walked all the way to your doctor, told him this and that, then got the first train back, and here I am. Oh, and, obviously, I’m super happy ‘cause like, I couldn’t keep myself - Sorry ‘bout that, by the way - So I ripped the envelope and looked at the results. And, uh, yeah, so, I’m happy ‘cause - Look ! - No cancer! You’re completely, 100% cancer free! And, like, the tumor completely benign, no invasiveness, no metastasis, so this is completely curable by surgical removal, and it won’t affect your life span, nor will it, in any way, alter your health. Et, voila, here we are! Go on, drink, cheer, be happy, I know I am!” she laughed gleefully, watching the shocked spark in Alfie’s eyes as he took out his glasses to read over the annoyingly complicated medical stuff, but he was a smart guy, and he understood everything there is to it. “You’re the best, shiksa. You say things are gonna turn out bad, but here, look, they aren’t, and hey won’t right, ‘cause clearly, there’s something up there, alright, that’s looking out for us, and it ain’t only me making sure you’re fine. I’m happy, Y/N, and in less than a month, aye, we’re fucking away from here. Just the two of us...And Ollie as a butler, if ya want. And we can get as many dogs as you want. We can do whatever we want, really.” he hugged her tightly, cupping her face and kissing her tenderly.

It all went sweet and soft at first, and it got hotter and hotter, with much more passion than before, and one thing led to another, and their first night of overflowing love gave hope for a better future, one that will ensure their happiness and that won’t involve them in this stupid gangster war anymore.

Just him, her and Cyril, maybe Ollie too, at the side...What better life to have than this?

But just one week before they had to leave, as they were still preparing for their grand exit, Y/N was walking towards the clinic room to check on the few patients she had left, only to notice the glint of guns, and she did a turn around, looking for Alfie, and yet, Ollie stopped her in her tracks as soon as she saw her, rushing to hide her from the people who were, apparently, having a meeting with Alfie.

“Ollie, it’s an emergency. Life or death, I promise. I NEED to speak to him. Who is he having a meeting with?” she asked, holding her clipboard close to her chest, looking left and right carefully. “With the Sabinis. Now, come on, Y/N, whatever it is, can wait. I’m sure you can wait a bit with Cyril. Please.” Ollie pleaded with her, but she only started writing rapidly on her clipboard, letting the first two pages filled with obvious, typewriter-written pages about standard medical procedures. “I’m sorry, Ollie, but this is bigger than even Sabini. Come with me and NEVER leave Alfie alone with those sharks, got it?” she gave him a sharp look before rushing to the usual place Alfie had business meetings, and as she completely ignored the villains, she slammed the clipboard on his desk, giving him a look. “Very important medical business thing, I need your signature after you read through these.” as he was so much taller than her, she only needed to bend a bit to talk into his ear, carefully flipping the first two pages, only to reveal big, messy writing.

ENEMIES WITH GUNS IN THE MEDICAL WARD POINTED TO THE BOYS DON’T TRUST THEM

Alfie gave her a look, knowing shit went bad, he nodded slightly, getting a pen and, as his signature, he wrote “TELL OLLIE”, and ushered her to leave.  And so she did, and Ollie went to alert the other guys so they could ambush the enemies in the medical ward, all while cursing herself and preparing guns, hidden in her long trench coat, then returned to stay by Alfie’s side, her hands placed on his shoulders reassuringly.

“Mr. Solomons, I see the little song bird likes flying around to every powerful gangster family. Wonder if she’ll go to the Changrettas when she’s done with you.” the Sabini leader smirked at her, and Alfie could feel her nails digging into his flesh, and not even the good way this time. “Listen, listen, Mr. Sabini,eh. You come here, begging me for fucking favours, right, and then, you dare fucking speak ill of my partner, yeah? So, where is the fucking time where you, like, do something to make me want to do that fucking favour of yours, if the only fucking thing you make me want to do is to fucking grant you the favour of putting you out of this miserable fucking life, right?” there was no clearer indicator that Alfie was angry than when he cursed like his beard was on fire, and true, YN found it very weird, considering how sweet and gentle he’s always been with her, but she could feel the protective aura he gave off, and she never felt safer than now. “Aye, aye, Alfie, don’t overreact, please, it was just a merely innocent joke! Lighten up, let’s discuss business. We teamed up with Luca Changretta, we can give you money and exposure. We can sell your rum and weapons all over Europe, especially France and Italy, and that means, in the long run, a ton of money. I’m sure you’ll agree with me, won’t you?” Sabini spoke, and from the corner of her eye, she could see one of the men taking out a gun from the back of his pants. “Mr. Sabini, I will have to ask you, as Mr. Solomons’s secretary, not to take out any weapons, otherwise our men will shoot all of you, with no discrimination.” Y/N threatened in a low voice, taking her hands from Alfie’s shoulders, and crossed her arms to her chest, ready to draw her weapons at any second. “It’s alright, Y/N, right, I don’t think Mr. Sabini is fucking stupid enough to dare a shoot out in my own fucking warehouse, eh.” Alfie warned the Italian gangster, snapping his fingers for Ollie to come by. “Vaffanculo...Che stronza! No, fine, fine, we’re all calm, all good, right? We can have a business deal and leave this place happy, both parts, right?” Sabini spoke, using his hands to gesture everyone to calm down. “Stick that deal up your ass.” Alfie cursed Sabini in perfect Italian, making Sabini straighten up, almost as if he got sobered by a hammer to his head, and without a second to wait, some of the lackeys drew their guns.

But they were too late, for Y/N already had both guns out and killed most of them, starting with Sabini himself, and Ollie’s boys helped up just enough to have the Red Sea at their feet.

Once all the enemies were laying dead on the cold, wet ground, Y/N sighed, throwing the guns to the ground, sighing and staring at the carnage with the eyes of a dead fish.

Alfie nodded to himself, pissed off at the mess that just had to happen, a week before they were going to sail to a better place, without either of them having to bloody their hands anymore, just like now.

“Well, Ollie’s got them all, so we’re good now. The sooner we finish the preparations, the better. Let’s hope Changretta the Bitch gets blown up...I should go check on Cyril, I’m sure he got scared by the gunshots.” Y/N sighed, patting him on the shoulder before turning on her heels to leave, and yet, Alfie motioned to Ollie to clear the mess, and then followed her back to their room, watching her cuddle with the beautiful dog. “Are you alright, Y/N?” Alfie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching to stroke her hair, only for Cyril to reach to get his head pet instead. “Aw, Cyril...You’re the cutest baby ever. And...I will be, Alfie. I will be. Soon...Once we leave, I will be. Until then, I’m happy spending my time with you and Cyril. It relaxes me...And it makes me happy. WE are happy.” she reached out her hand, holding his, intertwining their fingers together and leading him to lay on his side, with the dog between them, like they were a family. “Well, darling, it’s just a few days longer, and we’re out of here, right. And we’ll be a family, like you want, and by the shore, there’re no more gunshots, right, so, we can learn how to swim, and we can mess with this slobbery bastard, and I can teach you how to bake other things. I heard the waves and the salty air help you sleep better. Ain’t that just fucking perfect, eh?” Alfie gave her a sweet smile, and laid there, with her, relaxing. “Sounds amazing, Alfie. I can’t wait for Margate, then. Just you, and me, and Cyril...And maybe Ollie too, y’know, that guy makes the best tea, ain’t gonna lie.” she giggled, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Aye, it’s gonna be great. And, we can travel wherever you want, whenever you want. Any country, any city, any date. You pick, we go. Sounds good?” Alfie asked, smiling tenderly at her excitement, happy that she wasn’t stuck on the previous blood bath. “Yeah, it sounds perfect. As long as we’re together, everything is better.”

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #polly shelby #elizabeth gray #michael gray #finn shelby

[tangerineliqu0r]

Kindle

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Hero!Reader

Summary: They haven't seen each other in 6 months, and after meeting on the metro, have a cute dinner.

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, married couple stuff, cursing, reminiscing

Word Count: 1373

a/n: I've been dying to actually start writing and I love Sam so much and don't see enough love for him so here it is <3

The bumpiness of the metro had never been nice to you. Whether it was smacking your head into the window or throwing you off balance, it had never been something you liked. Unfortunately, it was much faster than driving when you had to be downtown. Not to mention you weren’t much of a driver anyways.

That’s how you got stuck dosing off on the cracked seats on your way back from work. You’d think that working for the government would have its perks, but here you were working until late and riding the damn metro back home. You were exhausted, so much so that your eyelids were half closed where pictures of a warm bed and Chinese takeout danced behind your eyes. To anyone else on the train, you probably looked completely asleep or at least in your own little world. You were almost knocked out until the train pulled up to a stop and a voice yanked you out of your dreams.

“Hey, is that really you? What’re you doing in DC?”

The striking figure of Sam Wilson entered your half-lidded vision. He was getting on the train and grabbing a standing spot directly in front of you. Despite the initial shock of seeing him you were still able to get a stiff answer to come out of your mouth as you tried to wake yourself up.

“Oh, you know, working myself to death, you know the feds don’t want any of us roaming the streets.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Retiring was never an option for you, it seemed you’d always be paying them back for your ‘enemy of the state’ pardon.

“Yeah, I felt that. Always the next job, right?”

“Exactly. They’ve got me cooped up in an office with a bunch of techs now. Said something about me being unsafe and unpredictable in the field, before assigning me some shitty therapist and slapping me behind a computer.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought.

“Shit, I’d kill for a desk job right now. Seems like I fly from mission to mission and get patched up on the plane in between.Dealing with the world post blip isn’t as easy as it seems.”

“I know Sam, the world’s so different and I’m so busy I swear I don’t think I’ve sat down at my kitchen table to eat in 4 months.”

I shifted over so I was fully in my seat and motioned for him to take the seat next to me. I could see the exhaustion on his face as he plopped into the seat. He leaned fully back and stretched out his long jean clad legs.

He blows air out of his mouth and laughs at me, “God damn, I felt that, takeout’s good, but nothing beats a good steak and sprouts.”

Obviously, it hadn’t taken long to fall back into their old ways: complaining about work and talking about food. All we needed to turn back time now would be a quick kiss. You couldn’t help but to reminisce. The two of you used to be like two peas in a pod, where he was you were. Seeing him after all this time made you realize just how much you missed him. You missed being around him all the time. You missed the way he’d laugh at your stupid jokes. You missed cooking for him and staying in to watch some cult classic. You missed going out to Tony’s fancy parties and then driving around for hours with Sam after. You missed the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin against yours. You missed him more than you realized, and the feeling gave you the confidence to speak up.

“Come over to mine then, I still go grocery shopping and I’m sure I can whip up an actual meal for you.”

His brown eyes light up, and you know you’ve got him with the promise of good cooking. “God, it’s been forever since I’ve ate your food, you know I can’t turn that down.”

“Good, I got you just in time then, because my stop is coming up.” You smiled at him.

Suddenly the day had gotten better, even with the torture of work and the monotony of life, Sam Wilson had managed to brighten up your world with just a glance.

Despite your stops coming up in any minute, you felt that they were taking an indefinite amount of time. The excitement to be with Sam for the evening overrode any patience you had managed to develop over your lifetime.

When the stop finally came, the two of you made the quick walk back to your apartment in no time.

“Government assigned?” Sam quirks his eyebrow at you as you pull the front door open.

“Of course, I’m sure they’ve got a million agents in this damn building watching my every move. I swear, you can get pardoned, but they don’t every really pardon you.” You smirk as the two of you enter the elevator.

“Ha!” He barks out a sharp laugh, “You think they’ve got a Sharon Carter in the unit across from you?”

“Oh I’m sure of it, the guy in the unit across from me is definitely an agent,” you snark at him. “He’s doing a real good job at pulling off the frail look thought, especially with the hourly cig breaks and the toothpick arms, I’m sure they think I’d never suspect.” You laugh.

“But really, Sam, most of the people in the building are suits, along with a few agents that I know of.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they keep a close eye on you, being all unpredictable and unsafe like you are.” He jabs you in the side and laughs.

“I’m telling you they’ve got it all wrong!” you laugh. “Alright this is me,” you wiggle your key into the knob and open the door.

“Kick off your shoes and relax wherever, I’m going to see what I’ve got in the kitchen.” You wandered into the kitchen to find something to whip up.

It didn’t take Sam long at all to get comfortable. He quickly cozied into the second-hand brown leather couch situated in the living room parallel to your kitchen. The man was barely awake when you got to him with a plate of food.

The two of you sit next to each other and eat on the old couch. It doesn’t take long until someone suggests that they find something to watch on television, and not long after you all are watching reruns of the Office.

Both of you laugh wholeheartedly through the episodes and somewhere in between the 4th and 5th episode you begin to notice the glances Sam is giving you. They’re somewhere between sad and longing, and you’re beginning to think he’s going to leave until Sam wraps his hand over your shoulders and pulls you in tight against him. Suddenly it’s like the blip never happened, the snap never happened, and it’s just the two of you, doing what you always do.

You were content with that, being close to him, being immersed in him. Hell, you hoped that the familiar warm musky smell of his cologne would stay on the shirt you were wearing. The two of you had nearly watched a half a season when you really began to get tired. Gently, you tapped his arm, so he’d lift it off your shoulders and asked if he minded if laid down over his lap.

Of course, he obliged and there the two you were just like old times, you half-asleep with your head in his lap and him stroking his fingers through your hair and scratching gently against you scalp.

The sad look he had been giving you earlier had transformed. It was a gentle, mellow, content look now. You could guess he was reminiscing too, just by the look on his face. And you knew for sure he had been reminiscing when leaned down and attached his lips to yours.

There it was, that spark in your chest, that you hadn’t felt in a hell of a long time. Sam Wilson had sparked a little flame your heart again, and you just hoped he’d kindle it.

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x oc #tfatws #sam wilson supremacy #the falcon x reader #god i love sam so much #the falcon fanfiction #fanfiction

[forestwater87]

Last year I finished all my @gwenvidweek​ prompts like a week ahead of time, and that's why they were really good and not rushed. That didn't happen this year, so if this ending seems like it was slapped together by a very tired bean who hasn't eaten dinner yet and it's almost bedtime, that's because it was. Be gentle. 

(I like the title a lot, though.)

Gwenvid Week, Day 2: Exploring/First Aid

“Gwen! David! Look what I found!”

Gwen took a deep breath, forcing her caffeine-jittery nerves to relax. She emphatically did not want to look what Nerris had found, because whatever Nerris found was almost certainly going to mean work for them -- or her, really, since David had such a great talent for fucking off and leaving her with the hard jobs. She’d already unclogged a toilet, lectured the campers about what could and could not be flushed down a toilet, and she had a pile of bills to pay this afternoon, plus a spider had gotten crushed in the pages of her magazine and she couldn’t read about the Kardashians without staring at bug guts.

So, no. She was not in the mood to deal with anyone’s bullshit today.

David jogged past, catching her by the wrist and tugging her along. “Gwen, didn’t you hear Nerris? Let’s go check it out!”

Speak of the bullshit. She sighed and trudged along behind him, dragging her feet as much as she could without him noticing and giving her a speech about how a good attitude leads to good things. She loved her co-counselor, she really did, but her patience with him was pretty thin at the best of times, and today was not what she’d call the best of times.

Nerris led them to the far edge of the campgrounds, where the shore of Lake Lilac turned into algae-slimy boulders before seamlessly transitioning into dense forest. David opened his mouth, clearly gearing up to give her a stern lecture about safety and the buddy system, when she pointed at a dark spot in the brush. “I think it’th a cave,” she said, her voice hushed and awestruck, “but I can’t really tell.”

Part of her wanted to ask Nerris who cares about a stupid cave, but the part of her that’d been a camp counselor for half a decade knew it would take exactly two and a half seconds for Nikki to decide to explore this if she knew about it. “Thanks,” she said instead, giving Nerris an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Don’t tell the others about this, okay? We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Duh.” She rolled her eyes with an uncharacteristic amount of disdain. “None of them are a high enough level to explore a dungeon thith far from a checkpoint.”

Gwen looked to David for help, and he just shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. Thanks again.”

Once she was gone, David tugged a butterfly knife from his pocket -- it was a shimmery iridescent pink, of course -- and carefully stepped toward the cave, balancing carefully on the slick rocks dotting the sandy dirt.

She rolled her eyes. “What’re you gonna do with that, Crocodile Dundee? Give whatever’s living in there a paper cut?”

He turned to face her, pouting. “We need to take a look before we can block it off from the campers. If there are animals living in there --”

It didn’t look big enough for anything to live in there, as far as Gwen could tell. Just the perfect size for a dumbass camper. “Fine, take a look.”

The butterfly knife wasn’t equipped to deal with clearing brush, so she waited for almost ten minutes, watching a squirrel have an existential crisis and generally zoning out. Finally she heard David’s voice: “Oh! Gwen, this is . . . it’s a lot bigger than it seems.”

No way in hell was she going over to take a look, not when she’d just watched David battle his way through. “Neat.”

“I can’t see the end of it!” He emerged from the cave and picked his way back to her. His legs and arms were lined with tiny scratches, and the red pouf of his fringe was beginning to droop. “I think we need to get a better look.”

Oh, great. This was shaping up to be a whole big thing. “Come on, Daniel Boone,” she said with a sigh, turning to head back. “Let’s get you ready to go exploring.”

David couldn’t go alone, obviously. Even if he wasn’t the most accident-prone person on the planet, Gwen had co-taught enough Wilderness Survival camps to know that letting someone go off on their own was a terrible idea. And after his nightmarish experience getting lost in the woods last summer, she wasn’t happy to let him explore this cave at all, let alone by himself. No matter how fine he said he was -- or maybe especially because he insisted he was fine.

Mr. Campbell was the obvious choice, considering his experience, but he was still very much on probation, and if the Millers showed up for one of their surprise inspections before he got back, Gwen would be the one who’d have to explain to angry secret agents why their top prisoner had fucked off into the wilderness.

(It was actually Mr. Campbell who came up with this objection. Even though it was clearly because he’d rather sit in the Mess Hall watching TV than trudging through a dark cave, his logic was totally sound; she suspected he actually got smarter when he was trying to weasel out of something.)

QM volunteered . . . and the less said about that, the better. The short version was a unanimous “No” at varying volumes and degrees of alarm.

Which left . . . Gwen.

Awesome.

“Isn’t this exciting?” David asked, adjusting his backpack as he bounded along at her side. A ceaseless fountain of exuberance, he had a simple pattern of keeping in step with his co-counselor: skipping ahead a few feet, hopping up onto the balls of his feet once or twice to shake out a bit of excess energy, then whirling around and making a quick lap around her before falling into step for half a second, then hurrying ahead again to repeat the entire routine.

It tired her out just looking at him. “David, it’s just looking at a cave. Shine a flashlight in there, make some noise to scare out anything dumb enough to live in there, and then board the damn thing up and never think about it again.”

“I don’t know, Gwen. It looked like it might go pretty deep!” He clasped his hands at his chest, his eyes practically sparkling. “This is a real, honest-to-goodness adventure!”

“Uh-huh.” She was allergic to adventures, unless they involved shirtless human-adjacent dudes. Not that it mattered.

Of course, David was carrying all of the exploring gear Gwen expected would be absolutely useless -- first aid kit, flashlight, food, a goddamn machete of all things -- leaving her to carry the actually important tools they’d be using to close off the cave to camper access. The boards weren’t all that heavy, really, but they were extremely awkward, and anything got uncomfortable to carry when you had to bring it half a mile in the blazing-hot sunlight. Plus she was pretty sure the damn things were giving her splinters, and her fingers were cramping from the uncomfortable and unsteady grip.

David noticed exactly none of this, either due to total obliviousness or a semi-conscious decision not to. “When was the last time you’ve had a chance to explore somewhere new?”

“Uh . . . never?” Okay, so she was obsessed with urban explorer Tumblr pages, but even though her neighborhood was full of abandoned buildings ripe for discovery, Gwen’s sense of self-preservation was way too high to actually check any of them out.

“Golly, really?” He beamed at her, skipping backwards a few feet so he could maintain eye contact. “I’m so honored to be your first!”

Did she want to tell him how that sounded? She deliberated for half a second before deciding god no, she wasn’t having that conversation again; instead she bit back a laugh and mumbled some bullshit about new experiences.

His enthusiasm was like a puppy, and on a good day she thought it was pretty adorable how he could bounce along from disaster to disaster without ever letting it wear him down.

But god, when she was already on her last nerve . . .

“There we are!” He leapt over the straggly line of mossy rocks and began hacking a path through the undergrowth with his machete (which, okay, was more useful than she’d assumed).

Gwen threw down her stack of boards -- they were damp and disturbingly spongy, which was neither improving her mood or her faith in this whole dumb enterprise. Shaking out her arms to try and get rid of the “I was just holding rotten wood” feeling, she then stepped back until she was in the full glare of the sun, closing her eyes, tilting her head back, and pretending she was lying on a lounger by the world’s nicest pool. (Her happy place was essentially the Love Island villa; it had all her favorite things -- beautiful morons, lots of alcohol, functional indoor plumbing, and no kids. A bit basic, but she’d made her peace with her own boringness a while ago.)

“Gwen! Let’s go!”

And there went her happy place. She groaned, opening her eyes. David was wrestling his backpack off, trying to simultaneously dig through it and mostly flailing like an idiot.

She sighed, unbuckling the toolbelt around her waist and letting it drop onto the pile of boards. “Remind me why we can’t just block the mouth of this cave off and get on with our very busy day?” she snapped.

“Because there might be something living in there,” he said, tilting his head to the side and crossing his arms -- his bag forgotten at his feet. “We don’t want to trap it inside!”

Even Gwen had to admit she felt a little squeamish about potentially leaving some cute little furry creature to starve to death in the darkness. But that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. “God, fine. Let’s just get this over with and --”

As she crossed the beach toward David’s makeshift path, her foot landed on a patch of slick algae; her ankle buckled and she collapsed with a yelp, her knee scraping the side of the rock as she went down.

“Fuck,” she hissed, scrambling away from the stupid rocks and assessing the damage. Nothing dire -- her ankle was a little twingey but nothing was sprained or broken, and the scratch on her knee looked worse than it was thanks to the grimey green staining her skin from the algae -- but it was just painful enough to piss her off. “Great start.” She climbed to her feet and brushed herself off. “Super fucking -- what’s the word? Auspicious? Yeah, totally auspicious omen right there.”

“Gwen?” He was watching her anxiously, either because of the blood staining her sock or because she was muttering to herself like a crazy person. He fumbled in his bag and pulled out the cookie tin that housed one of their First Aid kits. “Gee, are you okay? That looked like a rough fall!”

The last thing she needed was David squawking around her like a mother hen. And for some reason, the thought of smoothing one of their cutesy bandaids over her stupid knee and spending the rest of the day looking down at Mikey Mouse’s dumb face (the ripoff bandaids were cheaper than the real Disney ones) irritated her more than just leaving it. “It’s fine,” she said, smearing away the worst of the blood and dirt with the heel of her hand and wiping it off on her already-stained sock. “It’ll stop in a minute anyway.”

He didn’t reply, but his face was like a neon billboard most of the time, and right then it was flashing the words, “I wish you wouldn’t do that, but you’re way too scary in this mood so I’m not going to say anything.” If her cut got infected, she’d be treated to the smuggest “I told you so” in history.

But that was a risk she was willing to take, because stopping and asking him for a band-aid now would be even worse. “Are we going spelunking or what?” she asked, forcing something resembling enthusiasm into her voice. Judging by the strange, slightly horrified look he gave her, she wasn’t pulling it off well, so she dropped the front with relief. “Let’s get it over with already.”

---

The mouth of the cave reminded Gwen of the hole the White Rabbit led Alice through, in that it was small, slippery, and way longer than she’d initially thought.

And that she fell down it.

It was only about ten feet, to be fair, but it was ten feet down a steep incline lined with muck (and one exposed root that she was positive left a bruise on her butt), and the bottom was just a big mud puddle, swarming with buzzing flying bugs. And she landed ass-first into the puddle, after sliding ass-first down into the cave, and in general neither she nor her ass were having a very good expedition so far.

“Be careful,” she called up, frowning at the hole ten feet up and wondering if she could possibly climb back the way she’d come. She didn’t have the survival skills to be a mole person, she just knew it. “It’s really sli --”

“Whoa!” David breezed past her, skidding down the incline with his arms out to the side like a surfer and coming to a graceful stop a few feet away, kicking up a small wave of puddle-water that somehow didn’t get splash back onto him. He turned back to her, beaming, and untied the end of a rope from his belt. “Thanks for the warning, Gwen!” he said, and she realized the rope led back up out of the cave. “Though I wish you’d waited until after I secured the rope to come down here -- but I guess you were just too excited to get adventuring, huh?” There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his face and voice.

That fucker.

“How . . .” She gestured at him; between the two of them, he should’ve been the one bleeding and covered in mud! He was the clumsiest person she’d ever met, and here he was looking like a Generic Hiking Magazine cover. “How?”

David didn’t seem to notice her question, looking around the cave with his hands on his hips. “This is even bigger than it looked from the surface,” he said admiringly, nodding to himself. “It looks like it keeps going that way! Here we go!” He took her hand and dragged her toward the back of the cave, each step sending water sloshing against her legs and soaking through her boots.

The mud made an obscene sucking sound as they walked through it, clinging to their boots like quicksand and only letting go reluctantly. It was damp and dark, the anemic yellow light of David’s flashlight flickery and unstable, darting around at a speed that made her feel kind of sick. Once she lifted her hand to brush some hair out of her face and touched something furry that was hopefully moss but probably a bat. And the ground kept sloping down, forcing them to lean back to keep their footing and creating the dizzying illusion that they were making their way deep into the center of the earth.

All in all, zero out of ten on the Camp Campbell Cave Tour, as far as she was concerned.

David, of course, was having a great time. “Isn’t this beautiful? We don’t usually get to experience nature like this, but life exists in so many different forms in the forest, even if it’s not green and sunny! It’s great to get a chance to see a new perspective, don’t you think?”

“Hnnh.” (She realized a few minutes in that he didn’t need encouragement to keep talking, and would carry on whether she was listening or not. Mostly the vaguely-affirmative noises were to make sure her voice muscles didn’t atrophy as they continued their eons-long underground journey.)

“I don’t think I’ve had a chance to explore a cave like this since Jas -- in a good long while! Not since I myself was a Camp Campbell camper.”

“Mmn.”

“You know, I sometimes wish --” He cut himself off with a gasp, the flashlight jerking in his hand before he steadied it. “Wow, a fork! That’s exciting. Which way do you want to check first?”

He had to be kidding. “‘Which way’?” she repeated, snatching the flashlight from him and angling it so they could see each other’s faces. “How about we don’t go wandering into a goddamn maze and get lost with -- oh, let me check --” She pulled her cellphone out of her damp, grimy pocket and waved it around above her head. “-- yep, no signal? Instead let’s just assume there’s nothing living here, because we’ve been walking for almost half an hour and seen literally zero signs of life, and go back to the real world, with sunshine and fresh air and a hundred percent less bat shit. Which fucking way, David? The only way that definitely won’t get us killed: the way back!”

He grinned, shaking his head; normally she thought he had a nice smile, but right then it made her skin crawl. “Now, Gwen, I don’t think you’re really embracing the Camp Campbell spirit of adventure.” He took her wrist and gently tugged her toward the fork. “How about we go left and --”

“Goddamn it, David!” She yanked her hand back, stepping out of his reach. “You’re not even listening toooaaaagh!”

The cave floor had firmed up as they walked, the mud replaced with uneven stone and stagnant pools they had to step or even jump over, and as she moved away she stepped into one of these pools, her foot gliding for half a second on the slimy edge before plunging into the water. The pool was surprisingly deep, freezing groundwater closing in up to her hip -- until she toppled over and skidded several inches down, her entire right side scraping against the rocky wall of the pool. At its deepest point the pool was too narrow for both feet, so Gwen found herself half-crouching in icy black water up to her chest, one leg touching the bottom and the other bent and braced against the wall like a flamingo; her arms were still above the water, holding onto the edge for dear life, and the splash from her fall had soaked her hair, several strands of which had escaped her ponytail and were dangling dripping in front of her face.

For a moment the only sound was her ragged breathing. Then she looked up at David, who was watching her in frozen shock, and jiggled her nearest arm as well as she could without losing her precarious balance. “A hand?”

“Oh!” He hurried over and took both her arms, hauling her out of the water like a ragdoll -- which would’ve been impressive if he hadn’t accidentally dragged her against the wall of the pool pulling her up. When she looked down, the front of her clothes were black with stringy slime. “Are you all right?”

“Peachy,” she snapped, twisting to see how badly she’d hurt herself. The entire outside of her leg was covered in slime as well, and when she wiped it away pain lanced through her like her fingertips were made of sparks. She recovered the flashlight from where it’d landed a few feet away and shone it on herself; her calf was mostly protected by her boots (which were basically ruined now), but from the knee up, her outer thigh was marked by a thick red streak of what looked like road rash, scraped bloody and raw. It stung when she extended or bent her knee, but she’d be able to walk. “Let’s just get the hell out of here and you can board this cave up while I take a nice long shower.”

He frowned. “What? But we haven’t finished exploring yet!”

She opened and shut her mouth a few times, but was struck speechless. “Come again?” she managed after a moment, her voice raspy from disbelief and exhaustion.

David gestured toward the left-hand fork. “What if I went this way and you --”

“Go back to camp? Because that’s the only thing I’m doing right now.” She turned to stomp back the way they came -- and promptly tripped over one of the buckles of her boots, which had come undone sometime between falling in the pool and being pulled out of it; she windmilled her arms desperately, but only served to smack her knuckles against the narrow cave walls before landing face-first on the ground.

She’d barely pushed herself to her knees when David chuckled. “Wow, Gwen, it really hasn’t been your lucky day, has it?”

“That’s IT!” She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain singing down her thigh and blooming, deep and throbbing, where her cheekbone had smacked against the floor. She whirled on him, feeling a vindictive sense of satisfaction as his eyes widened and he took a step back. “We are getting the fuck out of here before anything else goes wrong. No, no -- you know what?” she snapped, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to argue, “Shut the goddamn hell up, David, you’re the entire reason we’re in this stupid mess, so I hope you’ve enjoyed reliving your childhood and this stupid quarter-life crisis is completely fucking out of your system, because today is over, okay?! I’m bleeding, and cold, and wet, and I think I touched a bat earlier and any one of those should’ve been enough for us to go back because a good friend wouldn’t have been so self-absorbed to keep dragging their supposed C-B-F-L --” (she clapped for each letter, raising her voice to speak over the echoes each slap of her wet palms made bounce off the walls) “-- deeper into the pits of hell! But you didn’t notice, because you didn’t care, because you were having too damn good a time pretending to be six years old again -- but you know what? You’re a fucking adult, and you wouldn’t know how to be responsible if your fucking LIFE depended on it --”

“Gwen --” he began, eyes darting around with alarm, but she ignored him. Her throat was starting to hurt from yelling, but it felt good, too, the kind of pleasurable burn that came from a killer workout, and goddamn if her voice didn’t deserve a workout right now.

“You are the WORST camp counselor I’ve EVER seen, and the WORST friend I’ve EVER HAD, and I am SO! DONE! Dealing with your complete and utter -- childish -- stupid -- selfish -- BULLSHIT!”

The last word came out as a scream, possibly the loudest she’d ever given, tearing her vocal cords bloody and making her ears ring. As the sound ricocheted around the cave, the walls seeming to shake and groan with the force of it, she slumped her shoulders and dropped her chin, taking a full breath for the first time since before she fell in the water.

And it was a good thing she took that breath, because she had exactly one second before David lunged forward, grabbing her hand with a shout and yanking her toward him.

“Gwen!”

There was a massive crack, and then the sky fell down around them.

---

For a few minutes all she could do was curl up on the ground and cough, the air so thick with dust it felt like a pillow filled with ashes pressed against her face. When it had settled enough that she could inhale without choking, she pushed herself to her knees, ignoring the way both of them shrieked in pain from her half-dozen various falls, and tried to look around.

“David?” she said, rubbing dust out of her eyelashes and tearing up from the sting. The flashlight had gone out, and she was in complete darkness. “David?!”

“Over here.” His voice came from her left, faint and trembling. “The flashlight isn’t working.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” She crawled over in his direction, sucking in pained breaths with each movement. “Are you okay?”

There was a slight rustling, very close. “I think I dinged my wrist a little bit,” he said, a weak echo of his usual brightness but still a valiant effort, “but otherwise no worse for the wear!”

Her hand hit canvas, and after a few seconds of sightless probing she realized it was his backpack. “Is there a spare flashlight in here?” she asked, already fumbling with the zipper.

“Front pocket. No -- that’s my front. When I’m wearing it. It’s actually the back pocket.”

Eventually she found it, and the sudden brilliance was almost painful. The first thing the light fell on was their path back.

Or more specifically, not their path back. “Oh my god.”

The way they’d come was completely caved in.

She flicked her light all over the wall of boulders, trying to see a crack that might be a way out, but there was nothing. “Oh no, oh god -- no, no, no . . .”

“Gwen,” David said softly.

She tossed the flashlight to the ground and drew her knees to her chest, putting her head between them and trying to breathe. “Oh my god, we’re gonna die here. We’re trapped and we’re gonna die and it’s my fault, I always thought I’d kill myself but never on accident -- ”

“Gwen,” he snapped, louder and stern like she was a disobedient camper. “That’s not funny.”

She lifted her head to stare at him incredulously, because of course it wasn’t funny, nothing was funny because they were dying. But her eyes landed on his wrist, cradled against his chest with his other arm. It was purplish-brown almost all the way down to his elbow, and starting to swell badly enough that he couldn’t bend it. “Oh my god, David!”

“It’s fine,” he said defensively, pulling it closer and then letting out a little shriek of pain. “I landed on it funny, that’s all.”

“We’ve gotta wrap that up.” She grabbed the flashlight and dug through their backpack until she found the cookie tin, popping it open with one hand and reaching for his wrist with the other. “Here, give me --”

“No, I’m --” He tried to wriggle away, but he was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him so his mobility was limited.

She grabbed his good arm and scooted closer, balancing the first aid tin on his lap. “Stop being stupid and hold this.”

He acquiesced with a huff, turning his face away as she wrapped the sprain. The only splints they had were for fingers, but she taped a few together and declared it good enough, at least for starving to death in a cave. “I wish we had some ice,” she said once it was done, popping out a couple painkillers and holding them out to him. “Can you swallow these dry?”

“There’s water in the middle pocket,” he said, still not looking at her, and she handed him the water bottle and the pills. After an uncomfortable moment of silence he added, “How’s your leg?”

She shrugged, suddenly tired. “Does it matter?” She pulled out her phone to check again for a signal, but apparently it’d had just as bad a day as her because it was completely dead. Hopefully David would let her look up how to undo water, mud, and impact damage on his phone when they got back to camp. Slumping down next to him with a sigh, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and prepared for the sweet release of death.

The sweet release of death was interrupted by a loud metal clattering, and she opened her eyes to see David scooching on his knees to her other side, then trying to pry open the first aid kit one-handed.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to be a good friend,” he muttered, jumping as the lid suddenly popped open. “Lay down on your side, please.”

Gwen lowered herself to the ground, shivering as the cold stone pressed her wet clothes against her skin. A moment later there was a soft thump as he draped a sweatshirt over her like a blanket. “Thanks.” His only response was a quiet huff, the fingers of his good hand deftly cleaning her wounds, and all of the anger building up that day collapsed in on itself. “I’m sorry I said all that stuff.”

He shrugged, and she couldn’t tell if he was deliberately avoiding eye contact or if he was just intently focused on patching her up. (It was more her area of expertise, thanks to half a nursing degree she’d acquired in 2014. Plus he only had 50% of his usual hands.) “Why? You meant it.”

“Hey, take the apology and don’t be a brat about it.” Which was probably the worst way to conclude an apology, but she figured she deserved extra leeway on the grounds that she was buried alive.

Sighing, he sat back on his heels and snagged the gauze. “You’re right, Gwen,” he said, winding it around her knee; she held out her hand and let him position it so he could continue wrapping up her leg. “I should’ve had us turn back sooner. I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good friend to you today.”

“I’m used to it.” He flinched and she realized how that sounded. “I mean, you’re really passionate about stuff. That’s a good thing.”

“And it always ends so well for everyone,” he replied with uncharacteristic sarcasm, gesturing to their surroundings.

She rolled her eyes and waited as he finished, sitting back up. “For what it’s worth,” she said, feeling stupid even as the words left her mouth, “I wouldn’t pick anyone else to die in a cave with.”

David frowned. “Are you saying you want me to die?”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, I changed my mind. I wanna trade you out for David Boreanaz.”

“You want to spend your last hours on earth being rejected by the guy from Buffy?”

That startled her into laughing, and she pawed at the air with a meow. “Does imminent death always make you this catty?”

“Only when my wrist hurts,” he muttered, digging through the backpack, but a little smile played at the corner of his lips.

Gwen figured if there was any time for an olive branch, this was it. “How about this: if I ever had to spend my last hours being rejected by a guy named David while we died together in a cave, I’m glad it’s you.” It seemed to take him a second to parse that sentence, but she chose to blame it on him being delirious from pain and not because she worded it badly. (She was great at wording things, and there were tens of readers on Ao3 to prove it.)

“What makes you think I’d reject you?”

He said it quickly, absently, and in the moment it took her to absorb what he said he seemed to hear it himself, looking up at her with something like horror in his expression.

“That -- I didn’t -- !”

She tried to muster up an appropriate response and came up short. “Huh?”

“I don’t know why I said that,” he said quickly, holding up his hands like she was brandishing a weapon at him. “It was a joke, I’m sorry.”

“Those two sentences don’t work together.”

“Say, did you know we have three different kinds of granola bars?” He pulled them out of the backpack and waved them like a magic trick. “Which flavor is your favorite?”

There was no way she was letting him get away with that, especially when her waterlogged brain was still struggling to connect the dots. “Were you saying you want me to hit on you?”

“I think I like peanut butter best, but it sure does make you thirsty so it’s not good unless you have something to drink with it!”

“David.” She leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze (and nearly getting hit in the nose with a granola bar as he inelegantly threw it toward her).

“I do enjoy mixed berry, though . . .”

She didn’t know what to do, so she relied on a trope all her favorite romances used and pulled him into a kiss. He squeaked against her mouth, going still and unyielding, but after a moment his mouth softened against hers -- not really kissing her back, but enough of a relaxation to send a shiver through her.

When she pulled back he was staring at her with big eyes, deathly pale and streaked with dust and sweat. (And really, she should’ve known she was screwed every single time he looked like total shit and she was still attracted to him.) “W-hy did you do that?” he asked, his voice wobbling like he was going to cry.

She shrugged, trying not to look like her heart had just dropped into her stomach from that heartbreaking little wobble. “Maybe because I felt like seizing the day, if this is gonna be one of the last ones I get,” she said as lightly as possible. “Or maybe it’s because I’ve wanted to do that for longer than I realized and finally got the balls to go for it.”

(It was the second one, but she didn’t wanna make it too easy for him.)

He swallowed hard, looking down at the ground before hesitatingly, flinchingly meeting her eyes. “But you were so mad at me,” he said, then gestured toward her leg with his good hand. “And I’m the reason you’re hurt. Why would you want . . .”

“I got you back,” Gwen replied. “And then some, so I think we’re pretty even.” He just stared at her, doubt etched into every line of his face, and she wanted to kiss him so she did. And this time he sighed, a little dreamy one she’d never heard before instead of his usual “I’m irritated but trying very hard not to show it” sigh, and forgiving him was instantly, impossibly easy. “But seriously,” she said, pulling away just enough to talk, “you’re gonna have to do some serious groveling if we get out of this alive.”

David’s smile caught the light, warm and sparkling like his eyes. “I can do that!”

“You were a dick today.”

He pressed his lips together, looking torn between smiling and giving her a disapproving frown. “I wasn’t as considerate as I should’ve been.”

“Close enough.” She started to stand up -- might as well make an effort to survive; her monkey ancestors were probably watching her and yelling -- but he put his hand on her arm.

“I really am sorry, Gwen.” He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it absently as he looked away from her. “I don’t want to be that kind of person. And I don’t want you to have to spend time with that kind of person. So I’ll do my best to be more . . . thoughtful. And observant. Of your needs.”

Less of a dick, you mean. He didn’t quite stick the landing, but it was still one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to her -- in no small part because she could count on one hand the number of times David had willingly admitted being wrong about something. “I’ll hold you to it,” she said, covering his fingers with her own. “Every time you’re a dick I won’t kiss you, how’s that sound?”

“And when I’m not . . . um, so unpleasant to be around?”

There was only one way to answer that, so she did. “How do you feel about cave sex?” she asked as she broke the kiss, enjoying the way he jumped like she’d poked him with a cattle prod. “Because if my last time is faking an orgasm in the bathroom of a Chipotle -- that’s depressing even for me.”

David climbed to his feet, holding out his hand to help her up. “It’s not going to be,” he said, the sudden bright determination in his voice jarring in their little rock prison. Just as she was trying to figure out how she felt about having injured cave sex with Camp Counselor David at his most camp-counselor-est (surprisingly okay with it), he added, “We’re getting out of here.”

---

It took three hours to find another way out of the cave, according to David’s phone. That was too damn long for Gwen and her abused legs, but he cheerfully reminded her how fortunate they were not to have to stay in there overnight, as well as to have emerged in a part of the forest he recognized, and that things could’ve been much worse if they’d taken the right fork instead of the left.

(He was very proud of himself for having picked the correct path on the first try. He insisted it had to do with wind currents and the slope of the cave floor, but she thought it was just a lucky guess.)

“Thank god,” Gwen said as they approached the shore of Lake Lilac. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see a pile of crappy boards in my entire life.”

David was already heading down the beach when he realized she wasn’t beside him and turned back. “What’re you doing?” he asked, watching her bend down and loop the toolbelt around her waist.

“You go ahead,” she replied, grunting as she hoisted a board across the mouth of the cave. “I plan on never coming back here for the rest of my life, and there’s no way in hell I’m risking any of our brats getting stuck in the hell-cave.”

He returned anyway, and there wasn’t much he could do with only one arm but he helped her as best as he could. And those quiet minutes of everyday, boring camp-counselor duties convinced Gwen that this -- whatever this was -- it was worth trying to make work.

“You do know we’ll have to block off the other entrance, right?”

She groaned. “Die in a fire, David.” He laughed as she grabbed the remaining boards and followed him to where they’d escaped the cave, and he made her laugh as she nailed the boards in place, and as they walked back to camp he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and it was nicer than anything Gwen could remember in a while.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvid #cc gwen #cc david #gwenvidweek #gwenvidweek2020 #forestwriting #writers aren't supposed to say they don't like their work but uhhhhhh #oops

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

After The Dawn

Hello, hello! I am indeed still around, and sometimes even do non-work-related stuff. About, oh, 2 years ago, this got sent in as a prompt, so have a little 4 times + 1 thing, for the occasion of me processing my recent DS9 comfort-rewatch (by which I of course mean “mostly spending a lot of time gazing adoringly at Kira Nerys and crying”). As far as I recall, I’ve never actually posted anything from my giant decade plus WIP pile of Trek stuff, so this is a first - I hope it doesn’t disappoint.

The prompt was “five different sunlights”. So here are five snapshots of Kira Nerys from joining the resistance to DS9 and beyond, ~4400 words. Veers into Kira/Jadzia because I’m hilariously predictable. Also includes brief appearances by (in order): Lupaza, Furel, Shakaar, Damar, Garak, Kaksidy, and Jake. Mentions of several others.

Contains discussion of the occupation of Bajor and canon character deaths, but nothing explicit I can think of to warn about.

---

After The Dawn

1. 2356

The raid was long over but her fingers still shook – cold, always because of the cold, never from fear. Every so often they would twitch more decisively, as if recalling the sensation of the phaser rifle she was just barely big enough to hold jerking to life in her grip. But then they’d travel to her right ear of their own accord, tracing the lines of her new earring. A proper d’ja pagh all of her own, with the symbol of the Kira family emblazoned in the metal – echoing the beautiful engraving she’d always admired on her father’s. 

Lupaza had worked through the night to make it for her, by the feeble light of one of their few still-working heaters, with skill that seemed otherworldly to Kira (who, though by far the youngest among them, knew better than to ask about anyone’s life before joining a resistance cell). Lupaza, who had looked at the scrawny thirteen-year-old hanging around their camp, and who’d chosen to believe in her, and speak up for her. Who’d presented her handiwork to ‘their newest member’ at sunrise, during the change of guard at the mouth of their current cavern hideout, letting the winter light glimmer on its silvery surface for all to see. And Kira had beamed at her, not caring about who’d been around to witness it or how young it may have made her look. 

I’m in the Resistance, she wanted to shout over and over again until the reality truly set in, flooded and near-overwhelmed by the newfound sense of belonging and pride and brightly burning defiance mixing in her chest.

Again and again her fingers went – over the cuff hugging the shell of her ear snugly, down the single deceptively delicate chain, to the simple but beautiful main piece. She could almost believe it was still warm to the touch, heated by the orange-glow burn of Bajor’s atmosphere on Cardassian hull metal – made from stolen Bajoran ore, mined with stolen Bajoran labour. It was only right and just that it be returned this way. The rest of the beritium hull salvage they’d stripped from the ship would be used for lining the walls of their hideout, shielding them from sensor sweeps and the bite of the winter cold alike. But this small bit of it was a shield all Kira’s own.

It was a comforting presence, a slight but grounding weight with a depth of meaning that its size belied. Lupaza smiled at her fascination and distraction every time she happened to pass by, promising she’d get used to it. Furel agreed, for once without a trace of a joke in his voice, and slapped a hand on her bony shoulder with a gruff: “You’ve more than earned it, kid.” 

Shakaar himself, in between whatever it was his leaderly duties entailed, took a moment to consider her. “It suits you,” was all he said on the matter, though if he meant the earring or the phaser Kira had for the first time stuck in her own belt instead of giving it back after cleaning was anyone’s guess. Then, turning to leave, he added, “Good job out there.”

There was something like sadness behind all of their eyes. Kira chose not to see it, or dwell on it.

She was in the Resistance.

She didn't even know if any of her (many) shots during the ambush had found their mark, but it didn't seem to matter. She could, she would help protect her father and his little garden, scrounged up, cobbled together, but growing. Protect her remaining brother, for the one she had failed to. She would honour her mother, the bravest woman I've ever known, Nerys. She saved us all, at great cost to herself.

Whenever her fingers floated back down and twitched for want of a rifle trigger again, she told herself to be patient. There would be more work for her, more chances to be useful, more chances to prove herself. No more sitting idly by, and no more fear.

-

2. 2369

Even after weeks on the station Kira had yet to manage to sleep through an entire night, but she sincerely doubted it was the bed's fault. Sure, the Cardassian-designed beds in the Cardassian-designed quarters on the Cardassian-designed station left much to be desired, but they certainly beat the ground of a half-frozen cave. And yet here she was, with endless damn bunking arrangements as one of the most frequently brought-up complaints among the crew body. Why and how those PADDs always seemed to end up on her desk was anyone's guess. She'd been prepared for a more administrative role, yes, but…

“The time is oh-six-hundred hours,” the computer helpfully informed her.

Kira huffed, and tossed aside another PADD with a blinking Request denied, then shrugged on her uniform jacket and made to leave her quarters for a quick breakfast.

It was still an odd thought that took getting used to: her quarters – hers alone; a viewport in the bulkhead, allowing her to see the stars and, when the rotation was right, Bajor’s own familiar sun from a very new perspective. Regular meals thanks to Federation engineers patching up Cardassian replicators and whipping them into shape. Shops and eateries opening on the Promenade. The ruinous mess the Cardassians left behind them slowly coming together again into something functional. Kira permitted herself a wry twist of the mouth at the thought – hopefully the planet the station had formerly orbited could manage to do the same.

The discovery of the wormhole brought fascinating, colourful crowds to the station so quickly and in such volumes, she didn't envy Odo at all. Even the small segment of the Promenade she saw on her way from her quarters to the replimat was enough to reinforce, every morning, that this was no longer Terok Nor: grey in every way imaginable, filled with throngs of terrified, beaten-down Bajoran workers and their Cardassian overseers, delighting in the former’s disposability.

The small but lively, chattering crowd in the replimat seemed to underscore all of her thoughts – no more waiting in line for gruel with the exhausted shift that had just left ore processing.

“Good morning!”

Instead, a friendly Federation face. The pattern of spots that ran down the sides of Lieutenant Dax’s face and down her neck was fascinating to Kira still – not Bajoran, and certainly not the grey, flared bony Cardassian necks that had made up most of Kira's world up until not so very long ago. She had to stop herself from staring often, even though, judging by that smirk, the Lieutenant did not seem to mind. She appeared to relish attention in general, of all kinds. Kira ducked her head, and tried to focus on the replicator instead.

“Something wrong? Quark interfering with the menus again?” Dax was right behind her, peeking over her shoulder, eyebrow raised, and smiling. Somehow she always seemed to be doing that.

“Oh, no, nothing like that, thankfully. Still not quite used to this, is all.” She shuffled her feet and made no real move to complete an order.

“Hm. Well, if I may, Major, I’d recommend the raktajino for early morning starts like this.”

“Raktajino?” Kira repeated oafishly, biting back the Early!? her mind had immediately supplied.

“Klingon coffee. Try it – I think you’ll like it.”

Kira was sceptical, but Dax seemed to be very sincere – so after a few button presses she found herself holding a large mug of something hot, dark, and quite thick. She wrinkled her nose and took a sip.

“It’s, uh… strong.”

“Hits the spot, right?”

The crooked, almost sly smile on the Lieutenant’s face was contagious. Kira didn’t even feel like bringing up growing up under an occupation-enforced famine as an excuse for her own lack of a developed or sophisticated palate or culinary taste in general.

The drink did have a real kick to it, and Kira took another sip. “Yeah, it does.”

“Just don’t go overboard with them – let me tell you, I made some grave mistakes there right after I became a host. Curzon,” Dax smirked, shaking her head, then waved at the table they’d found themselves next to. “Mind if I join you?”

Kira thought about it, but only for a moment.

“Not at all, Lieutenant.”

And ah, there it was then, as soon as they sat down: the small, incessant, bitter sting of you knew what they were doing to us and you sat by and did nothing that insisted on making itself known at very inopportune times. It was, however, becoming more bearable by the day and with every individual met, every new reassurance that they were here now, despite everything, to make a good start. Together.

When the Cardassians came they were helpful and charming too, nagged the little voice at the back of her mind. But this couldn’t be like that, and just looking at Dax was enough to… well, perhaps Kira was being a naive fool, but there seemed to be ground to build here, and she found herself willing to try. And after all, she knew she herself was ready to do anything, to lay her life down for Bajor. She just needed to be pointed the right way – or, rather, she needed to be able to point herself the right way. Now that knowing who the enemy was and who the enemy could turn out to be had gotten more complicated. Still, if nothing else: she wouldn’t let it be a repeat of anything, and she was prepared to be a thorn in anyone’s side, Federation or provisional government or otherwise, for as long as was necessary. 

“You seem to be mulling over something grim already. Everything alright?”

The concern was genuine enough, but Kira had no idea how to even begin to explain all of it, even if she’d wanted to.

“Just thinking about some complaints about quarters I need to handle,” she lied smoothly – or what she hoped was smooth, anyway.

Dax caught on, and backed off. Lifetimes of experience to thank – or perhaps Kira was just that easy to read. A transcript of Trakor’s annotated ninth prophecy just waiting on a lectern, as Lupaza would say. 

“Sure. Let me know if I can help.”

“With station admin? Aren’t you a science officer?”

“Absolutely. But it's in all our best interests to get this place running as smoothly as possible as fast as possible, right?”

Kira narrowed her eyes at her, entirely unconvinced. “Right.”

“Fine,” Dax threw her hands up in the air in a very silly, exaggerated gesture, “I admit it, I’m after juicy gossip. There’s bound to be quarter reassignment requests in there! What could be juicier?”

Kira couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, then. “You are ridiculous.”

Dax grinned right back. “Glad to be of help. Let’s get to Ops, you can tell me all about it on the way.”

When Kira got to her feet, both she herself and the entire day – if it could truly be called that on a space station – felt somehow lighter already.

-

3. 2372

It was swelteringly hot under the sun of some new, as of yet unnamed planet, in the midst of a survey mission that had already gone on longer than scheduled. Hardly Kira’s idea of a good – or productive – time. 

The place was an unpleasant dustbowl broken up by stray glass-encrusted rock here and there, and Kira was surrounded by a bunch of bustling, tricorder-armed Starfleet explorer types she would have sneered at, not so long ago – but many of whom she’d now consider fast friends. She’d hardly consider herself an ideal choice for helming this particular mission, but Sisko had been insistent, and so here she was. It would appear that, if nothing else, it gave her time to indulge in reverie – a truly rare occurrence.

The unfamiliar stars of the Gamma Quadrant, unimaginably far from everything she’d ever known, could now be reached within seconds, thanks to the wormhole – more proof of how the Prophets kept looking out for Bajor in sometimes quite unexpected ways. And Kira, as Bajor’s official representative on the mission, was determined to do her best to facilitate and build upon their efforts.

“Take a look at this, Major!” It was Dax calling her over, her tricorder beeping over some bizarre green-magenta form of plant life she found beneath a rocky outcrop a little off the not-so-alien dirt path Kira was stomping down. 

“What've you got for me, Lieutenant?”

“Some kind of elaborate root system stretches on for more than a kilometer underground, running beneath the very acidic soil, with an impressive – and perfectly symmetrical – array of large tubers.”

Kira shot the sensor readings a look. “Huh, could’ve fed a whole resistance cell for an entire winter on nothing but a few of those.”

She frowned as soon as the words left her mouth – Jadzia Dax, decorated Starfleet science officer and dedicated, studious initiate who’d earned the approval of the strict Trill Symbiosis Commission, certainly hadn’t had such prosaic, practical implications of her findings in mind. For a very, very brief moment, Kira felt a sting of embarrassment – but then her mind snapped decisively back into its standard guarded, resolute position: she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Dax, as had somehow become a somewhat frustrating habit of hers, seemed to be able to encompass Kira’s entire internal dialogue with a glance. But somehow she did it… gently, without making Kira feel small or inadequate in any way. No smug Starfleet superiority here, even with all the accumulated bragging rights of all the lifetimes under her belt. And – perhaps most importantly – no trace of pity to be found. Instead, a wellspring of enthusiasm.

“Their composition is interesting, I agree. Starchy, and rich in several key proteins – this has potential for significant contributions to agriculture. I bet Keiko will love to get her hands on this – see what she can set up in one of the hydroponics bays.”

Her smile was as bright as the orange-tinted light of the unfamiliar sun, but Kira took up the challenge of matching it.

Jadzia leaned in, almost conspiratorially, “Help me catalogue it?”

“I, uh, don’t really know what the procedure–”

“No worries, I’ll walk you right through it. It’s fun!” Kira’s scepticism must have been written all over her face. “I swear it is! I’m not just saying that, you’ll see.”

“Not to mention,” Jadzia winked, “it’ll get us under some nice shade and right next to a cooling unit.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“And you love it.”

Kira couldn’t disagree.

-

4. 2375

The weak, grey light of Cardassia Prime’s sun filtered through the slits in the cellar windows – if they could even be called that.

Another very literally bleak dawn. No contact with the Federation. No hope of reinforcements, or extraction, or help of any kind. Negligible chances of news from Deep Space 9, of the fleet, of Odo’s health, of anything at all. And here, far behind enemy lines, Kira and her unlikely comrades presumed dead, their network of allies and carefully-hidden carefully-built-up resources destroyed, all three (three) survivors hidden away in the capital of a people she’d once have termed her worst enemies, relying on the goodwill of an old woman.

Kira, a veteran of hopeless causes, had been in worse spots – but not many.

Whatever Damar’s less… pleasant compatriots had thought, she found no joy in any of it. Not even a flutter of satisfaction at all the irony the situation was positively dripping with. It was enough that it meant that twice now she’d been witness to oppression and destruction on an immense scale – civilisation-ending, one might term it. It was wearing, and wearying, no matter who it happened to.

Would she have cheered for the destruction of Cardassia as little as a handful of years ago? Perhaps, if it would have meant Bajor being left alone. The moral quandary aspect certainly wasn’t something she wanted to be thinking about at the moment.

While the others seemed to still be asleep, Kira lay on her back on one of the thin blankets Mila had provided them, and thumbed almost idly through a list of signals intercepted nearby, identifying potential sabotage targets. There were still things three people with extremely limited resources could do to make themselves useful - or disruptive, depending on your perspective. 

Two Jem’Hadar barracks complexes (a hatchery would be better, and far less dangerous). A comms central (they might not have the proper tools available to make it truly worth the risk). Long-term storage warehouses (they needed to maximise short-term effects on the Dominion occupiers, not minimise the chances of Cardassia’s eventual recovery). Weapons manufacturing plants (tempting security gaps during shift changes, but still far too well-guarded for the three of them to take on alone). A power distribution junction (...remote, potentially high-impact, and definitely worth looking into). Kira made a note to ask Garak for any further details he could muster about it.

She should have, perhaps, been saving her strength, getting what rest she could while she could. Restless, that was what she was, even with all her experience and her awareness that so, so much of a resistance fight was simply spent waiting, biding time. With another brief glance around the murky room, she gave up even the pretense of repose, and got up to stretch her legs and pace out her nerves.

Garak was asleep in his corner, or at least pretending to be. Whatever suited his purposes best.

“Commander,” came a low murmur from the other side of the room: Damar, sitting up on his own improvised bed, very much awake. The Starfleet rank still sounded strange to her, but Kira could appreciate the way Damar made sure to respect it from the start, and never allowed himself a slip. “There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. If you have a moment.”

“Somehow I have both far too much and far too little time these days. What is it?” She asked quietly, stepping closer, though the chances of Garak actually sleeping through whatever their conversation was going to be were negligibly low – as were the chances of him ‘waking up’ before they were done.

“I know it might not make much difference. And I do not ask for your forgiveness, or understanding. But I wanted – no, needed to tell you this. I'm sorry – for what I did to Ziyal.”

Her mood miraculously sank even lower. “For murdering her, you mean,” Kira didn’t even try to hold back the bite, nor had she ever been one for softening any blows.

Damar’s lips twisted. “You are right to call it what it was. Hiding from the truth won’t accomplish anything anymore. I killed her, and I deeply regret it.”

Kira said nothing, and Damar continued. “I’m not asking you for anything, believe me. But I hope… she can become a herald, of sorts. Her presence can live on in our alliance, a spirit of cooperation, and a new dawn for both our peoples.”

It was hardly the first time Damar made her think there could be a future for Cardassia after everything, one of reinvention and coexistence. Even Kira, with her underdeveloped imagination (Jadzia's efforts notwithstanding – ah, there was the stab of that hastily half-handled grief), could let herself imagine it.

Kira nodded, and pursed her mouth. Forgiveness wasn’t something she felt was hers to give, even if she wanted to. Maybe it wasn’t anyone’s.

“Nice speech, Damar,” she said, flatly. Ground out, almost. “It’ll be good for you, to’ve had the practice.” Then, after a moment of consideration of what she was prepared to give: “I hope I'll get to hear you make more of those someday soon. And I hope Cardassia will get to hear them, too.”

It only took another tragically small circle paced before the weight in the room became unbearable. Kira decided to make for their somewhat improvised refresher and what little privacy could be scrounged up – and caught Garak watching her, lying motionless but as alert as ever.

She silently met his eyes, then turned away.

-

5. 2376

The first day of her long-awaited leave dawned beautiful and clear. It seemed a small thing, to be sure – but perhaps the Prophets, prompted by their Emissary, had had a hand in making it so. No matter the reason, the sun shone on a Bajor that was growing prosperous and whole in ways Kira had feared it wouldn’t ever be again. 

The document that had just brought peace to two quadrants of the galaxy was called the Treaty of Bajor. There was talk, increasingly common and growing louder, of reactivating Bajor's suspended Federation membership application, and Kira had been made aware of the validity of her Starfleet field commission and the implications on her future career. The Vedek Assembly would be announcing their choice of the new Kai within the week. The soil beneath her feet was healthy, fertile, fully reclamated and ready for planting. There were now schoolchildren on Bajor who had never lived under the occupation. 

And there was Kira, who had helped liberate it, and hadn’t lived on it since.

This was the first time she’d returned to her home planet after the formal end of hostilities with the Dominion, and all that that had entailed. The light of B’hava’el was strong but not harsh – the same sun Kira had spent most of her life under, but that had never hit her more differently than it felt now. B’hava’el, that she had now seen from so much closer and so much further away – had, in a horrifying, memorable incident, helped prevent the destruction of, even. Her! Not just scrappy little Nerys from the Shakaar resistance cell anymore, small enough to slip through narrow passages in the labyrinthine caves of the Dahkur province and gaps in the Cardassian sensor nets alike.

She was Colonel Kira Nerys, commander of Deep Space 9, and, as a dear lost friend had made sure she was aware a while ago, a public figure in her own right. Ah– her own importance was something she would need to confront some other time, perhaps, right after she somehow went head to head with her grief. Ezri had been dropping some suggestions, in her capacity as a counselor, for all of the senior staff and beyond. It would be foolish not to consider her recommendations, both as the commanding officer and as a friend.  

Kira was well aware she had lost so much and so many. And she could sit down and catalogue the losses on a PADD, like freighter cargo inventory, but what for? She had gained, too, and lost again, and gained yet more. Like waves and eddies, pulling along a lightship on its way through the stars.

“Prophets help me if I try being a poet, too,” Kira mumbled to herself. Maybe she would take up writing tortured metaphors about the Prophets watching over and guiding ancient Bajoran star sailors on their journey all the way to Cardassia, for better or worse. 

A stray breeze toyed with the chain of her earring, carrying the scent of ripening moba fruit, and as she crested the hill, the outline of a house well under construction came into view.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Kasidy asked from just behind her, Jake right at her side, holding her arm.

“Just thinking aloud. Nothing important. Anyway… where did you want to start?��

Her two companions caught up to her quickly enough. The gasps of surprised joy at the sight of all the progress that had been made on the house were by themselves more than worth the trip planetside.

“Well,” Kasidy began, “we have all the plumbing specifications and details all worked out thanks to the local architect you recommended – thanks again, by the way. I think… the kitchen should be first.”

It was an obvious tribute. A longing and anticipation there, too. Kira's heart ached just a bit stronger then, for a beat or two. She nodded, scrolling down a PADD loaded with floor plans and interior concepts. “I know some people who can help with that, too. Ceramics and pottery artisans, and a few others. I’ve got some favours to call in.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kasidy started, but didn’t get too far.

“Yes I do, Kas. We’re going to see this through, and we’re going to see it done properly.”

“Only the best for the Emissary?” Jake asked, pointedly. There wasn’t bitterness there, though Kira would have understood it, and perhaps expected it, from a young man longing for the return of his father. 

“For a dear friend and his family,” Kira corrected. “But – yes, I’m sure they’ll be happy and honoured to contribute. Now, Julian and Ezri will be down with the next transport, just in time to meet us for dinner in the village. We have a few hours to handle things here, check on the progress so far, make notes – any complaints or requests you might have. Remember, I’m here to make sure they listen to you.”

They started down the path into the almost startlingly green valley, Kira catching herself marvelling along the way at the visibility of all the growth and healing made possible by the hard, dedicated work of so many. Who knew what could be in store for an old civilisation of artists, architects, and philosophers, forced to reinvent itself, and the sometimes tenuous connections to vast stretches of heritage that Kira herself had grasped at in various ways for most of her life, born into struggle and desperate, determined rebellion, like so many others. 

Well. Nothing to stop her from trying her hand at poetry, after all.

She felt her lips twist wryly at the private joke – she knew her place and her strengths. And she thought she could say she knew herself, too – precious knowledge, by any accounting. She knew there'd be no rest for her, not really, as long as there was something to be done for Bajor, and for her station, and for her unlikely family, wherever they might end up, scattered among and beyond the stars.

But Kira allowed herself a moment, gazing up in what she imagined might be the direction of the wormhole’s entrance.

#kira nerys #star trek #ds9 #deep space nine #fandom: oath to the prophets #oathkeeper writes things #fanfiction #my fic #this is far from polished but #I'M PROCESSING #bless you angry space wife #always and forever #i'm also gonna tag the #kiradax #though i was using #jadzia x kira #really struggling to properly tag this

[zairapvrker]

Teeth: Vampire!Luke // Chapter 8

Summary: Luke knows the rules and his boundaries, he has respected them for centuries. He knows he should stay as far away as possible from every human on his path. But that was before she came along.

Author’s Note: idek, i just hope exams end soon even though i know it’ll be another month

series masterlist | regular masterlist

It had been silent since she last spoke. Beatrix hadn’t opened her mouth in a long while and seemed determined to keep her eyes - seemingly empty - locked onto the patch of grass right in front of her. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain. 

“So the myths and legends are true” her voice almost felt too loud in the silence that surrounded them and Luke nearly flinched at the sound. He looked at her, sitting with her arms around her body almost as if she wanted to keep herself from falling apart. The only thing telling him how much time had actually passed was the sky tinted with the beautiful colours of the sunset fading away.

“I’ve never encountered many witches if that can help you” he shrugged, his voice surprisingly not betraying the nerves that would’ve made him tremble if he were to be human. “Especially during the witch hunts” 

A distant, small smile made its way on her face, giving Luke some hope. “I should be heading home, I think my mom’s about three seconds away from calling the sheriff” she then said, standing up abruptly as if noticing just then how late it had gotten. The blond stood up as well, disappointment coursing through his veins.

“I’ll walk you” he wasn’t really offering, he would’ve done it anyway, no matter if she protested. Bea looked up at him, and for the first time in centuries Luke couldn’t make out what was hiding behind her hazel eyes. He stood there, dumbfounded, as she flashed him a grateful grin and started walking. Catching up in a millisecond, he walked by her side in silence - not really knowing what to say to her given that he knew things should be different by now,  knowing that she should remember. The town was pretty quiet, people and cars were still running around trying to get home but the silence between the both of them felt heavy with the weight of words left unspoken. 

“It’s alright to break” he found himself saying as they walked up the street her house was at the end of. She was still looking ahead of her, gaze shifting from the trees to the ground beneath her feet. Luke knew from the way her heart was beating that she was close to losing it, yet she still had so much to discover, and he couldn’t think of a better word of advice. Bea simply nodded, finally looking at him again just as they reached her house.

“Thank you, Luke” her voice was still quiet, just above a whisper. 

“I need you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll be here” Luke smiled back, yet again attempting to comfort her as best as he could. She was quick to look away from the intense blue of his eyes. In an inexplicable surge she let her hand shoot towards his, holding it in hers and intertwining their fingers. 

“Please don’t let me fall” she whispered, looking at their hands.A bright smile opened up on the vampire’s face. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Beatrix” The girl took in a sharp breath of surprise, her whole body stiffened, and finally she let their eyes meet again.  “How do you know my full name?”

“I think that that’s for me to know and for you to find out” he smirked earning a soft giggle back: a small victory in his heart. Bea let his hand go and started taking small steps back, looking at him until she disappeared behind the door. 

“Do you know how worried I’ve been, young lady?” Luke knew he shouldn’t have stayed behind to listen to her mother’s scolding, but it was stronger than him. “You could’ve told me you were going out to see your boyfriend, or you could’ve snuck out like every other teenager does, and let me live in blissful ignorance till you came back!” he smirked. Boyfriend. He could perfectly picture Bea’s shocked face and blushed cheeks. “He’s not my boyfrie- Where you spying on me?!” a low chuckle escaped him as he started to walk away, their bickering keeping him company until he was out of ear shot. 

-

Storming up to my room I tried to put behind me the yelling match that had just taken place in the living room, more important and pressing matters instantly coming back to mind. Luke was a vampire. Rubbing my face with a little too much force, I started pacing around my room whilst trying to get a grip on what really was reality. A vampire. Snickering in disbelief, I sat down on the edge of my bed, letting the thought marinate in my head until it stopped feeling like something out of “Twilight” and found its place into my reality. Somehow it wasn’t too difficult. I fell back onto the soft sheets of my bed, my hands were quick to come up to my head, fingers getting lost in my hair and pulling lightly at the strands. If I thought too much about the fact that I knew – had known? – a vampire an incredulous laugh would still spill right out of my lips. It felt like going crazy, trying to justify the existence of a myth into my life. The world even. What baffled me the most, aside from the fact that apparently supernatural beings existed, was a more personal matter. Something that probably only had to do with me, with us: how was it possible that through every lifetime of mine Luke would come and look for me, with the knowledge of it ending as badly as it did? Now that he’d found me, would I be doomed like every other time? How was it possible that every time he found me he’d risk it all just for love? That last word echoed in my mind, bouncing left and right. There was something else I needed to know, to find out. 

The next day at school I patiently waited for my friends to gather in our spot in front of the building, usually we’d converse until the bell rang and then reluctantly make our way to class, however today I was faced with a rather different sight.

“Hello” Luke appeared out of nowhere, his voice taking me by surprise and making me drop my notes.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that!” I slapped him on the arm lightly, probably causing zero real harm and bowed down to pick up my notebook. 

“Sorry” he let out an airy laugh, watching as I faced him again. He smirked as my eyes narrowed, clutching my notebook closer to me.

“You’re not” I sad then, his smirk only widening at my words.

“You’re right” the blond shrugged simply, then seemed to be distracted for a second, listening to something else. 

“Well, I better get going, your friends are making their way over” his lips formed a little smile and he seemed to debate, very quickly, his next move. “Have a good day” was the last thing Luke said before walking towards the school entrance, leaving me dumbfounded. 

He was right, though, when he mentioned my three friends coming. Soon enough they were in front of me, Michael and Calum seemingly wrapped up in a discussion of their own and Ashley just looking at them in mild desperation. 

As soon as her eyes landed on me however, a knowing grin made its way onto her lips.

“So” she started, dragging the o for a little. “What was Hemmings doing here?” she wiggled her eyebrows, making me inwardly roll my eyes.

“Saying hi and wishing me a good day” I simply shrugged, not seeing the point in lying.

“Sure, sure” she nodded, not convinced, when finally the two boys decided to include us in their discussion over which answer was the right one for our Maths homework, the only class the four of us had together. From then on, waiting for the bell to ring but also on our way to class, we started throwing around our answers, debating and going over every passage of the problem. 

Turns out, none of us had got it right and Calum even received a disappointed look from our teacher the second he’d tried to explain our misplaced calculations.

“I won’t miss this pathetic excuse of a subject one bit” he sighed, still enraged, as soon as the four of us stepped out of the classroom, earning giggles and nods of agreement.

“She could’ve at least been nice about it! Her job is literally to teach us, not yell how much of a disappointment we are” Ashley added, still fuming about her own interaction with the teacher over homework. 

“Well, it is eight in the morning for her, too” shrugged Michael, earning pointed looks from the rest of us. Dragging Calum away before he could start yelling again, this time his frustration directed towards the green-eyed boy, I laughed lightly watching a little colour flow back into the blond’s cheeks – clearly afraid of his friend’s temper.

“See you later!” I waved towards them walking towards the Physics classroom, the blue haired boy following and muttering under his breath. 

As we walked in and I took my seat behind Calum’s, I noticed that Luke wasn’t here yet. Since when do you notice? – asked the other part of my brain, quickly shushed as the blond in question walked into the door and shot me a wink as he walked by me. Calum was quick to turn around and face me with slightly widened eyes.

“When did Hemmings start to wink at you?” he asked in a whisper, leaning in close, still I knew the vampire would be listening. Or could he? Had I watched too many shows?

“He doesn’t” I opted for, but my friend only raised a brow at that. 

“Fine, I don’t know” I groaned quietly in mild irritation. 

“Now turn around!” I folded my arms over my chest as Calum put his hands up in surrender, giggling. Snickering I turned around myself, searching for Luke’s eyes – which of course were on us. “I heard that” he mouthed at me gaining an eye roll, but also making me blush lightly. Before I could think too much about the latest interaction, the teacher finally walked into the classroom demanding everyone’s attention.

The rest of the day went by easily, except every time I had to suffer through the sneaky remarks of my friends about the blond vampire. Luke was definitely up to something, always making sure to pass by me in the hallways, saying “hi” every time and even winking, at times. It felt like the heat that rushed to my cheeks whenever he did these sort of thins would never go away. 

“You know” started Michael as we were making our way to Calum’s car after the insufferable day spent at school. “I think you should really go over and talk to him” he nodded towards the other end of the small school’s parking lot, making all of our heads turn to see Luke standing there, busy with his phone. 

“Yeah, he’s been parading around you all day today” agreed Ashley, her knowing grin ever present. 

“He winked at her in Physics” added Calum.

“He winked at her all day” deadpanned Michael, making everyone giggle except me. I gave him a pointed look, but he just shrugged with a smile.

“Alright, I’ll go, but just to make you lot shut up” raising my hands in surrender I started walking backwards towards the subject of our discussion, earning a quiet cheer from the trio. 

“Ask him how’s his eye!” exclaimed my green-eyed friend, making everyone laugh and eliciting a groan for me. I seriously doubt his eye is anything less than perfectly fine. 

As I turned to face Luke still cringing at the quiet hollers coming from my friends, which followed my through the emptying parking lot, I noticed his small amused smile.

“Just to make them shut up?” he asked once I was closed enough, I rolled my eyes- again.

“Yes” I nodded. “What was all of that today?”

“All of what?” he feigned ignorance, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as he started walking towards the exit. I followed mirroring his action, although I doubted he hid his hands because he was shivering from the cold. 

“You know what” I lightly elbowed him, a little taken aback by the sudden urge to be this familiar with him.

“Well, I was just saying hi to my friend” he turned his head to look down at me due to the height difference between us. “And I rather like seeing you blush” he added, a Cheshire cat-like grin stamped on his lips. Now that he’d said it, there was no way I was going to be able to maintain a straight face or stop the heat from rushing to my cheeks. “Beautiful” he murmured still looking at me. 

Completely overwhelmed by his words, I steered the conversation into an entirely different direction. “So what happens now?” I asked, he raised a brow as if encouraging me to explain myself better. “What happens now that you’ve found me again?” I clarified, the question had rung in my head all night barely allowing me to get any shut-eye time. 

Luke looked tense, clearly familiar just as much as me with what could happen, and shrugged. “I’ll go to any length to keep you safe” he’d stopped walking, looking at me with such intensity I had no trouble believing the words he said. I nodded, resuming our walk.

“Where are we going?” the question almost came out of my mouth on its own, having danced around my mind for a little while.

“Do you trust me?” he asked back, offering me his hand to hold. It took less than a second for my brain to think of the answer.

“Yes” and I grasped his hand in mine.

tag list: @assumeimapenguin @rose-coloredmind @keithseabrook27

#luke hemmings #luke robert hemmings #Vampire!Luke #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings fluff #vampire au #vampire!au #vampire #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings oneshot #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings 5sos #luke hemmings 5 seconds of summer #luke 5 seconds of summer #luke 5sos #luke 5sauce #luke au #luke hemmings au #5sos teeth #teeth 5sos #calum hood #michael clifford #ashton irwin #fanfic #ff #fic #fanfiction

[violetwolfraven]

Touch x5

No one asked for this but y’all can’t stop me. Basically 3 people who experience the Newsies habits involving physical touch, (and why specific individuals touch each other) 1 who is reintroduced to it, and 1 who completely misreads what it means.

Warnings: Uh... period-typical homophobia/internalized homophobia, referenced physical abuse, PTSD, brief mentions of injuries I guess?

...

x1

Les thought the atmosphere that was created by most or all of the Manhattan Newsies (plus a couple of Brooklyn boys, occasionally) was exciting.

He’d always had friends back in school, but his old buddies weren’t like this. They didn’t randomly jump up against a building to vault off it and do a backflip just to hear the cheers and laughter of their friends. They didn’t check each other over carefully whenever someone was hurt. They didn’t take a second to stop and ask if you were okay if you did anything that indicated you might be sad.

But mostly, Les’s old friends didn’t touch each other as much as his new ones did.

Back in school, it had always been ‘hands to yourself,’ except when they were playing tag or football. But with the Newsies, it was a constant stream of friendly touches. Les was always getting his hair ruffled or his shoulder squeezed or his arm punched in a friendly way and he loved it. He even loved the way one Newsie would take his hat off so another could slap him with theirs if he said something stupid.

Les was well aware that in school, it wasn’t that way because... well, that would be weird. You didn’t just sling your arm around your friend for an entire conversation or jump on their back and cling there until there was a risk of falling over just to surprise them. You just didn’t.

But you did with the Newsies. You didn’t question it. You just did.

Les thought it might be about the way everyone reacted after the strike, when everyone was in pain and those who were in a little less were helping those who were in a little more. Les vaguely remembered Race rubbing his arms to try to calm him down and flicking his nose in a friendly manner before quickly setting his broken wrist with a stick and some stray strips of fabric and telling him not to take it out of the sling until it didn’t hurt anymore, plus a day, just to be safe.

And after he was okay—well, not crying anymore and more okay than a lot of others were—Les noticed how even when all of them were covered in cuts and bruises that would probably just hurt more if touched, the stream of physical contact didn’t end. No, it just got a little more gentle, taking away the fearful adrenaline and helping everyone feel safe.

Kid Blink still leaned against Mush’s knee despite his bruises, sitting in front of the crate the other boy was on. Les knew that the only people around to see in the alley all the Newsies were clumped together in between some dumpsters as they patched each other up enough to move back to the Lodging House were each other, but that didn’t make it any less surprising when Mush stopped stroking Blink’s hair and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

Les knew even most of the other Newsies didn’t touch each other that way, so he guessed maybe ‘best friends’ wasn’t a term that applied well to the pair.

Well, confusing as that may be, Les didn’t see how it could be anything but natural in a group that made each other feel safe even while most of them were hurt.

...

x2

Sarah knew not a lot of girls sold newspapers, and sometimes she asked Davey to go grab her papes to avoid the Delancey brothers’ comments, but she certainly enjoyed this more than her old factory job, and besides, now there was room to make friends.

All of Davey’s new friends were fun, but at first Sarah thought they were a bit handsy, with the way someone was always clapping her on the back or bumping her shoulder or grabbing her hand just to squeeze it before running off to their spot. But then she figured out that they acted like that with everyone, and they always stopped if she asked them to, and it wasn’t just because she was a girl around their age.

It took some getting used to, but Sarah eventually found it just another part of her day. It became routine; block Jack’s hand before he could mess up her hair, let Mike and Ike adjust her form when they teach her some self defense, throw her arm around Jojo to stop girls from flirting with him so he doesn’t get uncomfortable... it was easy. Physical contact was written in everything the Newsies did. It was as essential as breathing.

And then there was Katherine, and Katherine didn’t have as much time to hang around the group, but she’d joined it around the same time Sarah did, and was just as new at all of this.

Katherine’s red hair shined in the sun and her hands were always gentle when she helped a little one patch up a scraped knee and Sarah really wanted to hold her hand but she wasn’t sure if Katherine would be okay with that, with how the reporter often brushed away Jack’s and Romeo’s touches as annoying.

And since Sarah spent practically every day with the Newsies, she knew their gossip better than Katherine could. She knew that several pairs of them were... more than friendly, even being the same gender, and while it wasn’t safe, the group didn’t care. Sarah had no intention of telling anyone that she was attracted to girls, but she was. She understood what they felt but didn’t know if Katherine would even want to be her friend if she knew.

But then one day, Katherine was hanging around the girls’ corner of the Lodging House, where Sniper and Smalls slept and had a couple spare blankets to drape down from the top bunk so the boys couldn’t see them change, and Sarah found out that the reporter didn’t mind at all.

Sniper was leaning upside down over the edge of the bunk, trying to win a bet and shoot a can set up on one of the boy’s beds, when Smalls very suddenly kissed her, making her miss her shot, though Sarah noted that Sniper didn’t seem to mind that much, just content to keep doing what they were doing.

Katherine’s only reaction was to roll her eyes and smile, swatting Smalls with a newspaper and complaining that she’d cheated. And when the short brunette fell backwards next to Sarah sitting on the next bunk over, Sarah was glad that it was acceptable to reach over and squeeze Smalls tightly in her excitement.

...

x3

When Katherine first started hanging out with the Newsies, she’d figured out pretty quick that touch was their love language, and not even in a romantic way, for the most part. Touching each other was how they made sure each other were okay and how they showed their brotherly bond. It was beautiful to Katherine, if very different from how Bill, Darcy, and all the other men she’d grown up with expressed affection.

For the Newsies, it was the most natural thing in the world to celebrate a good headline by grabbing the nearest friend and dancing a messy little do-si-do, or to huddle together on a cold day. Not a one of them bothered with social conventions that men weren’t supposed to show affection, and definitely not by touching each other constantly.

But that was how the Newsies worked, and Katherine couldn’t say she was sorry that they adopted her effortlessly, incorporating her into their existing friendship like she’d always belonged there.

Katherine liked waking up early to meet them at the gates for a bit of hangout time before work started. She liked meeting Davey halfway for a one-armed hug, or dodging Jack and Romeo’s joke-flirting only to let them clasp her shoulder in greeting, or making up a new secret handshake with Race because they both forgot the one they made last time.

Actually, it was through Race that Katherine learned how some of the touches between certain Newsies weren’t just about friendship.

She was meeting him over at Sheepshead, since supposedly he had a scoop on one of the trainers sabotaging other people’s horses, though Katherine was a little skeptical about if he’d actually found anything or was just over-dramatizing things.

She’d turned a corner to the place under the stands where Race usually was when he took a break from selling, only to find not only her good friend Racetrack Higgins, but Spot Conlon, and well... even for the Newsies, being pinned against a wall while someone kissed you senseless wasn’t a platonic gesture.

The two jumped apart the second they saw Katherine, and Race tried to say that it wasn’t what it looked like, but Katherine assured them that she wasn’t going to tell anyone, but wanted to know if the Newsies were okay with that kind of thing; being in a relationship with someone of the same gender.

Race was puzzled, but responded that, yes, the fellas were fine with it, and that various combinations of their group had courted at one point or another, with several pairs currently together. Spot chimed in to report that even a few inter-borough relationships happened, his and Race’s being one of them.

That fact known, Katherine felt absolutely no guilt when Medda put on a special show after hours just for the Newsies as a one-time thing, and Katherine put her arm around Sarah near the beginning of it, the two of them more or less cuddling for the duration of the show. And she definitely wasn’t complaining when a love song came on, and Sarah gently turned her face up so her lips could meet Katherine’s.

Somehow, the fact that Jack had seen and told pretty much everyone didn’t embarrass Katherine too much. Or maybe she just enjoyed the playful camaraderie of her friends coming up to congratulate her with a handshake or a slap on the arm.

...

x4

Crutchie had always known that his friendship with the other Newsies worked differently than a lot of friendships, but he’d never really registered how differently until he was forced to go without it.

In the Refuge, there was no Jack helping him get down a ladder, or Romeo offering a one-armed hug as a good morning, or Finch ruffling his hair when he predicted the weather. Even being new, Crutchie noticed the sore absense of any kind of positive contact between anyone. Even boys who claimed to be friends never touched unless they absolutely had to.

No, contact was limited to Snyder and the guards giving a beating, or someone roughly shoving their way down the hallway because they judged those in front of them too slow, or a hard slap against a limb to try to jostle for more space on the bed or get someone’s foot out of their face.

The only remotely positive interactions Crutchie got were sympathetic grimaces from a boy who saw his bruises, or an only slightly grumpy hand handing him his crutch, but those things were not even close to what he was used to and not nearly enough after years of nearly constant friendly contact from boys he considered his brothers.

Then Crutchie was released, and he got back that contact he’d been hanging onto the memory of, but somehow it wasn’t how he remembered it. He suddenly couldn’t let Race throw an arm around his shoulder to greet him in the morning. He couldn’t accept a double-hug from Mike and Ike when there was a good headline or keep from flinching when Jack tried to make sure he didn’t fall on the way down from the Penthouse.

Crutchie didn’t understand. He’d spent his time in the Refuge missing this and now he could barely take any of it? It didn’t make sense.

When he tried to explain to Jack, the older boy just smiled sadly and nodded in understanding. He said that he’d gone through that when he first got out; not being able to let anyone touch him for a while. Jack still couldn’t handle people touching his left shoulder unexpectedly, but they all had little triggers like that. Random touches or tones of voice paired with specific words that couldn’t be used. Crutchie just didn’t understand why he seemed to be triggered by practically everything.

But Jack said to give it time. To let this get better with time and just try to be patient with himself.

And slowly, with help from the other Newsies, all of whom were willing to do whatever they had to do to help as best they could, Crutchie did get better.

Maybe not all of his scars could completely heal with time, but Crutchie was getting better. Now, when Davey patted his shoulder before they parted ways selling or Romeo leaned up against him while dramatically describing his latest failed romantic venture, most touch could feel as normal as it had before he’d gotten taken.

...

x5

Davey had noticed the Newsies as very physically connected people even before he’d been one of them. That was to say he’d noticed them playing around, putting each other in headlocks and even one guy casually riding on another’s shoulders from the first morning he’d started selling.

And as much as Davey enjoyed this dynamic once he started getting included in it and got used to someone always touching him, it made it that much more painful, knowing that a certain friend of his touched everyone he cared about like that.

Davey had never fallen in love before, so he kind of missed that he did at first, before realizing that what he was feeling for one of the Newsies was everything he’d read in books that involved love. From thinking about him constantly to getting butterflies whenever he saw his smile, Davey couldn’t deny that he felt something more than simple friendship.

Unfortunately, Jack Kelly happened to be a boy, which made him completely unattainable, even if it made Davey felt like sparks were flying every time he touched him, and he had to remind himself that it didn’t mean a thing.

It didn’t mean anything that Jack practically picked Davey up in his excitement when there was a really good headline and he hugged him and spun around. It didn’t mean anything when he grabbed Davey’s face to check him for injuries after they got out of a fight. It didn’t mean anything when there weren’t any spare chairs in Jacobis and Jack chose Davey’s lap instead of the table.

After all, he’d seen Race hug Spot much tighter when he got excited. Sniper always looked that worried when she checked Smalls over after a fight. Kid Blink sat on Mush’s lap even when there were free seats.

And it wasn’t like Albert didn’t kiss Finch on the cheek some mornings before mock saluting when they went off on separate selling routes, or laugh loudly when the taller boy sometimes pulled him back to whisper something in his ear while keeping one hand on Albert’s waist.

All that was to be expected of Newsie friendships. None of it was weird with them because... well, it just wasn’t. The fact that he loved those friendships so much was why Davey could absolutely not tell anyone that he’d fallen for his best friend. They would never understand. The others would hate him if they found out, not that Davey could blame them. Guys weren’t supposed to love other guys. Davey knew that, so as long as nobody ever found out, those friendly touches and friendships wouldn’t change and Davey would never lose them, right?

Wrong, apparently.

It wasn’t common that the entire group wasn’t together after a day of selling, but when one of those days came, Jack was painting a backdrop for Medda, and the rest of them were hanging out in the Lodging House, Davey personally watching Race beat everyone at poker.

“So, when is Jack getting back?”

It’d been an innocent question. Fair, for a best friend. Davey didn’t think anyone would suspect anything.

Instead, Race turned around to give Davey a smirk, “Why? Only been a few hours since sellin’ time! Missin’ ya boyfriend already?”

“What? My—“ Davey sputtered, “Jack is not my— why would you think—?”

“Please,” Spot said nonchalantly, “As if we all couldn’t see how you’se been crushin’ on him since day one.”

Davey’s breathing sped up as he realized what they were saying. They knew. They all knew.

“Whoa, Davey, are you okay?” Mush’s voice asked, sounding far away.

Davey couldn’t breath. He was going to lose them all. He didn’t have any other friends and now he was going to lose the ones he had. Everything felt like too much, from the press of the bedpost where he was gripping it probably too tight to the others voices, all overlapping and sounding too loud and too far away all at once. Davey sucked in breath as fast as he could but it didn’t seem to be enough. He still couldn’t breath. He couldn’t get enough air.

One voice cut through it all.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong? Davey! Davey, are you okay?”

Davey flinched away from Jack’s touch, and the other boy stopped trying to grab his shoulders, his hands hovering halfway between Davey sitting on the bed and Jack crouching in front of him.

“Davey, I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but you need to try to breath, okay? Just take a deep breath with me. In... and out.”

Davey did his best, breathing in and out as Jack instructed, slowly managing to come down from his panic.

Jack looked around accusingly at the fellas, “Alright, who did this? What did alls you’se do?”

“We didn’t do anything!” Spot protested.

“Spot mentioned things ‘bout Davey bein’ queer,” Smalls said.

“Smalls!”

“What? I tells the truth, unlike you!”

Jack looked back at Davey, and found that the other boy wouldn’t look him in the eye. Why would he? Davey certainly didn’t want to look at the boy he loved whilst getting kicked out of the friend group.

“Don’t worry about it,” Davey mumbled, “If it’s okay with you, Les’ll keep selling, but I’m sure I can find other work.”

“What are you...” Jack seemed to realize something, “Dave, can I touch you?”

Davey was surprised he wanted to, but nodded.

Causing even more surprise, Jack didn’t put his hand on Davey’s arm or hand. Instead, he grabbed the taller boy’s chin gently and forced Davey to look at him.

“Dave, what do you see when you look over there?”

Davey looked where Jack was gesturing with the hand that hadn’t moved to Davey’s shoulder. He didn’t understand, but he looked.

Blink was sitting in the poker circle, on Mush’s lap as he leaned back against the other boy’s chest, somehow neither of them having looked at each other’s cards.

Smalls was on a bunk behind them, laying back with her head close to where Sniper was sitting, who was softly smiling as she stroked Smalls’s hair. Smalls was playing, but Sniper wasn’t.

Race had his legs tossed across Spot’s, and he occasionally leaned over to try to get a look at his cards, though the King of Brooklyn always pushed him back with a fond smile.

Finch was playing as a team with Albert as they didn’t have enough cards for everyone, and the latter was between the former’s legs as Finch rested his chin on top of Albert’s hair.

Katherine wasn’t playing poker, but she was perched on a bunk nearby, sitting very close to Sarah, who was looking at Davey like he was stupid for some reason.

Sarah only gave him that look when she was genuinely frustrated with him, and Davey stared his twin down, not sure what she was trying to get at, here as they tried to communicate with just their facial expressions.

“Uh, what’s going on there?” Jack asked.

“It’s a twin thing,” Mike answered.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ike agreed.

Davey gave up trying to get whatever Sarah was trying to communicate and turned back to Jack.

“What am I looking at?”

Jack made a small noise of disbelief, “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

Jack huffed and dragged his hands through his hair, “So, why do you think we wouldn’t want to be friends with you anymore?”

“Because I’m... I like boys,” Davey admitted, “Why would you want to be friends with someone like that? You’re all such close friends, and—“

“You think we’re all friends?” Albert asked, sounding disbelieving.

“Of course you are. Why else would you be—“

“Davey,” Mush cut him off gently, “That’s not... we aren’t...” he made a frustrated noise, “I don’t do this with my friends.”

Davey was fairly certain his brain short-circuited out of surprise as Mush leaned down and full-on kissed Blink on the lips. Sniper wolf-whistled, but other than that, nobody had really any reaction.

As they separated, Blink shrugged with a smile, “He does that with me, though.”

Suddenly, a lot of things made a lot more sense, and Davey wondered how he’d never seen it before. Even Sarah... oh, God, how had he never noticed?

“Yeah, we don’t much care if ya like Jack’s ass,” Spot summed up.

Davey froze. He’d just accepted that the fellas were okay with him liking boys, but that didn’t mean he wanted Jack to know he liked him.

Especially since... especially since even if Jack didn’t care, he’d been with Katherine a while back, and Sarah for a bit afterwards. He liked girls. He wasn’t one of the ones like Davey.

But Jack just stifled a laugh, “You like my ass?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Davey mumbled, “But yeah, I... I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. And it’s okay that you don’t feel the same.”

Davey made a point not to meet Jack’s eyes. He didn’t want to know what the other boy’s expression was, because even if he wasn’t disgusted by Davey liking boys, he might be by Davey liking him specifically, and even if he wasn’t, he might feel guilty for rejecting him, and Davey didn’t want him to hurt like that or at all and—

“Why would you think I don’t feel the same?”

Jack’s words were soft in a way Davey had never heard before, and gentle in a way that he had never expected to have meant for him.

Davey looked up in surprise, meeting Jack’s eyes and finding that his expression was gentle and almost... loving?

“You were with Katherine,” Davey stuttered, “And... and Sarah. You like girls.”

He was finding it very hard to think as Jack ever so slowly leaned closer, laughing lightly.

“And that means I can’t like boys?”

“Well...” Davey’s brain melted as Jack leaned his forehead against his own, the gentle pressure sending fireworks through his mind.

“It just so happens, I like you a lot, too,” Jack said quietly, “And in case you still don’t get it...”

Jack pressed a small kiss to Davey’s lips and Davey felt warmth pass through him in a flash.

“I love you, Davey Jacobs.”

Davey took a shaky breath, not quite believing his ears, but responding anyway.

“And I love you, too, Jack Kelly.”

This time, Davey kissed him first, and he certainly didn’t feel Jack protesting as the shorter boy kissed him back.

It wasn’t until Sniper wolf-whistled that Davey remembered there were other people in the room. He hid his face in Jack’s shoulder as the room full of their friends actually applauded.

“Okay, okay!” Jack called, waving his hands around for emphasis, “You’se can collect ya bets now, but leave me and my boy alone, hear? We’ll be in my Penthouse if anyone needs me.”

As they left the room, several Newsies clapped Davey on the shoulders or ruffled his hair in encouragement, all calling out their congratulations.

Yeah, Davey decided that in a sea of friendly touches and a few more than friendly touches, he was happy.

#newsies #the newsies #javid #javey #blush #smallsper #sprace #newsbians #redfinch #jack kelly #david davey jacobs #kid blink newsies #mush meyers #smalls newsies #sniper newsies #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #sarah jacobs #katherine plumber pulitzer #albert dasilva #finch newsies #fluff #slight angst #crutchie morris #les jacobs #violet’s writing

[illegiblewords]

Notes under the cut!

Having made a lady WoL collection, I decided to do a dude one too. As before I have more, but not all are leveled and I have some I’m more attached to than others.

I do want to push for more range honestly--I’m not sure how I wound up with three midlander dudes and a highlander lol. I should really follow through with a male au ra, hrothgar, and lalafell. I did an odd green/brown hair hybrid that I suppose could qualify for brunette, but otherwise my tendencies toward black and blonde hair came through real strong. Mysteriously absent are redheads. I may also want to experiment more with color palettes and cultural influences a bit.

For the guys, there are spots where I played into job expectations and spots where I defied them. I wanted to try designing some characters in ways I hadn’t seen so much in-game, as well as designing characters who would immediately evoke a specific tone! There are also definitely jobs where I deliberately tried to show some traditional masculinity where it’s less expected, which was fun.

Cenric/Black Mage Midlander: People have criticized hyurs before by calling them “too vanilla”, since they’re the human stand-ins. I figure though, they’re hyurs. Hyurs are imaginary and don’t need to follow real world biology. Play with color palettes and features so you get a more definite fantasy look if you want to. With Cenric, I specifically tried to go super dark and de-saturated to evoke a walking silhouette (sort of like drow) and gave him the palest eyes possible with strategic face paint so they’d look like they glow. This was all in the name of making a character who evoked Final Fantasy’s classic black mage, just going in a more adult and extra spooky-goth direction.

Maerec/Dark Knight Midlander: Maerec, I designed specifically to both be a step off of the default midlander from commercials and to embody the Dark Knight questline as best I could. Giving him some edge visually while still feeling reasonably natural was fun to balance! To this end, I knew dark eyes would be important to helping the black hair fit in. Going with a very dark red I figure it almost seems like he could have brown eyes until you look closely. Making him feel very Ishgardian was also fun, with the horned helmet and Fray-esque glamour. I also designed him to both parallel and contrast with Lahabrea given their stories are intertwined. If there’s scattered angel/demon imagery between them that works even more.

Sublime Tiger/Samurai Hellsguard: I know that my natural inclinations go toward bishonens lmao, so figuring out the angle I wanted to work with the SUPER BEEFY male roegadyns was wild! One thing that gave me inspiration at the time was realizing that, with their black noses, Hellsguard roegadyns can 100% evoke big cats--among other animals. I usually prefer designing Sea Wolves for lacking the black noses because my impulse is for it either to be visually unified with the rest of the face/body or go without--so I often feel a bit more limited with what kind of designs I’ll do for Hellsguard. With Sublime Tiger, originally he had both orange and black striped hair (one of the styles available works it) as well as the black face paint evoking tiger stripes. I found the hair more limiting with helms though so made it pure black instead. Deciding what glamour would look good and play well with proportions was also a process--wanted him to feel like he’s from Othard since there is a big Hellsguard population there, so samurai made some sense to me in building that. After experimenting though, I wound up going with a look that took a bit of inspiration from One Thousand And One Nights. I have additional ideas for what I might try going forward though.

J’mor/Red Mage Miqo’te: This was a combination of a lot of ideas! One was wanting to embrace the physicality of red mage as a job, and explore it as a worldly kind of caster who works well with ease of movement and does a lot of darting around the battlefield. Mages in-general are often seen as kind of ivory tower sorts, and by shedding the usual frills I wanted to show that it’s possible to have a caster’s knowledge while being very connected to the world at large. Also give a strong sense of SWASHBUCKLER where the magic kind of slaps you in the face with additional power. I also noticed I hadn’t seen as many black male miqo’te in-general, along with fandom stereotypes about catboys as soft. So I decided to design J’mor with that in mind--playing him as a very shonen kind of hero while the beard brings an extra bit of hardness to his features.

Asah’zi/White Mage Miqo’te: Asah’zi is another case where I wanted to challenge the idea of male miqo’te as soft, and I added to that challenge by making him a white mage when that is often filled by lady characters. I was also interested, lore-wise, in the tension between Keeper of the Moon tribes and Gridania (where white magic has very strong ties). That Keepers of the Moon are also very matriarchal gave added interest for me making a more rough and traditionally masculine-feeling white mage sort, especially since Keepers often build a lot of their lives around hunting through the Twelveswood. I also wanted to bring some sense of druid into white mage as a job, given the nature ties. With Asah’zi, using skydruid skins, claws, a wooden cane, and on all contributed toward the vibe I wanted to build for him. Using emotes that show off his fangs helps bring a bit of cockiness to him too, which is fun. And stealing Thancred’s hair lets him have a bit of a roguish vibe lol.

Amir/Dancer Highlander: Like I said, I tend to go for bishonen-sorts in designs a lot. HOWEVER! I do love this highlander face type specifically a ton, and think guy highlander proportions are well-balanced overall while being beefy. I knew for a while that I had a specific design I liked a lot for male highlander with Amir, and I definitely wanted to do something with him. The choice to make him a dancer specifically came from a conversation I saw just after the job’s release. An IRL male hip hop dancer mentioned feeling a bit bummed out because a lot of the animations felt like they played more to softness/grace and traditional femininity, and he’d been hoping for the option of a little edge with battle dancing because that’s what he does. Some players said he should just play monk, others were kind of mean to him and acted like what he wanted was somehow shitty. I felt for the dude to be honest since he was coming from a place of feeling frustrated by stereotyping, so I decided to look at the animations and see how much they could be integrated into a design that felt more traditionally masculine. I saw a lot of bright greens (especially with the peacock feathers) so I tried to unify that with a green glamour. The mask reminds me of rave aesthetics a bit, and I’ve seen dudes wear shorts similar to the Nezha ones before. I’m a big fan of the idea that fashion can be a way to create what you want tonally, and I tried to explore that in this design.

Navarre/Paladin Midlander: At some point it hit me that I have been avoiding traditional knight-in-shining-armor looks like the plagues in my tanks lol. This made me think a fair bit. What struck me was that if the only thing a glamour has to say for itself is “this is a knight”, that doesn’t feel so interesting to me. If it’s supposed to be a knight in shining armor specifically though, bringing an almost angelic, elemental feeling to the look is something I’m 500% there for. And weirdly, people don’t seem to do this as much. I’m less used to paladins compared to dark knights, warriors, or even gunbreakers--and since paladins are so associated with that holy knight-vibe I figured it made sense to go that direction. While I was looking into glamours, one thing I found was that a lot of them dyed with unchanging patches of black, had edgy red woven in, or otherwise came across as having been designed with dark knight or warrior in-mind. I decided part of what I’d do in this instance was really make a Warrior of Light who immediately screamed “yes I am the Warrior of Light” when you looked at him, and took inspiration from Cecil Harvey from Final Fantasy IV toward that end too. Every piece in this glamour was carefully picked not just for whether it worked as a silhouette, but also how it would dye.

Cesaire/Dragoon Elezen: Cesaire has gone through a lot of design phases. Initially he was a red elezen, because it’s a direction I don’t see used a lot but has a very doable fantasy feel I think is fun. Then he was a champagne/cream color all over as inspired by a particular breed of horses. Now, having put a lot of thought in, he is deep gold with blue eyes. The underlying concept for him was that I wanted to make a golden dragoon who looks like he should be terribly heroic, but then in practice he’s a kind of blood knight WoL who is about as close to Zenos as a Warrior can get without going outright evil. I played into gold and more general adventuring gear for the reason that I think Cesaire has absolutely left Ishgard behind him, and strongly prefers to be someone defined by what they do rather than where they’re from. Given elezens’ wide shoulders I also had to think about what combinations would work for balancing proportions, and I wanted Cesaire to visually hold his own visual niche within my overall Famfrit lineup so a lot was chosen with that in mind.

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy gpose #final fantasy xiv screenshots #ffxiv

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Stab Deterrent

More of my own ideas...sorry :P I have to write them to get them out of my head.

Peter gets stabbed and requires the assistance of Dr. Cho and her cell regenerating device to heal. What follows makes Peter never want to get stabbed ever again.

word count: 4,050

............................................................................................................

Peter got hurt pretty often, what with being a superhero and all. High hospital bills and painful wounds were an occupational hazard that simply came with the job. But this evening—this injury—was different.

Tony had been dicing tomatoes in the kitchen when he got the ping from FRIDAY—an alert triggered by the vitals monitor in Peter’s suit. It was the kind of thing he’d come up with and installed but hoped would never be required. But Peter, being Peter, meant the utilization of the sensor far more often than to Stark’s liking.

“What did he do this time, FRIDAY?” Stark sighed, twirling the knife through the air. “Swallow a bomb? Pound seven Monster energy drinks in under a minute?”

“Peter Parker has been stabbed in the abdomen,” FRIDAY replied. “He’s losing blood fast and needs immediate medical attention.”

The knife dropped from Tony’s hand and clattered against the granite countertop, his playful attitude disintegrating in an instant. He was suited up in seconds, heart hammering in his ears, a line of sweat breaking along his brow. “W-where is he? How fast can I get to him?”

“Creating a flight path now.”

He was barely conscious when Stark arrived. He’d been gutted by some psycho, who was stuck to the wall in front of Peter beneath a large glob of webbing, the bloody dagger still gripped in his fist. Tony dropped to the asphalt and rushed to Spider-Man’s aid, lifting his head up with a hand under his chin. “Kid? Kid, are you okay? It’s Tony. Can you hear me?”

The eye lenses on his mask fluttered open sluggishly. It took a moment for his vision to focus on the terrified face in front of him. The world spun and his side ached. His voice came out weak and coarse, like he’d been gargling gravel. “Mis’r Stark…?” he murmured, whimpering quietly and gripping his wound tighter. From the ribcage down, Peter’s suit was soaked in blood.

“I got you,” Tony assured him, breathless with fear, sliding one arm under his knees and another around his back. “You’re gonna be fine, okay?”

Peter simply groaned in response. Once the kid was tucked safely against his chest, Stark blasted off the ground and soared above the skyline.

Tony had alerted Dr. Cho to prepare her tissue-building device for an emergency procedure. By the time Iron Man was standing outside of her office with the injured kid in tow, the machine was ready for him. The doctor and her team carted him away, and Stark was forced to wait in the lobby.

It was two hours before he got any news. Two hours of pacing, worrying, biting his nails. When the doors finally creaked open, Tony flew to his feet.

“Is everything okay? What happened? How is he?”

The young nurse smiled fondly upon the concerned billionaire, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Everything is fine, Mr. Stark. The boy was given a blood transfusion and fluids, and he is in the final stages of the tissue repairing operation. His insides are fully healed; all that’s left is the epidermis.”

Tony allowed himself to breathe for the first time in what felt like days. He laid a hand over his chest and bowed his head. “Oh, thank God. I thought…I was so afraid that…” He combed his fingers through his hair, puffing out his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Of course,” the nurse said cheerfully. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Although, I have to tell you: we are having a bit of trouble completing these last layers of operation.”

Stark clenched his jaw. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” the nurse insisted. “Peter is fine, I promise you. The only problem is that Mr. Parker is awake now, and we can’t seem to get him to stay still enough for the device to heal his skin correctly.”

Tony’s terror transformed into confusion. “What, is it hurting him or something?”

The nurse shrugged. “He won’t say. But the operation is supposed to be painless. A soft tingling sensation is the only thing patients have reported feeling.” He nodded at the door. “We were actually hoping you might come back here and help us try to keep him still.”

Tony blinked. Why wasn’t the kid cooperating? He was normally so eager to please, and he’d never been a problematic patient in the past. “Uh, sure,” he said eventually. “I’d definitely like to see him.”

The nurse smiled and led him down the hall. Two left turns later, and they were in the operating room.

Three people in blue scrubs occupied the small space. One was typing something into a desktop computer, the other was looking through a clipboard full of papers, and the third was messing with the short arm that hung above the table in the center. The table that Peter was laid out on, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and looking a little red in the face.

“Peter?” Tony called, hurrying to his side. The kid glanced up at him sharply, and he swore the red darkened a little.

“Oh, Mr. Stark!” he greeted him. He sat up slightly, clearing his throat. “Um, hi.”

“Hey,” he sighed back, patting his shoulder. “You gave us all a real scare there, kiddo. Probably shaved a few of my waning years off.” He gave his arm a small squeeze. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled shyly. “Sorry. It was a stupid mistake, I promise. Won’t let it happen again.” He lifted hjs gaze. “Thank you—you know, for helping. ”

Stark’s eyes wandered down to the kid’s torso, where the only remnant left of the stab wound was a small patch of bright pink flesh. It looked like someone had branded a perfect rectangle into his belly.

“The nurse said you’re not staying still for the last leg of the procedure,” Tony said, noticing the immediate shift in Peter’s expression. “You want to tell me what that’s about? He said this wasn’t supposed to hurt.”

Peter turned away from him and rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “No, it’s not…not that,” he stammered. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark. I’ll, um, be still.”

“What is it, then?” he prodded. “You have to tell the doctor what’s going on, Pete. If it really does hurt, then—”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, looking anywhere but him. “I just—I’ll come find you once I’m done, okay?”

Stark narrowed his eyes at the kid. Why was he being so dodgy about this? He was acting like he was guilty or embarrassed about something. “Yeah, no,” he finally said, crossing his arms against his chest. “I think I’ll stay until the procedure is finished, just to make sure this ‘nothing’ really is nothing.”

Dread washed over the kid’s face as Stark turned on his heels. “Doc?” he called. “Kid says he’ll stay still. If you’re ready, feel free to fire it up again.”

Dr. Cho eyed him skeptically but gave her coworker a nod. With a click, the machine hummed to life, and the young nurse pushed on Peter’s chest. Reluctantly, the kid laid back down, drumming his fingers on the table, chewing on his lip.

“Sequence beginning in three, two, one,” the operator counted off. After one, a small beam of light fired from the tip of the arm, and it began to trace over Peter’s wound.

For the first few seconds, Peter did as he was told—he lied there, unmoving, letting the device work its magic. No sweat. Stark started to wonder if Peter and the staff had banded together to pull some kind of weird prank on him. But then, as the beam passed over his torso a third time, the kid stiffened. His hands curled into fists against the bed and his feet began to twitch. Tony looked down at Peter’s face and saw that his eyes were scrunched shut and his lips were pursed together tautly.

“Peter?” Stark said. “Kid, is it hurting you?”

He shook his head briskly, his ears flushing pink. The kid’s eyes flew open suddenly and he slapped a hand over his mouth. A muffled whimpering sound slipped between his fingers as his twitching turned into squirms.  

“Doesn’t look very still to me,” Dr. Cho said dryly. She signaled for the nurse to shut it off, but Tony raised his hand.

“Wait,” he said, turning on the kid with a frown. “Peter, stop trying to act tough. We’re not turning it off until you tell us what’s going on.”

Peter threw his other hand over his bright pink face. “Ihi’m s-sohorry,” he whined, his voice much shriller than normal. “I’m—I cahan’t—ahaheehee!”

Stark narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the squirmy teenager. “Wait,” he said bemusedly, spotting the wide smile peeking out between the kid’s fingers. “Are you…laughing?”

A few seconds later, Peter balled his hands into fists and dropped them against the table, his crumbling front finally giving way to a flood of giggles. “Crahahap!” he squealed, arching his spine, blushing as bright as a tomato. “Ihit—it r-reheheally—it tihihickles, eheehee!”

Staring down at the giggling superhero, Tony’s frown slowly melted into an amused and puzzled smile. “It tickles?” he repeated, glancing over at the doctor in search of an answer. Dr. Cho placed a hand on her hip.

“Huh. I’ve never heard that before.”

Peter covered his face again and scrunched up his toes, high-pitched laughter pouring from his lips. “Plehehease—oho gohod!” When he couldn’t bear it a second longer, he rolled on to his side and curled into a ball, desperate to relieve his tummy of the fiendish tickling sensation. The device operator quickly shut the beam off, leaving the kid panting and flushed, struggling to catch his breath.

“Well that was…surprising,” Stark chuckled. Of all the suspected causes Tony had thought responsible for the kid’s uncooperativeness, this certainly hadn’t been one of them. How funny, he thought. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at poor, giggly Peter, who was hugging himself around the middle and panting. He was almost too damn cute for words.

“I’m sohorry…” Peter giggled breathlessly, his belly tingling against his fingers. “Just…gimme a sec…”  

“No one has ever told me it tickled them before,” Dr. Cho said curiously, joining Tony at Peter’s bedside. “At least, not to this extent. Is Mr. Parker known to be a particularly sensitive person?”

Tony shrugged, unable to wipe the endearing grin from his face. “I mean, no. Not to me, anyway.” He’d never attempted to tickle Peter before, and he’d certainly never witnessed anyone else try it either. It wasn’t exactly something that came up naturally between a mentor and their mentee working in a lab and beating up bad guys together. He made a note to amend that mistake soon after this—and from the uneasy anticipation he could read from the kid’s expression, he guessed Peter was aware of his plans.

Stark gave his shoulder a nudge, making Peter start a little.“What do you think? Would you consider yourself a super ticklish person, Peter? Like, compared to normal people?”

Peter sat up slowly with an arm still glued to his torso, the pink tint in his cheeks beginning to creep down into his neck. “Uh, heh, I don’t…I don’t think so.” He gave a nervous laugh—strained and quiet and very easy to distinguish from his authentic one—and scratched the back of his head. “But, um, you know what? It’s fine. I don’t need any more healing laser beam treatments. If it’s just that little bit of skin left, my body can take care of the rest of it, no problem.” Moving briskly, he scooted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs off the side. “So, uh, we good here?”

Dr. Cho stepped in front of him to stop him from hopping to the floor. “Hold on, Peter. Your wound is still in danger of hemorrhage and infection. I can’t release you until the procedure is fully complete.”

Peter looked to Stark with pleading eyes, like he expected the billionaire to rescue him from this hilarious predicament. Tony snorted. “You heard the doc,” he said, poking Peter just below his ribs. Peter jumped and squealed in the most cute and clumsy way, making Tony’s evil grin widen. “Wow. You are really ticklish, huh?”

“Stohop it!” Peter squeaked, betrayed. His anger was quickly drowned in laughter as Tony started to poke him all over, alternating between both hands, his index fingers tasering the kid’s bare sides, belly, and ribcage wherever they weren’t being guarded by his arms, throwing in the occasional squeeze or flutter when they seemed appropriate. Within seconds, he was curled back into a tiny ball, kicking and jerking and laughing hysterically, reduced to a helpless, giggling mess.

“This is ridiculous,” Stark laughed. “You’re a superhero. I’ve watched you fight off an army of alien monsters with ease. Now you’re telling me all it takes to defeat you is a few pokes to the tummy?”

Peter grappled with his mentor’s hands while flailing all over the table. “Mr. Stahark! Wahait! Ahahack! Nohoho!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Dr. Cho interceded, fighting back a smile. The rest of her team hid their endearment far less gracefully. “We need to complete the procedure as soon as possible. And Mr. Parker will have to be still for it.”

“At this rate, I think you ought to just knock him out,” Stark chuckled. Clambering to recompose himself, Peter sat back up again, skittish and pink.

“He’s been under for many hours now. I’d really prefer not to sedate him again, especially since the remainder of the operation should only take about five minutes.”

The doc had a point. Peter really didn’t need any more drugs in his system. Tony smiled at the flustered teenager with a mix of pity and delight. “Well, what do you say, kiddo? You think you can stay still for five more minutes so the doctors can finish fixing you up?”

Peter was clearly still recovering from Tony Stark’s poke attack, but he did his best to look unabashed. His eyes flickered between all the gazes trained on his half-naked, blushing self, and he hunched his shoulders up to his ears. “I…uh…w-well…” he stammered softly. Stark couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Perhaps we could restrain him?” the nurse from earlier suggested suddenly. “Just until the procedure is finished. That way, there’d be no risk of him moving and messing up the pattern.”

Tony watched Peter’s eyes bug out of his head. “W-what? Restrain me?”

“Good idea,” Dr. Cho said, rounding the table to stand behind Peter’s head. “We need to do this quick. Peter, lie back with your arms above your head.”

Again, Peter looked to Tony. As much as Stark would love to save the kid from this adorably embarrassing scenario, they really needed to get his wound fixed. He patted his arm.

“Let’s just get this over with. The faster we start, the faster it’s done.”

Peter groaned as Tony helped him lie down, his ears burning. “I hate thihis,” he whined, nervous giggles already punctuating his words.

Using heavy-duty clasps that Stark provided, the doctors began securing him to the table. Tony did his best to comfort the kid as they did. “I’ll stay with you until it’s over, okay?”

“Noho,” Peter snapped shyly. “You’re just gohonna make fun of me.”

Tony tried not to smile, but simply couldn’t help himself. “I promise I won’t. At least, not until after.”

Peter pouted and blushed as his ankles and wrists were shackled to the table. Using thick bands, they also tied his torso down so that he couldn’t buck his hips or arch his back and wind up disrupting the device’s precise cell mapping again. The feeling of complete immobility was not in any way to Peter’s liking.

Once he was secured, Cho gave the word to the operator. The man held his finger over the switch.

“Sequence beginning in three, two, one…”

A moment later, the beam clicked on, and the mechanical arm began to make passes over the kid’s wound. Tony laid his hand on Peter’s arm.

“You okay?” he asked carefully. Peter nodded with his eyes shut and his lips sucked against his teeth.

“Mmhmm, yeah. I’m fihine.” He puffed out his cheeks and scrunched up his nose. “Everything’s fine. Yep. Ihi’m great. Soho great. I can do thihis. I cahan doho this. Ihi cahahan—”

His eyes popped open suddenly and he tried to squirm. The futile attempt quickly reminded Peter of the fact that he couldn’t move an inch in any direction. He hadn’t been fully aware of just how well restrained he was until now, when the soft, feathery tickling sensation had reached an unbearable level of intensity, when it felt like six or seven hands were clawing delicately at his tummy, letting their nails glide against his skin with sadistically light and rhythmic movements. How did the machine imitate that feeling so perfectly, even though that wasn’t even something it was designed to do?

The tickling was too much for the helplessly sensitive teenager to take. But to his horror, he couldn’t move a muscle. He couldn’t make it stop.

“Shihihit!” Peter squealed, the floodgates bursting open. “Nohoho I cahan’t!” He clenched his fists and threw his head back, giggling wildly, uncontrollably. “Mr. Stahahark! Hehehelp!”

Tony laughed empathetically, moving his hand to the kid’s head and running his fingers through his curls. “You’re all right, giggle monster. Just let it out; it’ll be over soon.”

Not soon enough! he thought. The feeling was spreading across his entire torso like a plague, inflicting more and more of him with the maddening sensation. The feathery touches and scritchy-scratching nails were multiplying by the second. Peter whipped his head from side to side.

“Nohohahaha! Plehehease! I cahahan’t—I cahahahan’t!”

“This is intriguing,” Dr. Cho said, watching the poor hero twitch and shriek uselessly. “I’ve never seen the procedure affect someone so dramatically.”

Tony petted Peter’s hair, fighting back against his own bout of giggles. The kid’s laughter was adorably contagious. “I’ve certainly never seen him like this. Maybe your machine is malfunctioning.”

Dr. Cho stared at Peter’s wound, watching the device work its magic on the damaged cells. “Well, it’s doing its job. Just a few more minutes, and it’ll be done. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“IHIHI’M DYHIHIHING!” Peter cried. Tears welled in his eyes and hiccups jumped from his throat. He couldn’t believe how much it tickled—like someone was blowing fifty raspberries into his tummy at once. Although he’d never admit it, there had been times in his life where he’d actually enjoyed being tickled. Wrestling with Ben as a kid, affectionate pokes from May—sometimes it was the only way to cheer him up when he was in a really low spot. The people who knew him best knew this annoying well, and weren’t afraid to utilize it.

But this? Tied down and tickled to tears, laughing like an idiot in front his biggest idol? This was just downright evil. All he could do was lie there and take it, the endless bombardment of tickling sensations dancing across his skin, driving him up the wall. He wanted to thrash and twist and guard his poor belly from the beam’s cruel path, but the only thing he could do was twitch his toes and squirm in place and laugh helplessly.

“Just try to think about something else,” Mr. Stark suggested. “Like, uh…what are you working on in school? Got any cool upgrade ideas for your suit? How’s your aunt?”

Peter barely even registered that he was speaking. He really wished he could hide his face behind his hands right now. He knew he was all red cheeks and giant, dumb smiles. “PLEHEHEASE!” he begged, turning away from Mr. Stark as much as his restraints would allow. “NOHO MOHOHORE! NOHO MOHOHOHORE! AHAHAHAHA!”

Suddenly, the beam flickered off. In an instant, the tickling sensation shrunk back to a tiny tingle. “All done!” the operator said cheerfully. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Peter fell limp against the table, gasping for breath, dizzy with relief. He’d never laughed so long and hard in his entire life. Giggles still clung to his words. “Gah…aha…oho my…oho gohod…” He let his head loll to the side while Tony continued to card his fingers through his hair.

“That was probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Stark said matter-of-factly. “And I met an alpaca on Tuesday. A baby alpaca. Like, a real live baby alpaca. You know how tough that is to beat?”

“Shuhut up…” Peter groaned, smiling. Now that he wasn’t distracted by tickle-filled laser beams, he realized how nice it felt to have Tony petting his head. He didn’t do that kind of thing very often. It kinda made Peter feel like a puppy.

“All set,” Dr. Cho said, pressing lightly on the kid’s now fully-healed stomach. Her touch made Peter wince in surprise. “You’re good to go. Let’s get you out of these bonds.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Stark insisted. “You guys go on ahead. Grab yourselves a fancy lunch. My treat.”

The doctors all grinned at each other like kids in a candy store and hurried eagerly out of the lab with a wave of thank yous. Stark shook each of their hands as they left, then returned to Peter’s side once they were alone.

“Here we go,” he said, undoing the straps around the kid’s midsection. Their absence made it a lot easier to breathe.

“Thanks,” he said, sucking in a large gulp of air. “That was…horrible.”

“I encourage you to remember this experience the next time you decide to put yourself in a potentially stabby situation,” Stark said with a smirk. “Good deterrent I’d say, yeah?”

Yes, very much so, Peter thought. But he wouldn’t give Mr. Stark the satisfaction; he’d already had plenty. He knew his mentor was never going to let him live this day down.

“It is crazy how well that thing works,” Tony said nonchalantly. Then he reached out and poked the spot where Peter had been stabbed, making him jolt.

“H-hey!” he yelped. The straps were gone, but Peter’s ankles and wrists were still shackled to the table, so he was still very trapped and vulnerable.

Stark swirled his finger against the spot, smiling at the kid’s squeaky, hysterical response.“I mean, it looks like it was never even there, doesn’t it?”

“Dohon’t! Mr. Stark, dohon’t!” Peter had almost forgotten what it felt like to have an actual hand tickling him instead of a weird beam. Oddly enough, the hand seemed more effective at eliciting a quicker, wilder response. “Come ohon! Lehet me goho!”

“What? I’m just admiring how remarkable Dr. Cho’s invention is at doing its job,” Tony said innocently. “I can’t even tell where your wound was anymore. Do you remember? Was it…here?”

He tasered his side suddenly, making Peter leap.

“Or…here?”

He poked just below his bellybutton. Peter was in pieces.

“Mihister Stahahark!”

“Or maybe it was here.”

He made a claw with his hand and shook it against Peter’s entire tummy. Peter was a writhing, squealing puddle.

“Stohopstopstohohahahap!”

“I know!” Tony exclaimed. “I bet the new skin feels different from your old skin. More synthetic, maybe? Let’s see…”

Using both hands now, Stark started pinching and squeezing all over his sides, his ribcage, his belly, his hips, everywhere. His evil thumbs dug in deep and wiggled mercilessly into Peter’s skin, honing in on the spots that elicited the most reaction. Peter bucked and shrieked, but he couldn’t get away.

Tony let up quickly after that, recognizing when the kid had really had enough. He just couldn’t help himself—he loved hearing the kid laugh, seeing him look so happy, especially after almost losing him today. He was glad to have this knowledge in his back pocket, in case Peter was ever in a particularly bad or stubborn mood in the future.

“Are you good?” Stark chuckled, helping the giggly teen to his feet. He stuffed the clasps in his pocket then ruffled his hair.

“Yohou’re evil,” he said, hugging his aching sides. “You’re gohonna pay for this.”

“Are you threatening me right now?” Stark scoffed, tweaking the kid’s ribs, making him fold into himself and squeal. “Bad idea. Especially now.”

Needless to say, Stark did not end up paying for it.

#ticklish!peter #ticklish!peter parker #ticklish!spidey #ticklish!spiderman #sfw tickle fic #sfw tickling #iron dad #spiderman fanfiction #tickle fic #spiderman tickle fic #spiderman tickling #spiderman tickle #peter parker tickle #peter parker #tom holland #tony stark #spiderman #my fic

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Take Your Breath Away (WickixFem!Reader)

Requested by @mbluxaeterna​

@war-obsessed​ @owba-chan​ @inglourious-imagines​

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in these! :)

****Some of the dialogue is in German, the translations are in italics <3

It was Hugo's first mission (adventure, misadventure...everyone had a different take on it) with the basterds.

Those basterds... They had a bit of an inglourious run in with another OSS sanctioned squadron behind enemy lines, without even realizing it. The basterds, and the vandals.... The vandals were a motley crew of ex-cons, thieves, and hitmen, slapped together with a bow and a second chance by the OSS, and put behind enemy lines. None of the Vandals were expected to survive, but their skills were highly prized. You... Well. you were a young Vandal. A thief, through and through. Your lieutenant, a charming hit-man (nice man, really) talked his way into a nazi gala. It wasn't the first, or the last time.  You posed as a singer. One of the other vandals was a pianist.  The rest of your team weasled in, as always. At the intermission of your ‘performance,’ the pianist took over and you slipped away. You were tasked with finding a vault containing documents that exposed a few of the nazis' upcoming operatives. It wasn't an easy job. In fact...you probably wouldn't make it out alive. Especially since the Basterds weren't the most tact group of soldiers... They didn't even have orders to interfere with the gala. They just heard about it on the streets of Paris and decided to crash the party...

So, there you were, alone in a hidden room, nestled between two ancient mahogany walls, carved out of a former Spanish galleon,  behind the party.

You hummed and sang intermittent words between low swings of your voice. It was a song you once used to justify your unlawfulness. With four younger siblings to feed, the Great Depression, and being born a woman in  a world with closed doors, you didn't have many options.

So you sang softly as you cracked the millionth code. "They used to tell me, I was building a dream. And so I followed the mob... When there was earth to plow, Or guns to bear, I was always there. Right on the job."

You mumbled a few words of the lyrics that stuck with you since you were a kid without a penny or care in the world, in line for bread for your sick brother.

There you stood, thousands of miles across the seas, in France, in a dress that poor kid never could have even dreamed of.

A safe with untold secrets, more valuable than gold...

You heard the last click from the lock, and you grinned as you started pulling out the yellow folders stamped with red ink: eingestuft

Classified

You heard one more click.

It was unnacounted for.

It was neither from the abandoned lock or your heels.

It was from a loaded gun. A bullet intended for your skull. 

You sighed, not even looking up. A nazi's red face wasn’t what you wanted to see at the end of your admittedly short life.

You continued to pull out the files, intending on dying doing something that actually brought your family some honor, and cleared the name a little.

You felt the cold barel of a gun against the back of your head.

You muttered with a resignant sigh, "Ich werde nicht aufgeben, also töte mich."

‘I won't surrender, so kill me.’

You expected the near-empty vault to be the last thing you saw. You thought it would all go dark in a moment, which you didn't mind so much. Dying for the OSS was redemption. A part of you hoped for a bright white light to come after it all.. Instead...You kept looking at the dark vault. You raised your eyebrow, and looked over in confusion, annoyance, and impatience. Wicki noted your German. True you had an accent he couldn't quite pin, but it was German. And you were in the nazi's gala... The math wasn't so hard. He pushed his gun coarsely against your head, as he muttered "Mach einen Schritt. Ein verdammter Schritt, und ich nehme dir das Leben." ‘Take one step. One fucking step, and I'll take your life.’

You smiled a little and nodded to yourself. You looked back at him. Something told you he wasn't a nazi. Despite his German, his uniform, and his gun... Perhaps it was the soul in his eyes. The way he tried to read you. Maybe it was just...sheer hope. Hope that maybe the most beautiful man you'd seen in your life, the most velvety voice you'd ever heard, didn't belong to a nazi. Still... You had some methods. Some rather unethical methods, but methods nonetheless. A seasoned criminal like you had her ways. You pulled him down to you, and murmured, "Dann werde ich dir den Atem rauben." ‘Then I'll take your breath away.’ You distracted him with a kiss, in which he was so confused, so lost, so...in love... The moment he saw you, he hoped you weren't a nazi. The odds were unlikely, To him, it looked like a rather eager cadet trying to save state secrets. All of it was wrong, but easily confused with the truth. And while he pondered, wondered, and hoped amid the brief, but effectively distracting kiss, you stole not only his breath, but his gun. You sat back, and held his gun. His eyes went wide... You couldn't help but smirk a  little seeing a light smear of your red lipstick over the side of his mouth. You also couldn't help but smirk a little at his indignant reaction when you tugged at the collar of your dress... The only part of yourself you were exposing was your loyalty to the allies. You showed a patch embroidered into the inside of your dress. It was a golden spearhead, withing a gold oval, over a black background.

The OSS' insignia. As he was still breathelss from you, your 'method', and your truth, you collected the documents, turned back to him, folded his gun into his limp hand, and playfully patted the side of his cheek as you joked, "Better luck next time, corporal." You walked out of the room, back to the ballroom, and acknowldged a third presence in the room. "Guten Abend, Oberfeldwebel."

’Good evening, sergeant.’ Wicki quickly turned around and found Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz standing there.

You had spotted Hugo standing there the instant you turned around. And being so dedicated to the OSS, you'd memorized the face of every single agent stationed in France, including the basterds, just to avoid any friendly fire. Wicki watched you walk out with the files, then looked back at Hugo, the newest basterd. "Wie lange stehst du schon da?"

‘How long have you been standing there?’ Hugo just smirked in response. Wicki furrowed his brows, "Die ganze Zeit?!?" ‘The whole time?!?’ Hugo nodded slightly, still smirking, "Ja." "Warum hast du mir nicht geholfen?!" ‘Why didn't you help me?!’ "Du sahst aus, als hättest du eine gute Zeit." Hugo shrugged a little, as he turned back to the main room, hearing Aldo's muffled voice through the walls, "You looked like you were having a good time." Wicki grunted and rolled his eyes as he walked with Hugo back to the party. You were standing in the middle of the room. Vandals and Basterds had guns on each other, and on the nazis. You had the files up in the air. Aldo called out to the hit-man, the vandal's leader. "That girl one o' yours, or theirs?" Your leader, a former bootlegger and hit-man for the Chicago mob nodded. Being a former mobster, he had a thing for loyalty, and protecting everyone under his wing. "Kid's ours." Two guns that had been aimed at you by young privates you’d come to know as Smitty and Hirschberg were swung around and aimed at nazis instead. You stepped forward and gave your lieutenant the files to be sent back to OSS headquarters. "TEN-HUT." The hit-man called his eight men and women to stand at attention. You all immediately lined up. Your mission was complete. The Basterds' was only beginning. "Move out." As your team left the basterds to do whatever they wished to the nazis, you looked back at one basterd one last time.

You winked, and turned as you marched out with your fellow ex-cons, current legends, and future unsung heroes. Wicki's heart skipped a beat... He heard Hugo snickering...somehow he'd seen that too. He turned to look at him, but something to Wicki that Hugo's lips were sealed. Not necesarily because he cared much about his corporal's friendhsip or his secrets, but because he was simply Hugo Stiglitz. Months passed, and the basterds had a rare night off. They left a tavern at about one in the morning. The cobblestone streets were desolate, save for the soft ellow glow of distant street lamps. They were about to step beyond the town’s limit, into the forest, when they heard something. The only sound was soft footsteps coming toward them. Aldo narrowed his eyes, "Stand down, boys..." He called out into the mist, "Halt. Uhh...fermare....Arrêt!" The footsteps ceased. But the shadow of a figure stood still in the mist, illuminated only by a distant lamp in the streets. "Don't shoot. I have a message from the general."  Aldo narrowed his eyes, trying to make out a face, but he couldn't. "No sudden moves. Step closer. You reach for anything, or even think about it, and we'll blow your brains out, got it?" "Got it." An agonizingly slow minute passed and then a face emerged from the fog. "You..." Your eyes found Wicki among the basterds, as you smirked, "Me." Aldo couldn't quite see you clearly. In fact, he only saw you for a brief moment, a few months before, in which you were in make-up, an everning gown, and curled hair. Now, you were like them, a soldier hiding in plain sight. "And who are you?" You stood tall and strong, "A mongrel street rat. I get away with a lot..Have gotten away with a lot in the past. I was once a good thief. Used to be...Have been, lately. My name is Private Y/N L/N, I was part of the Vandals." Donny raised an eyebrow in suspicion, "Last we heard, your team got shipped out the Sicily. What're you doin' all the way out here." You held out an envelope, "Everything you need to know is here." Aldo took the letter. It was a mission from the OSS, and a note from the General. "Private L/N will be joining us as a basterd until further notice...general here says your skills are integral in our next mission."

You smirked a little, "Did he now?" The general had been opposed to giving  matters of international security to a rag tag team of delinquents. But when your team proved to be key, he realized perhaps sending one of you to the basterds was necessary for their continued surivival. Aldo sighed, not having anticipated the idea of having another young basterd in his command. "Alright." He looked to Donny who nodded, "Ten-hut." You all stood in a line, and Aldo said, "When I call your name, you step, or stagger forward." He called each basterds' name except for yours, and called out their ranks, and where in the army they were before they came to the basterds. He looked at his men, "This kid might be an ex-con singin’ jailbird, but she's a goddamn basterd. You treat her as one, or I'll be seein' you, ya hear?" The boys grumbled. Some having heard rumors about the vandals, and you. Aldo sighed, "I was a bootlegger, Hugo was a murderer technically. Give this kid a chance." Aldo looked down at the letter again, then back at you, "Says here you speak German pretty good for a yank..." You nodded, "My parents left Munich just before I was born, sir. Twenty-four years later, I'm back, lookin' right at what they ran from... " Wicki was looking at you, awe behind his eyes, barely breathing, his heart nearly beating through his chest. Hugo leaned in and muttered, "Get it together, Austria."

You smiled a little, and followed the basterds to their hideout. You had a long day ahead of you. Your mission the next day was to break into a facility run by the nazis. There, you would retrieve a list of names and identities of nazis that were infiltrating the allies. You were tying up your boots , just before dawn, when you heard Aldo outside saying, "I need one of you to stand by Y/N. The nazis' gon' know what we're after, and I don't want that kid to be in the line of fire without any cover." Wicki didn't even hesitate, surprising himself, "I'll do it."

Aldo nodded, without a second thought about it. He had so much else running through his mind. The rest of the boys had caught on to Hugo's teasing smirks, and your comments to Wicki. Donny slung his back against his shoulder, reached over, and patted Wicki on the back, "Hey, the old man's still got it." Wicki smiled a little, then realized it wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be easy to love someone during war. Knowing you were always in danger, always eyed through a nazi's scope, it wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be easy to get his breath back... You pulled your pack over your shoulders, and stepped out, running into Wicki. You smiled a little and remarked, "Come here to get your heart back, huh?" He stepped back, and cleared his throat. It definitely wouldn't be easy. He rubbed the back of his neck, "Aldo...Aldo says I gotta keep an eye on you out there, kid."

You smiled a little, looking down at your sleeves as you rolled them up, "Oh...Aldo says, huh?" Wicki nodded, affirming his white lie, "Yeah. Orders are orders...So, don't get us killed." You playfully punched his arm and promised with a soft intonation, "Ich werde nicht." 

‘I won't.’

Wicki, for the first time in years, fell for a girl...

There had been a few through the years...but not like you. Not in a decade or so...

Since he left Austria, no girl had ever managed to make him fall as hard as you had.

It wasn't an easy fall...

And that night, he guarded you with his life.

Maybe too much.

You weren't exactly the helpless type. You weren't sure what the boys had heard about you, but either way, you weren't  quite in the damsel in distress category. And you didn't really appreciate being treated as such.

Especially when it put other basterds in danger.

You turned around, clinging onto the files. You could hear an endless storm of gunfire outside, the basterds clearing a path for your escape.

Meanwhile, Wicki was in danger.

"WIL!!!"  You knocked WIcki down onto the ground, as you held the files in your left arm, and a gun out with your right, shooting down a line of nazis.

He looked up at you, his eyes soft as his voice "What did you call me?"

You cleared your throat as you climbed off him, and pulled him to his feet, "N-nothing, corporal....Nothing."

He looked at you, the files, and the nazis you had just gunned down for him.

He kissed you...

You could keep his heart,  because this time, he stole yours, and your breath. You were even, now...

You looked up at Wick. This time, you breathless, speechless, but full of love, courage, and life.

For once in your life, you weren't sure if you could steal something back.

But, this time...just this once, looking up at Wicki’s smug grin, and loving eyes, you were ok with that.

#Wilhelm Wicki #wilhelm wicki x reader #Inglourious Basterds

[pingo1387]

Teach Me

OP Secret Santa 2019 @opsecretsanta2019  For @nevermordor  Relationships: Usopp & Franky (platonic), hint of ZoLu in the background  Happy holidays! 

Usopp, bent over his workshop table as he tinkered with spices and gunpowder, jumped at the BANG when something was slammed down in front of him. He looked up to see Franky, who stared at him for a moment before looking away, pouting. 

“What?” he said at last. He looked down and pushed his things aside, picking up the paper Franky had slammed down. “A blank wanted poster? Thirty million beris? What is this?” 

“The deer-kid’s birthday’s tomorrow, right?” Franky said, still looking away. 

“Chopper? Yeah, what about it?” The crew had gone to great lengths to hide their presents from Chopper, since living on a ship together meant there weren’t many places to hide things. Fortunately, he didn’t suspect a thing, and as far as he knew all that was happening was that Sanji would bake him a cake. 

“He’s pretty bummed about his bounty, right? I figured I’d make him a new poster. Thing is, I . . . how do I say this?” 

“You don’t know what kind of pose or face he should be making?” Usopp said, looking up. “That’s easy! He—” 

“That’s not it! I know exactly what I want it to look like!” Franky finally turned his head to look at Usopp again, scowling with pink cheeks. “I just can’t draw it.” 

“Oh. I—hey, isn’t your face made of metal? How are you blushing?” 

“Neat, isn’t it? I built in these thin pouches just below my face, which fill up with a reddening agent when my body temperature—” 

“Never mind, never mind! So, what are you saying? You want me, the great artist, to teach you to draw?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Franky said, deflating again. “Yeah. If you’re not busy?” 

“Nope,” Usopp said, sweeping an arm out and knocking away his supplies. They fell onto the floor and smoke started rising from the wood. As he stomped on the flame, wincing, Usopp continued, “Where’s Chopper now? He can’t come down here while we’re working on this.” 

“Playing in the snow with Strawhat and the swordsman,” Franky said. “I’m pretty sure they’ll keep him busy long enough to get this done.” 

The cold weather had forced the Sunny to run into a large patch of slush, slowing their progress towards Sabaody but not halting it entirely. As such, the crew was taking it easy, their only necessary job currently being making sure the ship hadn’t frozen to the sea while they slept and they were still on course. 

“Okay, that’s good,” Usopp said, nodding. He grinned and scooted aside, patting the spot next to him at the table, and Franky sat down. “I see you already have most of the poster drawn?” 

“Of course,” Franky said, folding his arms. “Shapes and letters are easy.” 

“Right, right. Now, let the master show you how it’s done!” 

“Just start already!” 

~ 

“What do you mean, you’ve never built a snowman?” Luffy demanded, placing his hands on his hips. “It was snowing all the time on Drum, wasn’t it? And you never built a snowman?” 

“I don’t—what’s a snowman?” Chopper exclaimed, looking between him and Zoro. “Show me!” 

“Oh, boy,” Zoro said with a sigh. “You have a lot to learn about the world.” 

“Huh? Show me! Show me!” 

“Okay!” Luffy exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. “First, we’re gonna make a snowball!” 

“Uh-huh?” 

“Then, we do this!” Luffy dropped to his knees, scooped up snow, packed it together, and started rolling it around. The light snow falling around them ensured they wouldn’t run out anytime soon. 

“Luffy, you’re too inefficient,” Zoro said, shaking his head. He took the ball from Luffy and started pushing it, running at top speed around the ship until it was about half his height. “See, that’s how you roll a snowman.” 

“Zoro!” Chopper cheered, grinning. “You’re amazing!” 

“Of course. Luffy, you do the head.” 

“Let me help,” Chopper exclaimed. He and Luffy pushed the next snowball together, around and around until it was about half as large as the first one. “What now?” 

~ 

“They’re really going at it now,” Nami remarked, peering out the kitchen window as Chopper jumped for joy and started building his own snowman. She sat back down at the table. “Sanji-kun, more hot chocolate.” 

“Of course, my love,” Sanji crooned, scooping up the pot from the stove and pouring her another cupful. 

“With whipped cream!” 

“Yes, Nami-san!” 

“How marvelous youth is, to waste your days away playing in the snow,” Brook said wistfully from the couch. “Alas, these old bones must rest today. Speaking of youth, where did Usopp-san and Franky-san get to?” 

Robin, sitting across from Nami, closed her eyes. “They’re below deck, drawing something,” she said, opening them again. “Franky looks awfully serious.” 

“More hot chocolate, Robin-chan?” Sanji offered. 

“No, thank you.” 

“Franky, Franky,” Nami said, sticking her tongue into her whipped cream and bringing a dollop back into her mouth. “Did he ever tell you how he picked that name?” 

“Not exactly,” Robin said. “He mentioned everyone’s called him that since he was small, and I suppose he made the permanent change along with his body.” 

“What about you?” Nami said. 

“My name? My name was always Robin. I never had issues with it. I suppose I’m lucky, in that sense.” She smiled. “The Government never had to update the name on my bounty. It’s a shame . . . I would have loved to make things harder for them.” 

Nami laughed, and Brook said, “Sanji-san, might I have another hot chocolate?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just a fucking second!” 

~ 

“People are too soft,” Franky complained as he erased yet more lines of a sketch, scowling and biting the end of his pencil. 

“Huh?” Usopp said. “Is that some kind of statement on mankind?” 

“No, I mean this drawing! Lines are hard, and people are soft!” 

“Oh. Look, let’s go over it again.” Usopp leaned forward. “How about drawing the body first, and then the face?” 

Franky sighed and rested his forehead against his hand. “Okay. Yeah.” 

“Start with shapes. Do a circle for his head, and lines for his arms.” 

Franky leaned over, drew the shapes, and leaned back again. “Easy.” 

“Yeah! So, now draw on his hat. It’s more or less a cylinder surrounded by a raised circle.” 

“Uh-huh?” Franky drew this in, and after a moment of thought added what showed of the X on the hat. 

“Now for details.” Franky groaned. “Just listen! You go off of the shapes you drew, and make them softer. Lemme show you.” Usopp grabbed a spare piece of paper, sketched a circle, and sketched fuzz around it. “See? The fur sticks to your base shape.” 

“Hmm?” Franky’s eyes lit up. “I think I get it!” 

“Yeah? Yeah! Give it a go!” 

~ 

“Wow!” Chopper exclaimed, looking around at the three snowmen he, Luffy, and Zoro had built—one for each of them. “That was so fun!” 

“Playing in the snow is always fun!” Luffy said with a grin. He took off his hat and placed it on his snowman. “Now Mister Snowy’s warm.” 

“Oh!” Chopper took off his own hat and put it on his snowman, which was around his height. “There we go!” 

They looked at Zoro. 

“What?” he said. “I don’t wear hats.” 

“Use your earrings,” Luffy suggested. 

“Isn’t the point to keep the snowman warm? How would earrings help?” 

“Give him your jacket?” Chopper said. 

“Don’t wanna.” 

“Then I’ll warm up Zoro-snowman,” Luffy announced. 

“His name is Zoro-man.” 

Luffy leaned in and kissed the snowman on the cheek. “There, he’s warm now,” he said. 

“Don’t I get one?” Zoro muttered. 

~ 

“Anybody wanna play strip poker?” Nami asked, running her finger around the rim of her empty mug. 

“With you? I’ll pass,” Robin said. 

“Yes, please,” Sanji and Brook said together, hurrying to the table. Robin rolled her eyes and went to sit on the couch, curling up with her legs underneath her. 

Nami pulled out a deck of cards from her pocket and handed them to Sanji. “Shuffle,” she ordered. 

~ 

“I really think I got it this time,” Franky said, the lamplight burning low as he examined his inked drawing. He held it up to Usopp. “Right? Didn’t I?” 

“You did!” Usopp exclaimed, grinning. “That looks just like him! Now you just need to color it!” 

“I’ll let the ink dry first,” Franky said. He held up his hand, and Usopp high-fived him and winced. Franky set some weights on the paper to keep it in place on the table before standing and yanking Usopp to his feet. “Let’s see what curly’s got cookin’ for dinner!” 

They came up to the deck and found Zoro picking up Chopper. “Hey,” he said, seeing them. “We were about to go in.” 

“I’m hungry,” Luffy announced. 

“Of course you are,” Usopp said. “Is Chopper okay?” 

“Just tired,” Chopper said into Zoro’s shoulder. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Zoro said. 

When they entered the kitchen, they found Robin asleep on the couch, Sanji stripped down to his underwear, Brook stripped to his bones, and Nami fully clothed, putting away a deck of cards. 

“D-Dinner’s . . . almost ready,” Sanji said, shivering. 

~ 

“Huh?” Chopper said, looking at the roll of paper. He had cried when the crew surprised him with gifts, and was sitting in the kitchen among his new treasures, which included a new book from Robin and a superhero mask and cape from Usopp. “Franky, this one’s from you? It’s a sheet of paper?” 

“Unroll it,” Franky insisted. 

Chopper let the paper unroll itself, stared at it, and gasped. “It’s a new bounty!” he exclaimed. “Look, look! Thirty million!” 

His picture showed him with a proud grin facing the camera, his arms folded and brow furrowed in determination. It was expertly colored and inked, and though the drawing showed hints of amateurism, Chopper didn’t seem to notice as he excitedly showed it off to the crew. 

“Franky, you made that?” Luffy exclaimed. “That’s awesome! Maybe the Marines’ll see it and update your bounty for real!” 

“You think?” Chopper said, delighted. “Franky, thanks so much! It’s super!” 

“Aw, no problem!” Franky said, grinning. “Usopp helped a little, to be honest . . .” 

Usopp punched his arm and winced. Franky slapped him on the back, making his knees buckle. 

“I’m gonna go hang this up in the bedroom,” Chopper announced, standing. “This is my favorite birthday!” 

#opsecretsanta2019 #one piece #usopp #franky #zolu #opfanfic #chopper #me peeking thru ur blog: a trans fr/obin supporter? i see you are one of culture as well [puts it in the fic] #writing adventures

[maxismatchccworld]

Patch Notes June 2019

UPDATE: 6/18/2019 – PC 1.52.100.1020 / Mac 1.52.100.1220

Hiya Simmers!

Is it hot outside, or is that just my gland problem? Anyway, let’s not worry about that - we’ve got some awesome new stuff to talk about! With all this Summer heat and with Sims 4 Island Living’s release just around the corner, we’ve got a few new free updates we are so excited to share with you! So let’s slap on some sunglasses, squeeze into that swimsuit, and dive on in...

What’s New?

Randomize Traits Button:

A Randomize Traits button has been added to CAS and in the Live Mode Age-Up Molecule. Oh yes, it’s now just right there, waiting to be clicked. Over and over and over and over. I can’t really believe it either, but here it is. The dark days without this small hero are now just a distant unpleasant memory. From here on out, if you just want to grab-and-go your Sim’s personality and get the heck outta CAS, or if you want to add a little challenge to who your Sims might be, it’s just one click away. Jeepers, this feels good. Seriously, I’ve been wanting this forever.

Lounge Chair:

Everyone (even you) gets a FREE LOUNGE CHAIR! That’s right, we’ve added a delightfully Portable Lounge Chair, so you can now lounge by the pool the way you’ve always wanted: Laid back. With your mind on your Simoleons and your Simoleons on your mind.

It’s Pride Month!

Show your pride with some fantastically colorful new clothing. The rainbow leggings are my personal favorite. Nah, maybe the body suit is my favorite. But now that you mention it, I can’t stop dressing my Sims in the new t-shirts -- created in partnership with the It Gets Better Project -- so I guess I just love it all! In addition, we’ve also included a selection of decorative Pride flags for hanging on your Sims’ walls. Finally, we’ve updated our bathroom door sets in-game so that every bathroom door also includes a gender-neutral version for builders, and includes a full suite of color swatches for mixing and matching to your heart’s content. Happy Pride Month, everyone!

Stilt Foundations:

Or as I like to call them, High Heels for your House. Or House Heels. These things don’t need to be limited to just the tropics. Stilts are a great partner in crime to manipulated and flat terrain alike in any biosphere. You can find them in Build Mode alongside all the other regular Foundation types. Now go get your stilt on.

Further Eaves Extension:

Now you can pull your Eaves… further.

More Door Colors:

Ok, we may have gone a bit overboard here… There are 350 new color swatches spread across all of the doors and arches in the base game catalog. If you’ve ever wanted matching doors in Light Brown, Reddish Brown, Brown, Dark Brown, Gray, White, or Black, then this is certainly the update for you!

A Couple New Lot Traits:

Clothing Optional: This new venue-only lot trait will inspire your Sims to -- you guessed it -- get nude.

Off-The-Grid: Now you can live out your nomadic fantasy on any lot. Applying this lot trait will remove your Sim’s use of power and running water, but on the upside it keeps your bills down. Keep a lookout for existing objects with the “Works Off-The-Grid” note in the Buy Catalog.

More Toddler Diaper Colors:

We added some L’il Swimmies Splashy Diapers! You don’t necessarily have to use them for splashing in the water, but that’s where our brains were at when we made them. We made these not only in anticipation for Island Living, but we also thought you’d appreciate more swimming options for your toddlers to use in the Seasons Kiddie Pool.

Back Float:

A new Back Float interaction is available for Sims swimming in the pool. Click on that water. Try it out. Take a load off.

Fishing Additions:

Brace yourself, we’re about to cast you into a deep dive…

We added several new interactions to allow players to fish in different ways and interact with other Sims around fishing activities.

Sims can perform a few new Fishing-based socials to gain useful info (via UI TNS/Notebook) and push NPCs to Fish.

Fishing is now joinable.

Improved fishing interaction tuning and autonomy to make the interaction more efficient and fun.

Upper skill levels now provide more meaningful rewards, with new Interactions added to Fishing skill levels

New high skill cast interaction “Angle for Big Catch” increases chance of getting rarer fish.

New high-skill VFX visuals on Rare fishing spots.

Ability to now “Mentor Sims in Fishing.”

Fishing UI has improved information, including Notebook info with Bait information.

Tuning for fish that can be caught is unique per world & more fishing spots added to some of our previously shipped worlds.

New bait preference system applied to most existing fish that modify catch chances.

Ceiling Fan Updates:

Ceiling Fans will now cool a room if you have Seasons and the fan is on. Oh yeah, speaking of which, we also added the ability to turn them On and Off. And while we were at it, we figured we’d make them dry off damp Sims too.

Ceiling Objects Build Sort:

We also added a new Ceiling Objects Build sort category to make things like Fans easier to find.

Swimming Things:

There is now a chance for interesting things to happen to your Sims while swimming, like getting a cramp or losing their suit (eek!). Swimming also now gives your Sims a boost in Fitness skill gain.

Part-Time Jobs Update:

And last but not least (you still with me?) all existing Part-Time Jobs are no longer just for Teens. That’s right, now elders could work as Fast Food Employees. Young Adults could be Babysitters if they want. Why not? The Part-Time world is your oyster. Oh oh oh -- and one last thing on that note: You can now have two Part-Time Jobs at once and pick between shifts. Wowee.

And now on to the unintended features…

General Issues.

Toddler’s Needs will now always be refilled while they’re at daycare.

Exterior trim now correctly applies to rounded flat blocks.

Adult Sims will now be able to successfully put Toddlers to bed. I wonder what their secret is. I may need to tap them for tips.

Sims on fire are now able to safely extinguish themselves in a pool. That’s refreshing.

The Dizzy Palms Ceiling Fan’s blades now tilt in the right direction.

Toddlers will no longer be put down from the high chair before they’ve finished eating. Patience mama, they’re still learning.

Gender Preference now affects flirt options.

Teen Sims will no longer spin into their Everyday outfit when going to school. If Randy wants to wear his swim trunks to school, well that’s Randy’s business.

Flirting with another Sim in a group conversation no longer increases the entire group’s Romance with you. That was awkward.

NPC Invites for Talent Showcase and Lounge will now take you to the appropriate venue.

We have fixed that bizarre issue where you’d have your Sims travel home, and then you load into your home lot, and your Sim’s skewer thumbnails are all greyed out like they’re not there, but when you hover over the skewer it tells you your Sims are at home. But like, they’re not at home. You’re staring at this empty lot, unable to play your Sims and you’re like.. “Is this even my home?”. And you start to question whether you selected the right lot on the map, but then you’re like “Wait, yeah - this is totally my home. But where are my Sims? It’s telling me they’re at home, but they’re not here.” Anyway, this should be fixed now.

Ghosts will no longer be obsessively calling you 5-ish times a day to see if you want to come over and hang out. They’ve been working on their self-control and are limited to at most one call per day now.

Terrain Paint now functions properly on Laptop Mode for AMD graphics cards.

NPC Sims will no longer get a sudden need to get nude after waking up if they have traveled off-lot and returned while you are visiting them. This one was weird. I wish I could show you the bug video.

Get Famous

We’ve toned down the amount of excitement that occurs when a celebrity makes an appearance outside of Del Sol Valley. They should be showing up outside of Del Sol Valley less often as well, so that should cut down on the ruckus.

It was a setup! I’ve been framed! It wasn’t me, I swear! You’ll pay for this! You got the wrong guy, it was Wilma! Wilma, I tell you! Celebrity Sims will no longer be falsely accused of stealing things. And for Wilma’s sake, I hope they get over what happened in the past.

Captain Sigma’s Gig costume no longer includes a chicken mask. That was a fowl fashion choice.

Performing “Tell a Group Story” Interaction Goals will now complete for the Fan Meet & Greet Event.

We fixed the issue with Del Sol Valley’s terrain disappearing when View Distance was set to High. Graphics cards (that we know of) that were affected by the issue:

Intel HD Graphics 3000

Intel HD Graphics 4000

AMD Radeon R6 Graphics

ATI Mobility Radeon HD 5145

NVIDIA GT 120

We fixed the Del Sol Valley skyline texture glitch after exiting CAS.

Elder Sims will no longer have the option to retire from the Acting Career, just to be met with a sad, sad reality. Before they were taunted with a TNS telling them they got this big great pension and now they can sit back and relax, but the pension amount was §0. That’s just so dark…

Seasons

Now, if you travel during a holiday, the holiday decorations on your neighbor’s homes will be removed after the holiday ends. They were admittedly being either a bit overly festive or just a tad lazy. Either way, it’s been dealt with.

Sims will no longer gluttonously guzzle/gulp/slurp/chug water/milk/orange juice during events. No need to be so shellfish.

Jogging Vampires will no longer hold an umbrella while jogging because that’s just silly.

Coffee and Tea is safe to drink again. Sims will no longer receive the “Lethal Heat” buff and die upon returning home after drinking three hot beverages.

Cats & Dogs

Strays can now eat and use litter boxes without having to make the lot a Cat Hangout. You poor poor babies. You’re safe now.

Existing Sims/Saves will once again be able to lecture their pets. Now you can let Biscuit know how you truly feel when she jumps up on the counter.

It’s been ongoing, but we are actively calming those overly excited pets. Your queue should no longer fill up with a stack of a zillion bubbles from your pets when you run certain interactions. We’ve been working on this issue for a while with a few other fixes, but it’s been rearing its head with new repro steps here and there. So hopefully this fish sticks.

Having a puppy or kitten nearby will no longer interrupt your Sim’s bath or shower. We swear they weren’t doing that on porpoise.

Sims are now able to walk through doors with Country Curtains.

City Living

Building pieces in apartments will no longer be invisible when viewing from the upper floor. That must have been very disconcerting to not know what happened to your stuff.

Cleared out some pesky extra plants floating around the Romance Festival.

Your Sims should now be able to buy art from the Street Gallery object during a Yard Sale.

Oh this one’s a doozy. Get this: Talking John and Potty Mouth 2.0 toilets no longer play their sound on an endless loop when a child Sim runs the Use & Massage interaction, even after the toilet is destroyed. Bonus points to SimGuruJill for keeping a straight face writing that one.

Foundations will no longer cut out the floor of a Penthouse.

Get Together

Empty Clubs will no longer linger in your Clubs Panel. They are now self-aware enough to know when the party’s over and it is time to go home.

Get To Work

Coworkers are now spawning for the Science career. Yes, they missed you too.

Breast Feed is no longer available for male Sim parents of non-alien babies. Only alien spawn possess the cosmic knowledge of the most nourishing MANaries.

Strangerville

We fixed some buggy dog-walking behavior in Strangerville.

We shortened up the time it takes to complete the Give Orders Daily Task in the Courageous Captain Rank of the Officer Branch of the Military Career. That was a mouthful.

Jungle Adventure

You will no longer receive countless notifications when you leave your kitten or puppy at home while vacationing in Selvadorada.

Vampires

Vampire Sims will now once again gain points after they reach the Grandmaster level on pre-April (2019) patch saves.

Your Vampires will no longer be unrightfully chastised by NPCs for drinking their blood after they specifically asked if it was ok. Like, I’m trying to be polite here and you said it was fine, and now you’re like all bent about it… what gives?

Perfect Sun Resistance Vampires will no longer use umbrellas when routing in the sun. Flaunt it, baby.

We fixed the weirdness with trying to add points while drinking the Draught of Reconfiguration. Now you should be able to add points just fine and your options won’t be greyed out.

Cured Vampires will now change body temperature. Why you gotta be so cold?

Laundry Day

Sims will now hold laundry bags the right way. What is the right way, you ask? Trust me, it’s better than how they were holding it before.

And now to wrap it all up, let’s get playing! I hope you enjoy your summer updates and have yourself one wonderful day today.

Stay Cheesy,

-SimGuruJill

#s4cc #s4mm #ts4cc #ts4mm #maxis match #thesims4 #s4 patch notes

[thesims4blogger]

The Sims 4: New Game Patch (June 18th, 2019)

Remove all MODS and Custom Content before updating your game

UPDATE: 6/18/2019 – PC 1.52.100.1020 / Mac 1.52.100.1220

Hiya Simmers! Is it hot outside, or is that just my gland problem? Anyway, let’s not worry about that – we’ve got some awesome new stuff to talk about! With all this Summer heat and with Sims 4 Island Living’s release just around the corner, we’ve got a few new free updates we are so excited to share with you! So let’s slap on some sunglasses, squeeze into that swimsuit, and dive on in… What’s New?

Randomize Traits Button:

A Randomize Traits button has been added to CAS and in the Live Mode Age-Up Molecule. Oh yes, it’s now just right there, waiting to be clicked. Over and over and over and over. I can’t really believe it either, but here it is. The dark days without this small hero are now just a distant unpleasant memory. From here on out, if you just want to grab-and-go your Sim’s personality and get the heck outta CAS, or if you want to add a little challenge to who your Sims might be, it’s just one click away. Jeepers, this feels good. Seriously, I’ve been wanting this forever. Lounge Chair:

Everyone (even you) gets a FREE LOUNGE CHAIR! That’s right, we’ve added a delightfully Portable Lounge Chair, so you can now lounge by the pool the way you’ve always wanted: Laid back. With your mind on your Simoleons and your Simoleons on your mind. It’s Pride Month!

Show your pride with some fantastically colorful new clothing. The rainbow leggings are my personal favorite. Nah, maybe the body suit is my favorite. But now that you mention it, I can’t stop dressing my Sims in the new t-shirts — created in partnership with the It Gets Better Project — so I guess I just love it all! In addition, we’ve also included a selection of decorative Pride flags for hanging on your Sims’ walls. Finally, we’ve updated our bathroom door sets in-game so that every bathroom door also includes a gender-neutral version for builders, and includes a full suite of color swatches for mixing and matching to your heart’s content. Happy Pride Month, everyone! Stilt Foundations:

Or as I like to call them, High Heels for your House. Or House Heels. These things don’t need to be limited to just the tropics. Stilts are a great partner in crime to manipulated and flat terrain alike in any biosphere. You can find them in Build Mode alongside all the other regular Foundation types. Now go get your stilt on. Further Eaves Extension:

Now you can pull your Eaves… further. More Door Colors:

Ok, we may have gone a bit overboard here… There are 350 new color swatches spread across all of the doors and arches in the base game catalog. If you’ve ever wanted matching doors in Light Brown, Reddish Brown, Brown, Dark Brown, Gray, White, or Black, then this is certainly the update for you! A Couple New Lot Traits:

Clothing Optional: This new venue-only lot trait will inspire your Sims to — you guessed it — get nude.

Off-The-Grid: Now you can live out your nomadic fantasy on any lot. Applying this lot trait will remove your Sim’s use of power and running water, but on the upside it keeps your bills down. Keep a lookout for existing objects with the “Works Off-The-Grid” note in the Buy Catalog.

More Toddler Diaper Colors:

We added some L’il Swimmies Splashy Diapers! You don’t necessarily have to use them for splashing in the water, but that’s where our brains were at when we made them. We made these not only in anticipation for Island Living, but we also thought you’d appreciate more swimming options for your toddlers to use in the Seasons Kiddie Pool. Back Float:

A new Back Float interaction is available for Sims swimming in the pool. Click on that water. Try it out. Take a load off. Fishing Additions:

Brace yourself, we’re about to cast you into a deep dive…

We added several new interactions to allow players to fish in different ways and interact with other Sims around fishing activities.

Sims can perform a few new Fishing-based socials to gain useful info (via UI TNS/Notebook) and push NPCs to Fish.

Fishing is now joinable.

Improved fishing interaction tuning and autonomy to make the interaction more efficient and fun.

Upper skill levels now provide more meaningful rewards, with new Interactions added to Fishing skill levels

New high skill cast interaction “Angle for Big Catch” increases chance of getting rarer fish.

New high-skill VFX visuals on Rare fishing spots.

Ability to now “Mentor Sims in Fishing.”

Fishing UI has improved information, including Notebook info with Bait information.

Tuning for fish that can be caught is unique per world & more fishing spots added to some of our previously shipped worlds.

New bait preference system applied to most existing fish that modify catch chances.

Ceiling Fan Updates:

Ceiling Fans will now cool a room if you have Seasons and the fan is on. Oh yeah, speaking of which, we also added the ability to turn them On and Off. And while we were at it, we figured we’d make them dry off damp Sims too. Ceiling Objects Build Sort:

We also added a new Ceiling Objects Build sort category to make things like Fans easier to find. Swimming Things:

There is now a chance for interesting things to happen to your Sims while swimming, like getting a cramp or losing their suit (eek!). Swimming also now gives your Sims a boost in Fitness skill gain. Part-Time Jobs Update:

And last but not least (you still with me?) all existing Part-Time Jobs are no longer just for Teens. That’s right, now elders could work as Fast Food Employees. Young Adults could be Babysitters if they want. Why not? The Part-Time world is your oyster. Oh oh oh — and one last thing on that note: You can now have two Part-Time Jobs at once and pick between shifts. Wowee. And now on to the unintended features… General Issues.

Toddler’s Needs will now always be refilled while they’re at daycare.

Exterior trim now correctly applies to rounded flat blocks.

Adult Sims will now be able to successfully put Toddlers to bed. I wonder what their secret is. I may need to tap them for tips.

Sims on fire are now able to safely extinguish themselves in a pool. That’s refreshing.

The Dizzy Palms Ceiling Fan’s blades now tilt in the right direction.

Toddlers will no longer be put down from the high chair before they’ve finished eating. Patience mama, they’re still learning.

Gender Preference now affects flirt options.

Teen Sims will no longer spin into their Everyday outfit when going to school. If Randy wants to wear his swim trunks to school, well that’s Randy’s business.

Flirting with another Sim in a group conversation no longer increases the entire group’s Romance with you. That was awkward.

NPC Invites for Talent Showcase and Lounge will now take you to the appropriate venue.

We have fixed that bizarre issue where you’d have your Sims travel home, and then you load into your home lot, and your Sim’s skewer thumbnails are all greyed out like they’re not there, but when you hover over the skewer it tells you your Sims are at home. But like, they’re not at home. You’re staring at this empty lot, unable to play your Sims and you’re like.. “Is this even my home?”. And you start to question whether you selected the right lot on the map, but then you’re like “Wait, yeah – this is totally my home. But where are my Sims? It’s telling me they’re at home, but they’re not here.” Anyway, this should be fixed now.

Ghosts will no longer be obsessively calling you 5-ish times a day to see if you want to come over and hang out. They’ve been working on their self-control and are limited to at most one call per day now.

Terrain Paint now functions properly on Laptop Mode for AMD graphics cards.

NPC Sims will no longer get a sudden need to get nude after waking up if they have traveled off-lot and returned while you are visiting them. This one was weird. I wish I could show you the bug video.

Get Famous

We’ve toned down the amount of excitement that occurs when a celebrity makes an appearance outside of Del Sol Valley. They should be showing up outside of Del Sol Valley less often as well, so that should cut down on the ruckus.

It was a setup! I’ve been framed! It wasn’t me, I swear! You’ll pay for this! You got the wrong guy, it was Wilma! Wilma, I tell you! Celebrity Sims will no longer be falsely accused of stealing things. And for Wilma’s sake, I hope they get over what happened in the past.

Captain Sigma’s Gig costume no longer includes a chicken mask. That was a fowl fashion choice.

Performing “Tell a Group Story” Interaction Goals will now complete for the Fan Meet & Greet Event.

We fixed the issue with Del Sol Valley’s terrain disappearing when View Distance was set to High. Graphics cards (that we know of) that were affected by the issue:

We fixed the Del Sol Valley skyline texture glitch after exiting CAS.

Elder Sims will no longer have the option to retire from the Acting Career, just to be met with a sad, sad reality. Before they were taunted with a TNS telling them they got this big great pension and now they can sit back and relax, but the pension amount was §0. That’s just so dark…

Intel HD Graphics 3000

Intel HD Graphics 4000

AMD Radeon R6 Graphics

ATI Mobility Radeon HD 5145

NVIDIA GT 120

Seasons

Now, if you travel during a holiday, the holiday decorations on your neighbor’s homes will be removed after the holiday ends. They were admittedly being either a bit overly festive or just a tad lazy. Either way, it’s been dealt with.

Sims will no longer gluttonously guzzle/gulp/slurp/chug water/milk/orange juice during events. No need to be so shellfish.

Jogging Vampires will no longer hold an umbrella while jogging because that’s just silly.

Cats & Dogs

Strays can now eat and use litter boxes without having to make the lot a Cat Hangout. You poor poor babies. You’re safe now.

Existing Sims/Saves will once again be able to lecture their pets. Now you can let Biscuit know how you truly feel when she jumps up on the counter.

It’s been ongoing, but we are actively calming those overly excited pets. Your queue should no longer fill up with a stack of a zillion bubbles from your pets when you run certain interactions. We’ve been working on this issue for a while with a few other fixes, but it’s been rearing its head with new repro steps here and there. So hopefully this fish sticks.

Having a puppy or kitten nearby will no longer interrupt your Sim’s bath or shower. We swear they weren’t doing that on porpoise.

Sims are now able to walk through doors with Country Curtains.

City Living

Building pieces in apartments will no longer be invisible when viewing from the upper floor. That must have been very disconcerting to not know what happened to your stuff.

Cleared out some pesky extra plants floating around the Romance Festival.

Your Sims should now be able to buy art from the Street Gallery object during a Yard Sale.

Oh this one’s a doozy. Get this: Talking John and Potty Mouth 2.0 toilets no longer play their sound on an endless loop when a child Sim runs the Use & Massage interaction, even after the toilet is destroyed. Bonus points to SimGuruJill for keeping a straight face writing that one.

Foundations will no longer cut out the floor of a Penthouse.

Coffee and Tea is safe to drink again. Sims will no longer receive the “Lethal Heat” buff and die upon returning home after drinking three hot beverages.

Get Together

Empty Clubs will no longer linger in your Clubs Panel. They are now self-aware enough to know when the party’s over and it is time to go home.

Get To Work

Coworkers are now spawning for the Science career. Yes, they missed you too.

Breast Feed is no longer available for male Sim parents of non-alien babies. Only alien spawn possess the cosmic knowledge of the most nourishing MANaries.

Strangerville

We fixed some buggy dog-walking behavior in Strangerville.

We shortened up the time it takes to complete the Give Orders Daily Task in the Courageous Captain Rank of the Officer Branch of the Military Career. That was a mouthful.

Jungle Adventure

You will no longer receive countless notifications when you leave your kitten or puppy at home while vacationing in Selvadorada.

Vampires

Vampire Sims will now once again gain points after they reach the Grandmaster level on pre-April (2019) patch saves.

Your Vampires will no longer be unrightfully chastised by NPCs for drinking their blood after they specifically asked if it was ok. Like, I’m trying to be polite here and you said it was fine, and now you’re like all bent about it… what gives?

Perfect Sun Resistance Vampires will no longer use umbrellas when routing in the sun. Flaunt it, baby.

We fixed the weirdness with trying to add points while drinking the Draught of Reconfiguration. Now you should be able to add points just fine and your options won’t be greyed out.

Cured Vampires will now change body temperature. Why you gotta be so cold?

Laundry Day

Sims will now hold laundry bags the right way. What is the right way, you ask? Trust me, it’s better than how they were holding it before.

And now to wrap it all up, let’s get playing! I hope you enjoy your summer updates and have yourself one wonderful day today. Stay Cheesy,

-SimGuruJill

It's not mentioned in the patch notes, but actually yes! That issue should be fixed this patch. Please let me know if it's not! There were way too many bugs to mention every single one 😅

— SimGuruNick (@SimGuruNick) June 18, 2019

#news #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4

[maid-of-mourne-shore]

Why don’t you leave? - Bucky x Reader

Hello! This is my entry for  #elles1kwritingchallenge, hope you enjoy! @delicatelyherdreams

Beta read by: @thebatscribe

Summary: An aspiring doctor and an unorthodox mobster build a strange friendship, but in a world of crime, can it really last? 

Words: 10K (yikes)

Prompt: Why are you helping me? / Because I love you

Modern AU

Warnings: swear words, angst, guns, blood, gore and bad attempt at understanding poker lingo

Masterlist

“What fresh hell is this?” (Y/N) didn’t even let him sit down on the old, oak table, before laying into the man. She didn’t have to look at him to know it was bad, she could smell him, it was all over, the coppery taste of blood mingling with the air.

Bucky gave (Y/N) his signature smirk, the one where his eyebrow raises, putting those curious wrinkles on his forehead, tipping his head down towards her, letting those chestnut locks, fall forward. Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, waltzing over, emphasizing their height difference as he peered down at her. (Y/N) refused to back off when he tried to play coy, placing her hands on his firm chest, the first few buttons of the white dress shirt left open, guiding him to sit on the edge of the table, as she grabbed her supplies.

“Come on, not even a smile?” Bucky’s head leaned down to keep her eyes, pink lips perfectly pouting. She averted her gaze, bringing the medical kit to sit on his right side.

“Where does it hurt?” (Y/N) asked, keeping her face even, refusing to let him see just how worked up she was.

“Right here, baby doll,” Bucky sighed, as he pressed a hand over his heart, clutching the fabric of the shirt in his fist.  

“Oh, then I guess you don’t need me,” (Y/N) quipped, turning on her heel to march out of the room.  

“(Y/N), wait!” Before she can escape, he grabs her wrist, turning her to face him.  

“Don’t leave, please.” Bucky’s voice is low now, eyes turned stormy as he removes his black blazer, hissing as it pulls over aching muscles, letting it fall to the floor. She lets out a strangled gasp at the crimson stains over his left shoulder, a deep stab wound. He gives her a pained smile, puppy dog eyes looking up at her, already begging for forgiveness.  

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell have you done to yourself?” (Y/N)’s tone was angry, but her eyes were terrified, they always were. She put up a good fight, but (Y/N) could never hide, not from Bucky.  

“Doll, it’s a flesh wound!” Bucky whined, rolling his head back, eyelids fluttering shut.  

“James!” (Y/N) shouted, grabbing the front of his shirt, undoing the rest of the buttons, unable to think of anything witty to say.

“I’ve had way worse, and you know it,” he retorted, wincing as she pulled the shirt over his shoulders, down his arms, and onto the floor joining his blazer.  

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” Her eyes were warning him.  

“Do you need a drink?” She asked, getting straight back to work, pouring rubbing alcohol over clean gauze, pressing it to the gash, Bucky clenching his fists in response.

“Nah, fuck it, get it done,” he grunted.  

(Y/N) nodded, laying out all of the supplies, hoping to make the procedure as quick as possible. It was routine, done so many times before, a comfort to both of them as the room fell into silence, helping him lie back, placing a pillow under his head. Bucky let out a sharp hiss when she began with the needle, but quickly silenced himself. Bucky fucking hated this part, he really did, but if he’s heard crying out, he’ll become the butt of everyone’s jokes. For what he can’t express with screams and shouts, he makes up for by basking in her attention, grabbing onto her for comfort, whining so she would comb her fingers through his hair, or how she lets him hold her hand for a minute before she starts again. (Y/N) always called Bucky her needy, little pup, which was meant to be an insult, but it only spurred him on.  

The day he got shot for the first time, he even squeezed a kiss on the cheek out of her. In all honesty, Bucky was terrified, that shit hurt, but (Y/N)’s gentle touch, her mere presence calmed him down, talking him through it, guiding his breaths as she cauterized the wound. (Y/N) had given him a thick roll of gauze to bite down on, knowing how important it was to keep up appearances around here, prying ears would be right outside to see if this broke the boss's precious son. One hand held the tool to his skin, the other petted his cheek, whispering sweet words, encouraging him, telling him how well he was doing. Bucky held onto her like it was the only thing keeping him there, his knuckles white around her forearm, (Y/N) gritting her own teeth from the pain. When she finished, he refused to let her go until she properly rewarded him, insisting that he needed a kiss. Bucky expected (Y/N)’s typical, fiery response, maybe even a slap to the face, but he was shocked when she leaned down and he felt her soft lips on him, no coaxing needed.

“All done,” (Y/N) stated, cutting the thread.

“Thanks baby girl,” Bucky smiled up at her, the overhead light emphasizing his features. Straight nose, rosy pout, just enough stubble, dark locks splayed over the pillow, and those slate blue eyes. It would be so easy to let herself melt under him like all the other girls around, but when her eyes flitted back to his newly stitched wound, she felt the anger surge through her once more.  

“Don’t start with me.”

“Still mad?” Bucky sulked, as he heaved himself up to sit on the table, (Y/N) cleaning up her tools.  

“You have to ask?”  

“Not this again, (Y/N),” Bucky sighed as his feet found the floor.

“Yes, this again,” she snarled, slamming the drawer shut, turning to face him. “When are you going to stop being so reckless?”

“Kinda part of the job description, doll,” he stated, biting the last part.

“I wish you wouldn’t do it,” (Y/N) blurted out, standing straight up to him, her eyes boring into his.  

“I want you to be safe, I want you to take care of yourself, because I'm scared, James! I’m terrified that one day you’re not gonna come back, and there’s nothing that I can do about it.”

It was the same argument, the same conflict, the same back and forth every time he came skulking back to the hideout, full of bruises and blood, and it always ended in yelling and tears. Yet, the next time he was in need, it was back to the way things always were, cleaning his wounds, patching him back up, reluctantly sending him out to the fight. It was always the same, and it always hurt.

“(Y/N) enough,” Bucky warned, his voice dropping low and gruff.  

“Don’t try to intimidate me, James. I’m not one of your fathers lacky’s!”  

“What do you want from me, huh?” Bucky raised his hands, dropping them back to his sides, his eyes aflame. She felt herself shrinking under his gaze, tears threatening to fall, so she looked down to her feet, twiddling her fingers together as she leaned her back against the wall.  

“What? Do you want me to quit? Go live an honest life, (Y/N)?” He asked incredulously.

“You could,” she mumbled. Bucky snapped.  

“Just don’t get it, do ya?” He growled, standing dangerously close to her. “I can’t leave, this is my father's empire, if I walk out that door, I'm as good as dead!”

“I just, I hate seeing you hurt,” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears came tumbling down.  

“Well, get used to it sweetheart!” He roared, but before he could get another word in, (Y/N) peeled out of the room.

He knew that he pushed it too far, he always did. Hurting people was what James Buchanan Barnes did best, and he hated it, yet he felt helpless. How could he leave? He knew nothing of living in the normal world, all he knew was this life, and after twenty-six years of it, he couldn’t change, but he never wanted to hurt (Y/N). Hired on only a year ago as a private doctor after dropping out of medical school, he had quickly become attached to her, a sarcastic, though heartfelt relationship was built in between gun fights, dirty money, and illegal substances.  

(Y/N) came to them, young, desperate, and in need of cash, answering a wanted ad from the paper, requiring a medic for boxing matches. Bucky remembered her, walking into his father's office, dressed in formal clothing, hands grasping her resume in tight fists, eyes determined yet terrified. She was two semesters shy from graduating medical school, her grades high, and a strong recommendation from her teacher. Of course, it begged the question why she hadn’t stayed in school, to which her shoulders dropped, eyes finding the floor. (Y/N) indulged them, and his father hired her on the spot. Her sister was struggling with an addiction, and she needed the money to send her to a rehab center, postponing her dreams of becoming a doctor.  

(Y/N) wasn’t deterred when she learned of the true nature of the job, she insisted it was okay, that this would be a good experience for her, one she could draw on when she went back to medical school. At first, (Y/N) was so nervous, eyes darting away when any of them looked at her, but she soon found her confidence, even cracking jokes with the mobsters, catching Bucky’s attention. He started seeking her out, (Y/N)’s company a breath of fresh air, asking her what it was like growing up with a mom, a dad, in a house, playing with other kids, going to a regular school, all the things he never really knew, at least not in the same way she did. And she would ask him, about growing up in the mob, about living in the shadows, what it was like to kill, and he would indulge her with the details he could, a friendship budding in an unlikely place.  

“Fuck!” He pounded his fist into the wall.

“I raise.” A chip is pushed to the center.

“Same here.” Another chip.

“I fold.” Card are placed down.

“I call.”

“I fold.”

Eyes darted around the table, the room quickly filled with cigarette smoke, and the smell of rum, and whisky, though no one seemed to mind. They played with chips, though the value wasn’t cash. Money was of low importance when they had so damn much of it, it was other commodities that held value in these high stake tournaments. For Steve, it was full control over his wardrobe for a day, Clint’s suggestion. For Clint, Steve one-upped him by getting him to bet on a full on makeover. Sam bet on himself stripping down and running around the compound, and it turned out to be his best strategy yet, as no one particularly wanted him to lose. Natasha bet her favorite knife. And for Bucky, it was his trusty revolver.

“Everyone still in for the next round?” Clint questioned, collecting everyone’s cards back. A collection of nods and murmurs kept everyone seated at the table, all bets on. He was about to deal out the next set when the door creaked open, (Y/N) slipping inside wearing a silk pajama top and black leggings, as if she had been planning on going to bed in the near future. She strided over to the table, much to the confusion of all players. (Y/N) wasn’t one to gamble, but the look on her face exuded complete resolve and confidence in her actions.

“Oh, you need somethin’ doll?” Bucky asked, taking the last drag of his cigarette before putting it out.

“Deal me in?” (Y/N) raised a brow, taking the seat beside Clint who was reshuffling the cards.

“Playing with fire, baby,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “This lot won’t go easy just because you’re cute.”

“I’m so eager to watch you eat those words,” she cooed, pulling out a wad of twenties from her breast pocket.

“We don’t play with cash, (Y/N),” Clint held his hand up, refusing the money.

“Then what shall I bet?”

“Something of value to you,” Steve suggested. “It can be an item, or something that you would do.”

“O-oh, um.”

“Can always back out sweetheart,” Bucky jested, leaning on his elbows, taunting her.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, pulling Clint in to whisper in his ear. His eyebrows knitted together, but soon his mouth curled up and he was nodding.

“What’s the bet?” Sam questioned.

“A kiss,” (Y/N) stated.

“Do we all agree?” Clint raised a brow.

“No complaints here,” Sam sneered, eyeing Bucky. The rest simply nodded in agreeance.

Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, left hand clenching into a fist. The cards were handed out and a pile of chips were delegated to (Y/N) for her betting pleasure. Before he picked up his cards his eyes fluttered closed, relaxing the muscles in his jaw, resuming his infamous poker face. Bucky never lost, and it wasn’t because he was particularly good at poker, but because James Buchanan Barnes knew how, where, and when to lie. Whether it was holding a bluff in front of the enemy, keeping his father's nose out of late night affairs, or charming women into his bed, he could tell anyone what they wanted to hear and have them believe it.

Now he was nervous, not for his revolver, his baby, but for (Y/N). Bucky didn’t care about the kiss, no of course not, but he couldn’t just have any of these schmucks lay their filthy lips on her! Clint was a dirty bastard and would certainly attempt to continue that kind of action with her in private. Sam was an ass who knew of Bucky and (Y/N)’s fond relationship and would surely never let Bucky live it down if he won that kind of prize. Natasha was a damn good kisser and probably wouldn’t take advantage of his wide-eyed friend, but the thought of her kissing his ex-girlfriend put a sick feeling in his stomach. And Steve, his best friend, his right hand man, this was probably the best case scenario if somehow Bucky actually lost, but Steve had a girlfriend, and unlike Clint and Sam, he was a committed man, and Bucky knew that he’d feel guilty for it. The only option left was for Bucky to win. It was for (Y/N)’s sake.

Bucky picked up his cards and he had to physically fight himself against breaking out into a string of curses. Holding a two of clubs, and a nine of hearts, left little to work with as the three community cards placed in the middle were a four of hearts, a jack of diamonds, and a king of diamonds. Bucky eyed the rest of them up, but no one was showing anything, not yet. It was fine, he had dealt with much worse, and he needed to win this. It would be a round of bluffing.

“How’s your pa doing, Buck? Heard he’s been pretty sick,” Clint asked, breaking the silence. They always enjoyed easy conversation during late night matches, but with (Y/N) hanging around, they weren’t sure what to say. No one disliked her, quite the contrary, but she didn’t partake in the job in the same way they did. She dealt with the gorey aftermath, but she didn’t go into it, guns blazing, knives slicing through hardened flesh and muscle alike, fists pounding their way through drug deals gone bad, police raids, and set ups. They were on two different sides of the same coin.

“He’s seen better days,” Bucky answered, voice easy yet solemn. His father’s declining health wasn’t something he wanted to discuss though he used the cover of conversation to watch the game, and take the attention away from his shit hand.

“Your old man will pull through, he’s tough,” Steve assured, raising the bet.

“What about that job you butchered last week, Sam?” Bucky quipped, turning the heat onto the unsuspecting man.

“Butchered? Please, my intel was fresh, it was you guys that fucked it up,” Sam retorted, flicking a chip into the pile.

“Please elaborate,” Natasha challenged. Her voice was silky smooth, though her cocked eyebrow was anything but kind.

“Look, if little miss over here hadn’t been wound so tight, they wouldn’t have suspected a thing!” Sam explained, a hand gesturing at the redhead.

“You wanna make something of it, Icarus?” Natasha snapped.

“Come on guys, let’s keep it civil,” Steve appealed, his signature ‘Disappointed Dad’ look on full display. Natasha and Sam both sat back in their chairs, eyes boring into their cards.

“Um, what happened?” (Y/N) murmured to Clint.

“Another gang has been encroaching on our territory, engaging in business, attempting to steal our customers, and connections. We went in with Natasha as a distraction, while we cleaned out their stock, sending a message to get the fuck out.”

“It didn’t go well?” She asked, though from the previous conversation (Y/N) already knew the answer.

“One of the guys tried to have his way with her,” Clint grimaced. “Sure, they got handsy, that’s expected, but it was never supposed to get that far. Natasha punched him square in the jaw, and though she took the rest of them out, somebody must’ve sent a signal, because they swarmed us, gave us all a good beat down.”

“Was that the night Bucky was stabbed?” She gasped.

“Yeah.”

(Y/N) glanced over only to find Bucky watching the two of them intently, throwing back the last of his whisky. When it came to the actual business aspect of things, she had been left mostly in the dark, only given details when necessary, and though he had assured her it was nothing like the Hollywood movies, the jobs carried a serious amount of risk, ranging from bodily injury, being arrested, or even killed.

At first, when (Y/N) came to realize she would be working for people who dealt drugs, and that she would paying for her own sisters rehab with illegal money from the exploits, (Y/N) figured that she must be the biggest hypocrite in the world. She had accepted the job out of need, certainly not want, though as she opened up and built a relationship with the mob boss’s unorthodox son Bucky, (Y/N) learned that they were more like pirates than bloodthirsty criminals. His particular mob had a strict moral code, breaking that was grounds for punishment by death, so the rules were held to a high standard. One such rule was that although they bought and sold illicit drugs, they refused to buy and sell prostitutes, the members of their mob were even barred from buying prostitutes for personal use from other places. Perhaps it was cherry picking, perhaps it was a poor excuse to make up for the wrongs they had already done, but it was their way of carrying out business and slowly, (Y/N) had come to live with it.

Even more so was the understanding that the police, the people she saw opposite to criminals, were just as corrupt as her mob employers. In fact, they knew many officers by name who would take bribes, hush money for when something went down, turning a blind eye to their dealings. (Y/N) was floored to learn of how interconnected the forces were with them, and it added yet another, perplexing layer to her new reality. Even now, she still didn’t accept the mob, the lifestyle they lived, nor the business they engaged in, but she agreed that it wasn’t as black and white as she had originally perceived it to be.

Bucky, was the perfect example. On the surface, he’s a criminal, a mobster who can kill on command, sells illicit drugs which harm people and can destroy lives. Yet, he was born into this life, it’s all he knows. And Bucky is so much more than any of those labels. He’s smart, he’s witty, he acts charming and unfazed, but she knows that he takes anti-anxiety medication everyday to help keep his racing thoughts at bay. Bucky cares about those around him, he’s so deeply loyal to his family that he would do anything for them. Bucky makes her feel seen, heard, and cared for, something she hasn’t had the luxury of feeling in a very long time. (Y/N) has come to learn that Bucky is anything but a simple label.

“I fold,” Sam sighed, as the last community card was placed on the table, making it the final round.

“I fold,” Steve stated, placing his cards down.

Bucky looked to his own hand and still had absolutely nothing, though the attitude from the table gave him hope. No one was jumping at this, and the cards in the middle weren’t exactly winners themselves. He just had to act confident, pretend he had something, get the rest of ‘em to fold, and collect on the sweet peck from his pretty little doctor.

“Fold,” Natasha huffed.

“I Fold,” Clint droned.

Bucky eyed her, it was just the two of them now, and she had a mischievous look on her face. When the hell did she have time to learn poker in med school? He would have to ask her later. No matter, Bucky refused to lose his revolver to anyone, so it was time to amp up the charm, and get inside her head.

“Look doll, you did good, but we both know that the best bet for you would be folding right now.” Bucky gave her a smirk, his forehead wrinkling as he tipped his head towards her.

“I raise.” She returned his expression with full sass, plopping the chips onto the pile, earning a few interested hums from around the table.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he chuckled darkly, matching her raise.

“Alright, show your cards,” Clint said, leaning forward to distinguish the results.

“Shall I cash in my kiss now or later, darlin’?” He sang, eyeing her up and down. Everyone was silent as they scrutinized the cards, a soft chuckle beginning in Sam’s throat.

“You lost, Barnes.” Sam was howling now, clapping his hands, leaning his head back. The rest of the room erupted in snickers and quips, all aimed at the baffled brunette. Bucky never lost. Turns out she was bluffing too, but with two fours on the table and one in her hand, she managed the scrounge up three of a kind, which was still better than Bucky’s hand.

“Better luck next time, darlin’,” (Y/N) drawled, using the pet name against him.

His mouth hung wide open, as she strutted out of the room. She didn’t even bother to take her winnings, the cocky bitch.

In another week, he was back to see her, absolutely itching to get the stitches out of his skin, desperate to have the full use of his arm back. Bucky so easily got cabin fever while injured, if his fingers weren’t wrapped around a neck, or squeezing the trigger of a gun, then he just didn’t feel right. That was probably a concerning thing, but he had no interest in having some psychologist dive in there and pick around, he was more than happy to simply live his desires and deal with the consequences later. Perhaps, he would go to the gun range, make sure he hadn’t lost his touch, though he also knew of a few loud-mouthed mobsters who could use an ass kicking, so maybe hand to hand training would be his choice.  

“Looking lovely as always,” Bucky cooed, entering the makeshift medical room.  

“And you’re chipper this morning,” (Y/N) remarked, turning to see him stroll up, sitting on the table, already preening under her attention. “Someone nice keep your bed warm last night.”

“What kind of man do you take me for?” He gives her a knowing look.  

“A whore,” she states, tipping her nose up.

“I never!” He gasped, feigning offense at her statement.  

A smirk broke out on her lips, shaking her head lightly, but it soon faltered, looking back down at her hands. (Y/N) waited for him to remove the crimson colored Henley, eyes wandering back up to drink him in for just a second. All her life, she tried to be good, having aspirations of being a doctor so she could help people, dropping that dream when her sister needed her most, yet she must have done something very horrible either in this life or a past one to be tortured this way. Bucky was gorgeous, there was no denying that, layers of hardened muscle under smooth, olive skin, all stretched over a large, towering frame. He had a baby face, with sweet eyes that made her melt, a smile that caused her skin to tingle, and when he touched her, she would be willing to get down on both knees and pray for the electricity it sent through her body to stop.  

But it wasn’t just that, when he spoke to her, she felt that he actually wanted to know the answers. He watched her intently, picking up on small hints and cues, knowing when her smile was strained when she was stressed, recognizing the bounce in her step when she was happy, and it made (Y/N) feel like someone actually knew her. Bucky did know her, intimately, in every way except the ways she needed, and it killed her. It wasn’t fair, nothing about it was.  

“Hey,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “How’s your sister doing?” He saw the darkness clouding her eyes, and began to swing his legs, worried for what could be bothering her.  

“She’s good actually, I spoke with her last night on the phone.” (Y/N) gave a gentle smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  

“I’m glad, I'm really glad,” he returned her grin. “So then, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm alright.” She finished removing the last stitch and wiped the skin clean, standing back to admire her work.  

“Holding out on me? That’s new,” he sighed, raising his eyebrows, working his best pout, slouching his shoulders. She sucked her teeth, crossing her arms in front of her, rolling her eyes dramatically.  

“Buck.”

“Come on,” he droned, letting his head roll back. “Can’t let my best girl stay sad all day. Who’s chops do I gotta to bust up, huh?”

Look in the mirror, she thought.  

“Violence is no way to solve your problems,” she chided.

“Look, I know you’re a little workaholic, but you need to relax a bit, you know?” He suggested, giving her an exaggerated look. “The guys around here aren’t blind, i’m sure I could find you a willing candidate.”

“God, I don’t want to talk about it!” (Y/N) snapped at the innuendo, Bucky’s eyes widening in surprise.

“Alright, alright,” he exclaimed, standing up from the table. “Take it easy,” Bucky murmured, coming to stand in front of her.

(Y/N) kept her eyes trained on the floor so he wouldn’t see the hurt brewing inside, holding fast to her tough girl act.

“What if-,” he started, but almost losing his confidence halfway through. “What if we did something, to get your mind off whatever it’s stuck on?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, arms wound tightly around her midsection.

Bucky’s hand came to rest under her chin, lifting her jaw to meet her eyes. (Y/N) gave a good attempt at a smile, and to anyone else, she’d have them fooled, but not Bucky. Never Bucky. He hated seeing her so down in the dumps, but even more so as she was doing her best to keep it from him. (Y/N) didn’t keep secrets, not from Bucky. At first, he was almost certain it was about her sister, whenever she was upset it was because she was having difficulties at the rehabilitation center. More than once her sister had lashed out at her therapist, or broken house rules, and it had resulted in a stressful phone call for (Y/N). Yet it wasn’t that. Bucky was at a complete loss at what else could be bothering her, and he realized that their relationship consisted so much of her helping him, that he couldn’t recognize this look on her, it was so foreign.

Bucky instantly felt guilt, (Y/N) was always the healer, it was always about Bucky. Sure, he’d pick up her spirits every once in a while with a smooth line, and a quick smile, but right now, she was a stranger to him, and he didn’t like that. No, he hated it. Bucky needed to help her almost for his own damn sake, so he wasn’t leaving her alone without a fight.

“Come on, just the two of us,” he cooed, pushing some hair behind her ear.

“You mean it?” Her eyes flickered up to his.

“Just us, baby.”

“What will we do?”

“Wanna learn how to shoot a gun?” He cocked an eyebrow, delighted in how her face lit up as if she were a child who was told they would be getting a puppy.  

“Can I really, Buck?” She gasped.

“Anything for you, doll.”

“What’s the biggest one you have?” She stared the clerk down, hands planted on the counter top, her eyes dead set on his.

“Uhh,” the man looked her up and down, confusion painting his expression as he scratched the back his head, his eyes searched for who she might be with, even more so, wondering how the hell she got in here. He would have to talk to security about this.  

“Well, I mean, we have rifles, but you need special clearance to use anything semi-automatic and above.” He continued to eye her suspiciously. He had never seen her here before, and he knew everyone who came here.  

“Oh, don’t worry, I have that,” she stated, nonchalantly, pulling back to pick at a nail.  

“Really?” He gave her an incredulous look.

“Oh yes, I’m with Bucky Barnes.”

“O-oh!” He blundered, turning quickly to the rack behind him, opening the gate and pulling out a long gun to set on the counter. “This is the M16 rifle, it’s used in over 80 countries, probably the best one we have.”

“Oo la la,” her eyes went wide. She had been begging the boys to let her come shooting, and they always brushed her off, saying that they preferred her patching up their wounds rather than giving them more, so this was a long time coming for her, and she was going to enjoy herself. (Y/N)’s hand reached out to touch the smooth metal, when a voice called out, snapping her hand back to look up, innocently batting her eyes.  

“Doll, hey!” He marched up to her, leaning down to speak into her ear. “Doll, you can’t just walk off here, okay?”

“Sorry,” she shied away from his close proximity. “I just got excited.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled, before turning to the man behind the counter. “What are we looking at today Jim?”

“She likes ‘em big and loud apparently,” he snorted, nodding down to the rifle in front of him.  

“Oh, no no no, we’re starting small,” he chided. “That? Even I don’t use that.”

“Bucky, please?” She pleaded, holding onto his forearm, the leather of his jacket squeaking under her grip. He sighed, peering down into her eyes, cursing under his breath.  

“We start small. If you’re good, I'll let you try this one, with my help. Understood?”  

“Yes, sir,” she giggled, giving him a phony salute, walking off to go claim a lane.  

“Ugh,” he groaned as his head fell back. “.9 mm handgun to start, and enough ammo to satiate her.”

“She’s trouble,” he let a hearty laugh out, turning to fill his request. “She’s cute though. Never seen you bring a girl in here before.”

“She’s been beggin’ me for a while, figured I'd indulge her,” he gave a lazy smile, taking the weapon and cartridges that were placed on the counter.  

“Well, maybe it’ll be good for you, settle down with someone.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” he quickly objected.  

“Sorry, my mistake.”

Bucky found her down towards the end, even though the place was mostly empty. It was his father’s private gun range, filled to the brim with all sorts of firearms from around the world, he practically grew up here, shooting a gun for the first time when he was nine years old. Bucky learned to love it, got real good too, and though he had no problem putting a bullet straight between someone’s eyes, it made his stomach churn to bring (Y/N) here, to put a weapon in her hands.  

“Put these on.” He gave her a set of earmuffs, sporting a pair himself, and some eye glasses.  

“Alright, if we’re gonna do this, you have to do everything I say, got it?” She nodded quickly.  

“If you don’t, we leave immediately. This shit’s serious, (Y/N).” She nodded again, anticipation in her eyes.

“One foot forward, slight bend in your knees, arms straight but not locked.” Bucky maneuvered her body to the proper position, and hesitantly placed the gun in her hands, standing behind her, his own fingers curling around hers.  

“You only put your finger on the trigger when you want to fire, none of this Hollywood bullshit.”

“Okay, Bucky.” She shuddered as he molded himself to her form. She was going to regret this.  

“Close one eye, look through these two ridges on the gun to line up your shot, breath out, and fire.”

Her body started to shiver as she realized that she was actually about to shoot a weapon, that paired with the sobering touch of Bucky Barnes, was enough to send her into cardiac arrest. She felt the heat coming off of him, and if she leaned in a little more, she was sure that she would feel the hard muscles of his chest, and that was just not something one should be thinking about when in charge of a loaded gun. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut and re-opened them, trying to get her bearings back, focused on the target down the lane. She followed his instructions, trying to remember what he said, her finger moved to the trigger, but as she fired the gun, her muscles tensed up, she blinked, and was pushed back into him, earning a quiet grunt from the man as he held her steady.  

“Not bad, but don’t fight that recoil doll, just let it happen. Your body will absorb it,” he explained.  

“Sorry, it just scared me,” she let out a nervous laugh.

“No need to be afraid, I've got you,” Bucky mumbled into her ear.  

“O-okay.”

After a few more rounds, she built her confidence up, her body relaxed, and her shots became better, eventually standing by, letting her fire it by herself. When she got a perfect bulls-eye, (Y/N) turned to give him a wide grin and he couldn’t help but return it, her excited giggle carried across the range. Bucky was a busy man, so spending such intimate time together was a rarity, and he wanted to soak this up while it lasted. (Y/N) was his favorite company, she told it like it was, and she didn’t back down from him. He loved her bullheaded self, even if sometimes it pissed him off.  

“Oh my god, how do you hold this thing, it’s so heavy!” She whined.

“You asked for it,” he snorted, crossing his arms. Oh, he was going to enjoy this. After another moment of struggle, he came to her aid, slipped his arms around her, and pulled the rifle to its proper position.  

“Alright, it’s not on automatic right now, so just like we practiced.”

She exhaled, her eye closed, the shot lined up, and arms shaking from the unfamiliar weight. Bucky prepared himself as the recoil would be much higher on this one, ready to take the brunt of it. With a few more deep breaths, she pressed the trigger, a loud bang reverberating off of the walls, and suddenly, everything changed.

(Y/N) saw red, crimson dripping down the paper sheet, the holes pooling with blood. She heard Bucky’s cries of agony, the low moan that got caught in his throat, deep coughs reverberating through his whole chest, the way he sucked in air, causing her to fear a punctured lung. She felt the vibration of the bullet firing through the barrel, on a path of destruction and death, one of her very own doing. She was in the halls of the hospital, the stench of sickness, the screams and shouts of pain piercing through her entire being. How could she?

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s-.”

The rifle clattered to the floor, the few other patrons looked at them with concern, her feet tripped over each other as she backed away from the lane, eyes wide and blank. She let out a shaky breath, hands beginning to tremble, the weight of everything bearing down on her.

“Doll, come back to me,” Bucky whispered, rushing over to her retreating form, holding her hands in his, finding her gaze.

“Shit, you’re freezing,” he gasped, rubbing his hands over hers. Bucky took in her appearance, the way she seemed to stare off at something unseen, her unresponsive expression, her empty eyes.

“Come on, we’re gonna go.”

Bucky put an arm around her shoulders, directed her towards the exit, and nodded at Jim before they left. He would take care of the mess they left behind. (Y/N)’s silence scared him, she was always a chatterbox, a livewire, so this sent warning signals all throughout his body. The wait for the car to come around was torturous, as all Bucky wanted was to get her home. (Y/N) was always taking care of them, taking care of him, but now that she was the one in the need, God he didn’t have a fucking clue. Once the sleek, black, Mercedez pulled up, Bucky nearly threw her in the backseat, yelling at the driver to take them home.

“Look at me,” Bucky spoke in an even tone, taking her hands in his again. (Y/N) met his eyes, the emotion coming through the shock, tears welling up, as she neared her breaking point.

“I-I-I,” she stuttered, her whole body shaking now.

“Calm down, i’m right here doll.” Bucky pulled her close, hands running up and down her back, attempting to create soothing patterns as she fell apart in front of him. (Y/N) was sobbing now, and she still didn’t know why. Sure, it was scary, but wasn’t this an overreaction? She shot a piece of paper, not a person, (Y/N) was no murderer.

“Guns, they-they kill people, Buck,” (Y/N) whispered. The only reason he could even hear her is because her head was tucked so neatly into his neck.

“Yeah, they do.”

“And I, I liked it.”

Bucky breathed out, pulling his right hand up to comb through her hair. He needed to get this under control before she really spiraled, but what could he do? Bucky wasn’t good with women, not in this way. He could sweet talk them, tell them how nice they looked, imply to heaven and back all the nasty things he’d like to do to them, and yet, when the waterworks started, the cat got his tongue. Whatever his dumb, boy brain thought to say, it always made the situation worse.

“How can I call myself a doctor? A healer?” (Y/N) pulled back from him, pushing her body against the door of the car.

“(Y/N), that doesn’t mean anything.” Bucky put his hands up in surrender.

“How do you do it?” (Y/N) stared at him, completely frozen.

“Do what?”

“How do you kill?” She breathed.

It was the words unsaid that she was truly asking, how did he kill and be okay with it? Why didn’t he come home crying when his gun was empty? She wanted, needed to know why she was an anomaly at the gun range, why she was crying and everyone else was fine. Bucky knew the answer, and he hated it, that it had always been the difference between them. She was still so innocent, while he had been born guilty, and nothing would change that.

They sat at the kitchen table, a bottle of wine between them, and a sacred moment of privacy. Bucky’s shoulder had healed over, a thin scar lining what used to be a gaping wound, another to add to his growing collection. (Y/N) ran her finger along the edge of the glass, a dumb smile on her face as she watched Bucky, blissfully teetering on the edge of being drunk, her heart full, though it had no reason to be. He was telling some story of a drug deal gone bad from a few years ago, and she was hanging onto every word. Bucky could read her a damn Cosmo magazine and she’d be sitting on the edge of her seat, acting as though his word was the next gospel. It was embarrassing, really, but she was too inebriated to know or to care, and Bucky was eating it up of course, the pig.  

Bucky loved when he could captivate her like this, basking in the glow of her pretty smile, (Y/E/C) eyes giving him slow blinks. Bucky felt so warm under her gaze, he’d say just about anything she wanted to hear if it meant he could keep her in this state. (Y/N) rested her forearms on the table, but they were barely holding her up anymore, head beginning to tilt down, eyes fluttering shut.

“You gonna fall asleep on me, sugar?” He chuckled, his hand coming under her chin, pulling her jaw up.  

“No way,” she sighed, settled on staring at him again, slowly sipping her wine, sending him happy little giggles.

“I’ve been hogging up all the airtime, tell me something I don’t know about you,” Bucky purred.

“Me?” (Y/N) gives an exaggerated expression, as if she’s never been asked about herself before. “Hm, that’s tough Buck, I feel like you know everything,” she sighed.

“Come on, must be somethin’,” he urged.

“Did I ever tell you the story of my first kiss?”

“Go on,” he cocked an eyebrow, full invested already.

“Well, buckle up,” she giggled. “Alright, so when I was a little girl, I was something of a man eater, if you can believe it,” (Y/N) claimed, leaning forward on her forearms again, Bucky absentmindedly mirroring her actions.

“I’m shocked, baby doll,” he smirked, already liking where this was going.

“So, in perfect, man eater fashion, when I found myself crushing on a boy in my class, I decided that I just had to have him,” she wiggled her brows for emphasis. “After school ended one day, I decided to make my move.”

Bucky leaned impossibly closer, slate blue eyes trained on her, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Behind my school, there was this ravine, and so, I told him to come down there with me. Once we got to the bottom, I pulled him in, and kissed him square on the lips!”

“And what did he have to say about that?” Bucky asked.

“He was in shock! Didn’t say a word,” (Y/N) stated, keeling over in laughter.

“How old were you?”

“I was five, maybe six.”

“What ever happened to her?” Bucky mused, picturing a young (Y/N), marching to the beat of her own drum, kissing boys without a care, certainly a different picture to the now reserved, hardworking woman he knew. Sure, she had her moments, but that’s all they were, glimmers of the girl she was, the one she had hidden away when things got tough and she had to grow up. Bucky realized that he probably had one of those too, deep down.

“What are you thinkin’ about, beautiful?” Bucky asked when he realized that she’d gone silent.

“I can’t tell you.” A curious look came to her face, which had Bucky tilting his head like a puppy.  

“Why not?”

“It’s a secret.”

“You always tell me your secrets.”

“You’ll get mad.”

“No, I won’t.” He licked his lips, starting to get desperate. “Please baby doll?”

“Fine,” she huffed. “You’re lucky that you’re so damn pretty.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair at her compliment, falling out of its slicked back position from the long day. She took in a breath, closing her eyes, attempting to sober herself up enough to reveal her big secret to him. (Y/N) wasn’t quite sure how he’d take it honestly, and it had been weighing on her for a while now. So far, she had just been avoiding the topic entirely, though she knew that eventually she would have to breach the subject matter with him. Now was as good a time as ever, perhaps the alcohol would assist him in taking the news well.  

“I’m thinking of finishing med school.”

“Pfft, yeah okay,” he chuckled. “And I'm gonna walk on the moon.”

“Buck, I'm serious,” she whimpered, her eyebrows knitting together. Out of all the possible responses, she hadn’t quite expected this from him.  

“You won’t leave,” he smirked.  

“Oh, and why not?” She challenged.

“Simple, you need me.”

“Excuse me?” He shrugged his shoulders in response, eyes trained on the wine glass in his hand as he took a sip.  

“Who’s the one who patches you up every time a fight goes bad, huh? Who’s the one who has nursed you back from serious infection after getting caught on a rusted fence? Who was right by your side when you blacked out from a concussion, and never left, feeding you, giving you fucking sponge baths?” She was hysterical now, lips trembling, standing up from her chair as she tried to sound strong, intimating even.

“That’s your job, sweetheart,” he sneered.  

“Fuck you!” She screamed. (Y/N) couldn’t bear to hear another word, storming away to go sleep off her impending hangover.  

Part of her wanted Bucky to yell, to cry, to beg her to stay, to know that he wanted her around, that he cared. But the smarter part of her, tells her that this is exactly what she knew all along, the snarky bitch. Still, even if you know something is coming, even if you know it is true, it can still rip you apart. Bucky had heartlessly called her bluff, though maybe it’s what she needed. A nail in the coffin so she could let go, move on with her life.

Bucky staggered into the room, his footsteps heavy, breathing labored, slumping down onto the table without a single witty remark. (Y/N) turned to look at him, the hurt flashing across her face before she subdued it as always and got to work. Slipping plastic gloves over her fingers, she took his face in her hands, turning it over to see the damage better under the overhead light. The bruising was horrid, and with a ginger touch to the bridge, she could tell his nose was broken. A sly comment about his beauty being his only asset crossed her mind, but she quickly put the thought to bed. She couldn’t do the banter anymore, it overshadowed how she felt about all of it, how much it hurt her to see him like this.

Bucky leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as he exhaled, but all too soon she was gone, picking out various supplies to fix him. (Y/N) was silent, wiping the dried blood from his face, not a single word of praise as he gritted his teeth through resetting his nose, and she never met his gaze again. It terrified him. By now, she wouldn’t be able to help herself, the panic rising in her voice, the way her fingers would tremble over his wounds, but this woman was calm and collected. Sure, he wasn’t stabbed this time, but he saw himself in the rearview mirror on the way back, he knew it didn’t look pretty. (Y/N) seemed at peace, but she had no reason to be, at least, not one that he knew about.  

His thoughts floated back to all of their previous arguments, and the question burned in his throat. He could never leave this life, but she could. After all this time, with how much it hurt her, why did she stay, why was she still here? He had to know.  

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, his voice low and raw. “Why stay?”

Her head tilted forward as she let out a sigh, hands shifting down to hold onto his shoulders, bearing her weight on him as if she suddenly felt faint. Bucky brought his hands to her waist, peering up at her, desperate for an answer, though he wasn’t sure he was ready to receive it. After another moment, she looked back at him, eyes rimmed in red, bottom lip trembling.  

“Because I love you, James.”

He sighed, head dropping forward, resting his head on her stomach, arms circling her midsection. She can’t love him, she shouldn’t love him, yet he buries his face deeper, breathing her in. She has scrubbed the blood of dead men from him skin, she has sealed bullet holes, she has healed skin, bone, and muscle alike, and what has he done for her? Not a damn thing.  

“I can’t be normal for you,” he mutters.

“I know, James.”

“Then what will you do?”  

“I’m going back to med school,” she stated. “I already have the loan from the bank, my position in the class is secured, it’s done.”

James thinks that she must have stabbed him. He rushes to stand before her, taking her face in his hands, heart racing, the sound is deafening in his ears as he searches her face for a smile, the joke, the punchline.  

“No, don’t leave me!”  

“James, I can’t-”

“I know, but I can’t do this without you!”  

Bucky is in full blown panic, desperate to tell her whatever she needs to hear, anything to keep her by his side. Bucky realizes now, he had taken her presence for granted, learned to expect her here, but the look on her face tells him that this is very real. (Y/N)’s leaving, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Bucky shuddered at the thought, his whole world shifting before him, and he’s stuck gasping for air, fighting to keep his sanity, yet he keeps coming up empty.  

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he sobs. He’s been shot for before for Christ’s sake, and hasn’t shed a tear, but right now, he can’t help himself.  

“What?” (Y/N) whispers, confusion flooding her face. She doesn’t get it, she doesn’t understand, he sees that now, and he wishes that she would stab him for how horrible he’s been. (Y/N) thinks it’s a one-way street, and it’s all his fault.  

“I’m sorry that I let you think you don’t matter,” he breathes.  

She can’t look him in the eyes, breaking his heart further. He really let this happen, stood idly by as she withered away, truly believing she was a placeholder, just a cog in the machine. He loaded that gun, he watched her stand on the edge, and he did nothing when she pulled the trigger. Even worse, he cheered her on, double dared her, told her she wouldn’t do it. Bucky wants her here, needs her to know how much he cares, but he’s already been so selfish. His head and his heart have waged war inside of him, and he doesn’t know what to do. He should let her go so she can continue on with her life, get out of this while she still can. Bucky doesn’t deserve her, not with the blood on his hands, yet it doesn’t make him want her any less. No, he wants her more, now he needs to make up for what he’s done.  

“I have to go,” (Y/N) sniffles, so intent on keeping herself from him now, a death grip on those flood gates.  

She takes his hands off of her, backing away, before turning to exit the room, leaving James all alone.

A year came and went. A year of last-minute study sessions, a year of laughter and tears, of shifts that seemed to go on forever, a steady stream of sneezing, coughing, wheezing, oozing, and bleeding patients. She had reached for the sun and came out on the other side, scorched but alive. (Y/N) resorted to fanning herself with her hand, it was mid-May and already the temperature was climbing high. Sitting back in the chair, her eyes scanned the crowd, squinting hard as she went through the endless faces, but came up empty. God, she wished they’d just get on with it. With a final round of applause, the ceremony came to an end, (Y/N) dashing off to find her sister. She was at their designated rendezvous spot, sitting on the edge of the fountain, sporting a wide grin as she stood to greet her.  

“Dr. (Y/L/N), look at you!” She squealed, pulling her into a tight hug.  

“Thank you for being here,” (Y/N) sighed, her sister pulling back to look into her eyes.

“Of course, I'm here, you dummy,” She chided, picking up her purse to retrieve her phone. “Sit on the edge of the fountain, and hold up that degree!”

She began the unavoidable photo session, smiling wide for the camera, the edge of her maroon robe being rustled by the breeze. She held her grin through sore cheeks as her sister flitted back and forth, apparently trying to find the perfect lighting, the woman was insatiable. (Y/N) wanted to buy her a puppy just so she’d have something to photograph all damn day, perhaps letting her escape from the limelight. In all honesty though, she couldn’t complain. It had been a long journey, getting her sister to recognize her problem, then getting her to agree to rehab, getting through rehab, then acclimating to life again. It had been anything but easy, it still wasn’t easy, but she had her sister back, and now she was on the cusp of beginning her career as an official doctor. It felt good, it felt right.

“Alright, so I have the dinner reservation all set up for tonight,” she began, diving into the night she had planned. “Eddie is coming, and Selena was able to find a sitter so she’ll be there too! Brad sends his regards, but his mum is still sick so he wasn’t able to make the trip...”

(Y/N) couldn’t hear her sister’s voice anymore, it felt like she was underwater, insulated from the world as he came into view. He had no right to be here, no business coming out of the woodworks on her big day, and it was certainly rude to do it all while looking that damn good.

Bucky had matured, she could see it on him, it was in his face, in his eyes. Dark hair slicked back, freshly shaved face, a gentle smile on rosy lips, and those steel blue eyes, squinting in happiness, boring into her soul. He wore a navy suit, perfectly tailored to his form, hands in his pockets as he took tentative steps towards her. She couldn’t do this, not today, not ever. She had spent all this time working hard to forget him, to make something of herself, her life, and his presence was threatening that. (Y/N) wouldn’t let him break her again.  

“Would you give me a minute alone?” She asked, rising to her feet, putting her freshly earned degree into her sisters' hands.  

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she looked between the two, sensing the tension and deciding to leave them alone. (Y/N) gathered all of her courage before James’s gaze chased it away and stalked up to the man, pointing a finger right at his chest.  

“You have some nerve coming here,” she snapped, her anger met with quiet adoration as he gazed down at her.  

“Dr. (Y/L/N),” he sighed. “It suits you.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” She warned, her hands pulling into fists at her sides.  

“To see you graduate,” he smiled, his hands coming out from behind him, a bouquet of fresh red roses.  

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she gaped at him. “What, a handsome face, some nice words, flowers, and then everything goes back to the way it was?”

“I’ve come here seeking nothing, (Y/N),” Bucky stated calmly, cradling the roses in his arms.  

“Then why? Why are you here?” She demanded, the anger morphing to desperation in her eyes. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he exhaled, shifting on his feet. When he looked back at her, his tongue darted out to lick his lips, his heart trying to claw its way out of his chest.  

“Because I love you.”

She scoffed.  

“I can’t do this with you, not again,” she looked to the side, crossing her arms. (Y/N) was trying to stay strong, though she always felt as that he could see right through her, naked under his gaze, it was infuriating. His calm demeanor only made it worse. She wanted to gain the upper hand, get him angry, because when Bucky was angry, he became stupid, but he just wouldn’t give it to her.  

“I’m not asking you to.” His voice is quiet, Bucky’s eyes pleading with her to understand. He hasn’t come her to start war, but to make peace. Her apprehension, her suspicion cut right through him, but he understood her reasoning. It was his fault, he was only reaping what he sowed.  

(Y/N) watched him for a moment, scrutinizing him, sizing him up as if she was about to jump him. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised, she was a fiery one, but he let her have it. She deserved all the time in the world to be angry with him, even though it was killing him. She furrowed her brow, something coming across her mind, then her eyes went wide, realization washing over her.  

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re the one, aren’t you?”

“What?” He asked hastily, worried for what he was being accused of.  

“You paid off my loan, didn’t you?” She asked, her voice louder this time as the pieces came together.  

“Ah,” he gave a nervous laugh. “Guilty.”

“James,” she breathed. “T-that was, the whole thing, it was over two hundred – oh my God.”

“(Y/N), you deserve every penny,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her calm.

Her hands covered her mouth, eyes darting around as she took in the shocking revelation. Her breath hitched, her arms started to shake, how could he? Why did he?

“I don’t deserve to ask anything of you, so I haven’t come here to do that,” he spoke softly, low voice rumbling in his chest.  

“But I am selfish, I wanted to see you,” the corners of his mouth pulling up, as the hand from her shoulder travels to ghost along her cheek.  

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that before,” he looks down, regret written all over him.  

“I’m so proud of you, (Y/N),” he puts a new smile on, though she sees him cracking underneath as he takes her hand to his lips. “I truly am.”

Bucky places the bouquet in her hands, one last look and turns to leave. He doesn’t want to, he never did, but it’s not his right to stay, to intrude on her life any more than he already has. Bucky hates that he has to do this, to let her go, but he hates himself more for hurting her in the first place. He lets out a shaky breath, one he feels as though he’s been holding in since he first caught her eyes, watching as her face morphed into one of anger and disgust. He deserved that, he really did, but it still hurt. She had never looked at him that way before.  

“James!” He shudders at the sound his name from her lips, turning to look over his shoulder. She’s running to him, and he feels as though the wind has been knocked clean out of his lungs.  

“Doll?” He lets the pet name slip through his teeth.  

“Um, my sister and I are going out for dinner with some friends, to celebrate.” She looks nervous, as if she’s a school girl asking someone to prom. The woman who just graduated medical school can’t even look him in the eyes and he feels his heart ache, full with love.  

“You’ll join us, won’t you?” When she finally meets his gaze with that hopeful look, how could Bucky ever say no?

“Anything for you, doll.”

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #Winter Soldier #Avengers #reader insert #modern au #mafia #mob #elles1kwritingchallenge

[dayaray]

WHO: Daya Ray and her siblings (Jakob, Hanna, and Freddie)

WHERE: The Ray apartment in Bayview

WHEN: July 4, 2019; 10:30am

WHAT: Kids just say the darndest things.

WARNINGS: Just pain. So much pain.

Holidays were always a little contentious in the Ray household. As the twins grew older, they began asking more questions about very normal things. Like where their parents were, and what Daya did for a job. She did her best to protect them, refusing to let the world touch them in this way, not if she could help it.

One of the ways she did this was that she had a rule of never being in public with her siblings. Jakob dropped them off and picked them up from school, took them to the park, went to the store with them. All very normal family things. When they were younger, it was easy to pass them off and say that she had to go to work ( never telling them what she did, of course ) or that she needed to sleep. Eventually, they were able to discern a pattern, and while she had tried to explain to them why it was so important to keep this a secret, she didn’t think they understood.

Freddie trusted her implicitly, never once making a fuss other than looking at her with sad brown eyes as he waved goodbye. But Hanna, Hanna was a firecracker in her own right. Fussy, bossy, A true Dominant. She pressed and pushed, always needing an answer that was satisfactory to her, and asked questions whose answers Daya didn’t know how to give.

The Fourth of July was generally a jolly affair. Jakob would take them down to Manor Park to enjoy the festival and the fireworks, and Daya would follow later, watching from afar but never interacting. Sharing it with them in a way that wasn’t exactly fulfilling, but necessary. Only this year, Hanna seemed to decide that it wasn’t enough for her. She demanded that Daya actually join them this year. 

“Are you a part of this family or not?” It was odd to hear her own words thrown back at her, though she usually used the phrase when one of them was sulking and refusing to eat dinner at the table. To hear it come from her baby’s sister bell-like voice, was jarring. 

“Hanna...” Jakob’s voice rumbled lowly, his tone a clear warning but Daya waved him away.

Kneeling down in front of her sister, she wiped at the petulant tears that were running down her cheeks. “I am. You know I am. I wish I could walk around sweetheart, but I can’t. You know that.” She brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes, even as Hanna looked away with a pout. “I promise I’ll be there, and we can talk about it tonight over dinner before I go to work.”

A small hand slapped hers away and Daya swore she’d never forget what happened next. “You don’t care about us. You never want to spend any time with us, and you’d rather go and open your legs for whoever walks by. No wonder you’re a switch. I hate you!” Daya’s entire body froze and she felt like she’d been punched in the chest. She vaguely heard Jakob chastise her, his deep voice authoritative and sharp. There was the sound of running feet and a slamming door, and silence. Her eyes stared at the spot where Hanna had been standing, unseeing as she tried to process what all had just happened.

Daya had never had an experience like this before with Hanna. While she could be bossy and domineering, Hanna was gentle and kind, and those words were too different for her to have come up with them all on her own. Slow footfalls approached, and a small hand wiped the tears that she hadn’t realized were on her face. “That’s what Mrs. Donahue sold Charlie’s mom the other day before Jakob came to pick us up. I don’t think we were supposed to hear but we did.” His little voice was solemn as he continued comforting his older sister, a complete role reversal from what she should have been doing for him. Daya wasn’t surprised. Plenty of people had opinions on who she was and what they did, but until now, she believed that her family understood why things were that way. Clearly she was wrong. “I’m sorry she made you cry. That was mean.”

Bless this poor boy’s sweet heart. She prayed that he would find someone who would nurture that soft soul, and cultivate the light he still had. With a watery smile, she drew him into a tight hug, and they stayed in that position for a long moment. “It’s okay, honey. I understand why she’s upset. I would be too. You understand that none of that is true, right? I care about you so much, and I wish I could spend all day every day with you.” His eyes were thoughtful as he searched for an answer. It amazed her every day that he could be so wise and yet he was only nine years old.

“I know you care about us. I don’t really get why we can’t go out to dinner sometimes, but it’s okay. We can always eat here too.” It broke her heart a little to hear those words come from him as well behind a gaptoothed smile, and maybe Daya hadn’t done such a good job of showing them just how important they were to her life. It made her feel selfish, seeking out comfort in the arms of Aidan and Lex, having them buy her food, when she had her family at home. With a sniffle, she vowed to do better and pulled away, sending him down the hall to get ready to leave. Venturing towards the closed door, Daya hesitated just outside, unsure if she could handle another gut punch right now. 

But the door opened, a tearstained face poked out and a blur launched into her arms. Daya stumbled but found her footing, making sure they didn’t tumble down to the ground. A blubber of apologies flooded out and she just quietly stroked Hanna’s hair until she calmed down. “Thank you for apologizing, sweetheart. I’m sorry that I didn’t know you were feeling that way. Next time, I want you to come talk to me, okay? Instead of screaming and throwing tantrums, we’ll talk about it. How’s that sound?” A small nod, another tearful hug, and Daya kissed her forehead. “Now, no more tears. It’s a holiday! Go put some sunscreen on and you all can head out. And make sure Freddie gets the back of his neck!” she called after her as Hanna sped away. 

Jakob was leaning against the wall, a somber look on his face. “Don’t give me that look, Jakob. You know why it has to be this way,” she sighed, exhausted from the whiplash of the last twenty minutes. Daya knew also that her sister’s words would not leave her mind any time soon. “Freddie told me that Dear Mrs. Donahue said something and they overheard.” Turning to finish packing, she began to load sack lunches, extra sunscreen, some blankets, and an extra hat into a large linen tote. She handed the bag off to him and laughed at his grimace. “It’s fine. That old hag is just jealous that I’ve gotten better sex than she’ll ever see in her life, and I get paid better for it.” The smile was almost too easy to fake and she didn’t think her brother believed her either. But even though he towered over her in height, he was still her little brother, and had so much potential in him. He needed to focus on his future.

Only the sound of muffled giggles warned them before two figures came sailing through the air. Freddie had jumped lightly onto Daya’s back with the agility of a rabbit, tucking his face into her her neck and peeking out shyly. Hanna, on the other hand, nearly knocked Jakob over, though he nearly dropped the bag. “Okay you devils, ready to head out?” 

The three of them lined up at the door and Daya inspected each one, a ritual they’d done any time they left the house. She wiped a smudge of dirt from Freddie’s cheek and ruffled his hair with a smile and and gave him a kiss on the head. Next was Hanna, whose eyes were still a little red and puffy, but she had stuck an American flag sticker to her cheek. Another nod, another kiss on the head, and she was onto Jakob. These days, she rarely had to take care of him too much and he’d been a tremendous help in recent years. But still she remembered the scared eight year old boy who had stared at her when she told him their parents weren’t coming home. She straightened his collar a little bit and fussed with his hair, just to be a jerk. But he still leaned down, and she lifted herself on her toes to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Okay, off you go you hooligans!” she laughed, shooing them out the door. They weren’t quiet as they tromped down the stairs of the old building they lived in, but eventually their voices drifted away and silence settled in once more. Smile slowly fading, Daya was left with her thoughts, and that was never a good sign. Shaking her head, she pushed away the thoughts and set about getting ready to leave as well. She wore her typical fare of canvas sneakers, tattered and patched denim shorts, and an old tank top that was softer than anything else she owned. She kept moving because if she didn’t, she would have to face the fact that she might actually be the worst sister ever.

#thread: self #thanks brain #we really needed this

[anodyne-sunflower]

100 Years-Stephen WraysfordxReader

A/N: Inspired by 100 years. Went a bit of a different route on this one. It was the first idea that came to mind for this song, so yay. Also, this came out to be a one shot lol My bad.

MOOD MUSIC: 100 Years by FatM

***

Fingers grabbed your dress punishingly, causing an ache that seemed to vibrate into your whole body. It was sorrow enough to feel weak, but to be the only one around fighting to survive...that was a harsher sentence dealt by the gods. “No!” You screamed, kicking your legs and tightening your grip on the soldier’s arm as he dragged you violently into the nearby home. The bombs had done their jobs, and stray soldiers littered throughout the village in search of anything useful. Unfortunately, survivors were deemed just that.

“Stop struggling!” He yelled back, his thick accent hard to understand as either German or Russian. It was never easy to tell now days, you merely ran from anyone in uniform. He threw you down to the ground and searched your body for any hidden weapons. You were likely no cause for concern to most, but it was a fool’s action to pretend you weren’t a possible threat. Yet, you still fought him, scratching at his face and slapping at his chest as he tore the necklace from around your throat. He observed its value with his eye, a smile on his lips as he leaned down to address you. Only those words never came. In a flash of light he was upon you, blood splattered across your face and dress as he gurgled some end to his life and laid heavy atop you. For a moment, you laid there shaking, breath trembling with fear and relief alike. Somewhere deep in your mind you knew it was a bullet that took his life, but your current state didn’t allow that logic to come through.

“Check the other rooms. Make sure every bloody corner of this home is secure.”

“Yes, Lieutenant!”

With a quivering hand you dared to touch the fallen man’s chest, holding your breath tightly as you heaved with all your might. He fell unceremoniously to your side, the thud of his body making you want to hide away in some deep corner of the world. There was no humanity in this, and yet you did it all the same. All in the name of survival.

“For god’s sake, Firebrace. Help her up!” The soldier yelled, motioning for another behind him to relieve you of the duty to yourself. You watched them both carefully, noting the casual way the one in the cap belted his weapon. He was a tall, ominous presence. Yet, through some unknowing force, you felt some sliver of comfort by his side. It was only when he glanced down at you, with those green uncaring eyes, that you felt some fear take you. “Be quick about it.”

He ordered, not revealing any discomfort at the blood that drenched your body now. The only emotion you happened to see in his eyes, was surprise. Perhaps at his own distaste of his actions, or simply at the fact he found any survivor here. But, that expression was fleeting, and you still took it upon yourself to watch him carefully as he reached the corner of the room. His eyes settled on the table there, sometimes glancing out the window cautiously. Although, it was plainly obvious by now, these English men had taken this village for their own. It seemed the one attacking you, was a stray of the Central Powers army, after all.

“Here, miss.” The other soldier, Firebrace, extended his hand towards you. Remnants of a smile on his lips as he awaited your cooperation. There was gentleness in his gaze, but you cared not for it. In your mind, allied or central, those in uniform meant certain death. With little manners, you moved from him, scrambling to the edge of the room and spitting upon the floor he walked on. Damn his kind gaze, and damn his uniform. Those symbols were just patches on a dress tunic. Nothing more.

“Are you hungry, miss?” Firebrace knelt down by you, worn smile still there as he attempted to still your anxious nature. But, you paid him little mind. Opting to ignore his offer of food in spite of your growling stomach.

“Leave her, then.” The one in charge spoke up, sifting though papers on the table as he nodded for Firebrace to join him. “Gather the others. Have them bring in our supplies. This place will do for a command center, for now.”

“As you wish, Lieutenant Wraysford.” Firebrace followed, rushing some other soldiers out the room as he went to retrieve their belongings.

So that was his name, you gathered. It somehow suited him, as if the syllables themselves carried the weight of his duty.

“Is this your home?”

The question caught you off guard, his sudden interest in your life now making you apprehensive. You supposed it would’ve done you better to respond. After all, you weren’t acquainted with this lot, and he could do as he willed with you if he wanted. However, he merely sighed at your lack of response, his boots stomping along the ground as he came to you.

With a heavy sigh, he kneeled down before you, causing you to retreat stiffly into the wall. He rested one arm on his thigh, licking his lips as he offered another question. “Do you speak english?”

It was the first question you felt any comfort in answering. “Yes.”

“You have an accent. Where are you from?” There was distrust in his voice, and you supposed you couldn’t fault him that. These days, trust was in short supply and female spies were hardly an unimaginable concept.

“You can sit there all night if you please. Just know,” he rose back up. “If you’re any threat to my men or me...I will kill you.” There was hesitation in his eyes, yet all the same you knew he meant it. He would carry the burden of life lost at his hands, if it meant keeping those around him alive.

“Italy.” You finally answered, watching as he turned back to look at you. He simply nodded then, and continued on paying you no mind. It was in this palpable silence that you decided to observe them all. Noting the numerous soldiers drifting in and out of the building with boxes and crates. Some were holding supplies, others maps and pages of what you could only guess were plans of a sort. It was as if you didn’t exist to any of them. The greater threat of their enemy was gone, and you were, if at all, of very little consequence.

“Do you have family?” Again, he broke the silence, his gaze still on the papers at his table as he sparked the conversation. It was strange to you, that he’d even care to ask such a thing. Maybe he was lonely, you contemplated, or maybe he was digging for information through the veil of kind inquiries.

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He appeared genuinely struck by that comment, but aside from those expressive eyes of his, there was little else to read from his face. “And your name?” He pressed on, though he still seemed preoccupied by those papers. No doubt deciding his next move in this war.

You had to pause at that one, unsure of your response. There was power in names, you were taught at a young age. But, all of that likely meant little now days. The world was flung into chaos and all that mattered was country and cause.

“I assume you have one, don’t you?” He commented, almost amused by your vow of silence towards him.

“Y/N.”

“A lovely name.” A thing all men say, you had come to learn. As if that compliment alone could wash away the distrust you felt. You could only stare at him, eyeing his table like a life line. In a way, it might’ve been. Especially how passionately he pointed at the maps and papers while he spoke to another man dressed like him. They seemed entangled in some deep conversation, not caring in the least that your ears could possibly listen in. For a second, you entertained the idea of running off, but it didn’t matter anymore. Even if you got passed them two, the others could easily dispatch you. There was no hope in getting very far.

“Thank you, Weir.”

“Aye. Don’t go far, Wraysford. Might need you for things.” This Weir waved, patting another soldier on the back as he left the room. They all looked tired, some barely dragging their feet along like they were already dead. Even this Wraysford fellow appeared worn and exhausted, his eyes darkened by the circles underneath them. His hands were dirty, caked in all manner of impurities and it contrasted the way he carried himself. With pride and dignity that you’d come to expect of most soldiers. But the lower your eyes took you, the more you realized just how wearied they all were. His boots, which appeared to be fine leather at one point, were now chipped away at, signaling that the area they came from was not ideal.

For some reason, that gave you the courage to speak up. Wondering on about this man named Wraysford and where he came from. “And you?” He seemed taken back by your question, no doubt surprised by the curiosity now directed towards him. However, his eyes seemed to brighten by it. As if the overwhelming change of topic from war tactics to basic human conversation was preferred and welcomed.

“What of me, Y/N?” He replied, in no particular manner. Yet, the tone of which he spoke your name had a hint of eagerness to it. Like his loneliness was rolling over in waves to be eased.

“What is your name?” You sat unmoved in your spot, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. Wraysford leaned up to his full height, looking you up and down to check for any form of trickery. He had clearly learned far too many harsh lessons by speaking with those outside his uniform.

“Lieutenant.”

“That’s a title, not a name.” You pointed out, observing the corner of his lip almost curve into a smile. A rare thing to witness, you guessed.

“Names mean nothing now.”

“Then why ask mine?” It was almost offensive to you, the lack of trust he sent your way. It may have been entirely warranted in these times, and yet you felt that ache in your chest all the same.

“Lapse of judgement.” He answered, letting the papers he held slip back to the tabletop as he drew towards you. It was like his interest had been piqued, and with that he kneeled once again in front of you. With a stern look your way, he sighed, falling back into the wall and resting his head against it. The heels of his boots scuffed the wooden floorboards, only adding to the damage already done by bombs and bullets alike. You couldn’t divert your gaze elsewhere, so you watched him, noting the refined way he tilted his cap up and removed it. It left his hair a mess, but it only added a charm to him you hadn’t noticed very well before. Up close you could see the fine details of his face, the freckles that dotted every inch of skin. It gave him a less threatening vibe than before and in some way it calmed you. Beneath the cap, laid a human being, capable of atrocities and kindness all the same. Just like you.

“Tell me, Y/N...” he paused, running a hand through his hair as he laid his head roughly back against the wall. He closed his eyes in a mock sense of peace, an official signal of his hint of trust towards you. “How have you survived this far?”

It wasn’t an off inquiry, though you still found it a strange thing to ask. A woman surviving on her own with little food, and no supplies was a likely death sentence. But, here you stood, and only now had you truly thought back on it. Surviving was simply in your nature, you gathered, as it was for everyone. “I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Wraysford chuckled softly, opening one eye to inspect you. There was a strange tug then, like your own curiosity wanted to reach out and graze his cheek in wonder. Maybe that was just your caring side, a symbol of comfort you wanted to offer him. The time for such fancies was over now, though. All you could do was remain silent until he relented.

“It seems that makes two of us. I don’t know how I’ve gotten this far either.”

For him, a lieutenant, to admit to that...it pained you. They all seemed plenty prepared to fight, but in truth, a weapon meant little for survival. It was the mind’s resolve that truly fought this war. You wished he’d see that, because he no doubt had to bare witness to acts no human should see. “I’m...sorry.” It made no sense to apologize, but in that moment you felt for him. For all your anger towards the world and the heartache brought upon you by soldiers of all kinds, you knew he never wanted to harm anyone. Perhaps you were merely sorry for his struggles, or even for him falling into a second of weakness.

“For?” He asked, head leaning up to finally look at you. He held his cap in one hand, dangling it from his knee while he sat there. If it wasn’t for your presence, you were certain he’d of fallen asleep.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” he looked away. “I suppose we all have something to be sorry for these days.”

Another harsh reality, you agreed. Who hadn’t committed a crime to a certain degree. Whether it was killing, stealing, the list went on. “Do you have family?” You blurted out, wondering if he was perhaps married. It was a strange thought to have, but he was so obviously a handsome man, even beneath all that muck and dirt. Someone with a passion like that in their eye, they had to have someone waiting on them back home.

“No.” Wraysford said, once again averting his eyes as if to conquer the demons of his own thoughts. There was another silence then, for a long while. So long, in fact, the light outside had already drifted to darkness and the other soldiers had begun to pick corners to sleep in. You watched them all, wondering about their own families back home. Were they all as alone as you? Or as lonely as Wraysford seemed? It was a depressing thought to linger on, it nearly soured the entire existence of these men.

“Have you ever loved anyone?” The silence was cut by him, his eyes now fully open and engaged with staring at you. You felt a heat rise to your cheeks, the sudden intimate inquiry bringing back fond old memories.

“Y-Yes...” Once, so very long ago, you thought. Or at least it often seemed that way to you. It was hard to remember how long this war had gone on.

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

He had that expression again, genuine sadness for your plight. It made your heart stir, and for a moment you contemplated letting your tears fall.

“I’m sorry.” He only said, opening his mouth like he wished to add more sentiment to that, but there was none. His words could not bring your love back.

“And you?” You curled your legs closer into your body, holding them to save some heat in this cold. His eyes caught that subtle movement, and he quickly removed his large coat from around him before handing it to you. Beneath the thick article, he seemed thin, yet no less imposing. His suspenders hugged his torso tightly, giving him a distinguished look that suited his status. “Thank you.”

“Yes.” He seemed to finally answer, his eyes centered on his hands as he picked dirt off. It was plain he was trying to concentrate some of his thoughts away from the pain that was so evident in his eyes. At least that, he could not hide from you.

“Is she...” You didn’t want to say it, for fear of harming his heart any further. But, you grew the courage and finished. “Dead?”

His lips fell into a solemn smile, before meeting your worried gaze. “She may as well be...” It felt a horrible thing to even say, but those words seemed to hurt him further than anything you could’ve said. You let him stew in his pain, obviously not equipped with any information or skills necessary to nurse it.

This caused the silence to drift in again, and for a second you believed him to be asleep. Except his voice lingered now, a gentler tone laced within it.

“Stephen.” He stated. “My name is Stephen.”

***

A/N: okay so...not a drabble lol

#eddie redmayne #birdsong #stephen wraysford x reader #stephen wraysford #stephen wraysford x you