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rorygilmoreclown · 1 year

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A start

Healer!reader x Nikolai Lanstov

Summary: The reader, who is a healer, was caught by drüskelle and then escaped their ship in a storm and then was rescued by Nikolai as Sturmhond and than slowly fall for each other and one day Nikolai sees reader hit on by someone else and gets jealous and sort of confesses. (I'm sorry I suck at summaries, also i changed the plot a bit so im sorry about that sorry sorry )

A/n: I took my sweet time, didn't I. Anyways, here it is, apologies for all the changes and this crappy writing. Might make a pt2, that's why the ending.

Warnings: None, except for this smirky smirky sunshine babygorl.

As you rouse from your slumber, a jarring realisation dawns upon you: you are no longer on your mission’s base. The scent of salt and brine pervades your nostrils, and the rhythmic groans and creaks of timber assault your ears. It takes only a moment to recall why you are in this predicament, and an acrid churning stirs within your gut.

You are a prisoner aboard the drüskelle vessel, trussed and bound, being ferried to their fortress to face their uncompromising brand of justice. The harsh squawks of the drüskelle assault your ears, censuring you for your supposed offences, their eyes brimming with nothing but antipathy and scorn for your Grisha talents. You strive to maintain your composure, reminding yourself of your mettle, but their venomous invective feels like barbs upon your flesh.

As the tempest rages on, you sense the ship pitching and yawing, at the mercy of the storm's capricious whims. Then, a deafening crack reverberates throughout the vessel, and you are flung forward, your head colliding with the bars of your cell. You hear the splintering of wood and the screams of the drüskelle, but all you can focus on is the pulsating throb in your head.

But then, a fortuitous miracle transpires. The cell confining you snaps free from its moorings and is hurled into the tumultuous waters. You acted quickly to save yourself, your appendages flailing as you struggled to stay afloat amidst the mayhem. Somehow, you manage to make it to the shore, gasping for air and quivering from the chill.

As you survey your surroundings, a colossal ship looms in the distance, and optimism swells within you, and so does dread. You remember that you are still clad in your kefta, and it may be your sole chance at survival, or another reason for a capture. As the ship draws closer, you discern a figure emerging from it, and your heart braces itself for either a negotiation or a fight. His eyes widen in astonishment as he espies you, a solitary survivor on the shore. He strides towards you, his voice ringing out like a sunbeam amidst the tempest.

Greetings madam, I am Sturmhond, the legendary privateer and captain of the vessel.

Are you injured, we have a medik on our ship? He paused, as if he said something humorous as well as imprecatory. Apologies for asking that question, is it offensive to ask a healer if they require medical assistance?

That was the first time you saw that stupid smirk followed by a loud yet comforting laughter. It sounded true, as if you weren’t on some abandoned island, about to ask for an abode from a stranger, and you feel a lump form in your throat as tears threaten to spill over. And that’s how you boarded the The Volkvolny.

You stare at Sturmhond in disbelief as he proposes his deal. Safety in exchange of your healing help. The words are hard to process, and your heart feels like it's in your throat. The thought of being safe from the Ravkans and drüskelle fills you with relief, but the idea of being on a ship with a stranger is daunting.

You take a deep breath and consider his offer, recalling the events that led you to this point. The Ravkan court, a place that was supposed to be safe and secure, turned into a nightmare when you were assaulted by one of its members. The thought of staying there was unbearable, and none of the other court members did anything to help you. You had to escape, and now you are at the mercy of a privateer captain.

But there is something about Sturmhond that feels different. His eyes are kind and understanding, and you get the sense that he genuinely cares about your well-being. You decide to take a chance, and nod your head in agreement.

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Excellent. You won't regret it, I promise. And just to be clear, you will be safe from any Ravkans or drüskelle on my ship. You have my word.

As the ship sets sail, you find yourself growing more and more comfortable in your new surroundings. You observe the crew, their different backgrounds and stories, and feel a sense of belonging that you haven't felt in a long time. You start to let your guard down around Sturmhond, telling him about your past and your hopes for the future. He listens to you with empathy and understanding, and you feel like you can truly be yourself around him.

As a part-Shu, you find yourself forming a close bond with Tamar and Tolya aboard Sturmhond's ship. Tolya is a flirt, and he often directs his playful advances towards you. Sturmhond notices and becomes increasingly snippy, trying to interrupt your conversations with Tolya. But Tolya persists, sometimes just to get a rise out of Sturmhond.

One day, as you're assisting the ship's healer with her duties, Tolya comes up beside you and leans in close. Are you a healer? he whispers. Because you just cured my loneliness. You can't help but laugh at his audacity, but you know it's all in good fun.

In another scene, you're practising some Grisha skills with Tamar when Tolya approaches. Are you a Corporalki? he asks, grinning. Because you just made my heart skip a beat. Tamar rolls her eyes at Tolya's antics, and you can't help but chuckle at his attempt at humour.

A few days later, as you and Tolya are chatting on the deck, he looks at you intently. Are you a healer like me? he asks. Because I'm feeling a strong connection between us. You can't help but feel a small flutter in your chest at his words, but you know it's just Tolya being Tolya.

As the journey goes on, you appreciate Tolya's sense of humour and his easy going nature. You come to see him as a good friend and confidant, and you value the bond you share. One night, as the two of you are sitting alone on the deck, Tolya looks at you with a tender expression. Are you a Bonesmith? he asks softly. Because you just mended my broken heart. You smile at his words, but you know that you don't feel anything more than friendship for him. Unfortunately, Sturmhond takes these positive affirmations as an indicator of your interest in Tolya. As Tolya departs to attend to some task, you're left feeling grateful for the friendship you share and the camaraderie of your journey aboard Sturmhond's ship.

As time passes on, the tension between you and the captain grows, being very transparent for everyone but you two. The night was alive with laughter and music as Sturmhond's crew celebrated their latest successful mission. You were enjoying the festivities, chatting with Tamar and Tolya when a Ravkan nobleman approached you. He looked at you with a smirk on his lips, his eyes scanning your body. Well, well, well. What do we have here? A part-Shu healer? You must be quite the exotic beauty.

You felt uncomfortable under his gaze and tried to step back, but the nobleman grabbed your arm tightly. Tolya and Tamar shot him a sharp look, but he ignored them. Just as you were about to say something, Sturmhond appeared by your side, his arm wrapped around your waist possessively. There you are, my love. I've been searching for you everywhere.

The Ravkan nobleman's eyes widened in surprise at Sturmhond's sudden appearance. Oh, I didn't know you had a lover. Sturmhond gave a charming smile, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. Yes, she's quite dear to me. Now, if you'll excuse us.

He guided you away from the nobleman, leading you to a quieter corner of the room. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your reaction to the incident. Are you all right? he asked, his tone laced with concern. You nodded, grateful for his intervention. Thank you, Sturmhond. I was getting a little uncomfortable there.

He gave you a small smile, his hand still resting on your waist. I won't let anyone make you feel uncomfortable. After a boyish smirk that broke on his face, indicating of his crooked humour slipping through this serious situation, you knew it was to make the mood lighter. Afterall, the deal was to protect you from the Ravkans.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to Sturmhond's protectiveness, his easy charm making your heart race. And as the party came to an end, you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more between the two of you. Although you were a little disappointed as he mentioned protecting you only due to the deal.

After Sturmhond rescued you from the trespasser at the party, he dragged you to the higher part of the ship. Your heart was pounding with anticipation, wondering what he wanted to tell you. As he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and safety in his presence. You couldn't help but notice how he kept looking at you with that intense gaze of his. Was he jealous of the other man who was flirting with you earlier? Did he really have feelings for you?

Suddenly, Sturmhond broke the silence with a joke, So, I'm guessing we're officially boyfriend and girlfriend now? You couldn't help but chuckle at his playful tone. He couldn't believe he had just made that joke. He had been wanting to confess his feelings to you for so long but was too afraid of rejection. Was he being too subtle? Did she even get the hint?

Feeling bold, you responded with a joke of your own, I don't know, Sturmhond. You'll have to take me on a proper date first. You couldn't resist teasing him a little. After all, he had been flirting with you all night. As you both laughed at your playful banter, Sturmhond reached out and gently took your hand in his. He held his breath as he waited for your response. Did he really just confess his love to you? Was he about to get his heart broken? You couldn't believe it. The person you had been crushing on for so long felt the same way. Was this really happening?

As Sturmhond leaned in for a kiss, you closed your eyes and let yourself be swept away in the moment. All of your doubts and worries faded away as you realised that you had found the person who made your heart feel whole. As he kissed you, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had finally told you how he felt, and you had reciprocated. This was the start of something new, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

Word Count: 1.8k

#grishaverse #nikolai #six of crows #nikolai x reader #nikolai lanstov #shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov x reader #prince nikolai #rule of wolves #king nikolai #nikolai duology

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beanstalk-nicholas · 2 years

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[IMAGE ID: Two anonymous asks.

The first reads, "Oh I know NOTHING about supernatural, so maybe a summary of what happens in this au? Or the roles the characters fulfill?

The second reads, "ROTTMNT SPN AU WHAT ARE,, THEIR ROLES LIKE HOW DO THEY PLAY IN I don't even know where to BEGIN this has my frothing at the mouth infodump please I am begging you"

END ID]

(thank you @cherrycreamsicle for making the image id!)

I’m glad people are interested in this au! Because these are similar questions I’m answering both in a giant infodump under the cut

(also I started thinking of this idea less than 48 hours ago so things may change/there’s still a lot I haven’t figured out yet!)

For people who don’t know much about the tv show supernatural that’s okay! I’m borrowing a lot of loose elements from the earlier seasons (mainly the aesthetics and angst haha). All you need to know is that Dean is the older brother and Sam is the younger, and they grew up on the road hunting monsters with their shitty dad while wearing lots of flannel.

In a way this au is also a half separated au lol. This is because Leo and Donnie were raised together by Draxum (with Donnie being the “Dean” and Leo being the “Sam”), and Raph and Mikey were raised together by Splinter (with Raph being “Dean” and Mikey being “Sam).

Draxum raised Leo and Donnie to be fighters and were constantly pitted against each other. This made them very competitive (and kinda violent) as they constantly tried to “win over” Draxum’s affection. (Leo began to realize that they would never be good enough and eventually ran out, but Donnie was more desperate for Draxum’s approval, and thus, more loyal to him)

Like in rise, splinter is very distant (especially emotionally) so Raph was basically raising Mikey by himself. I also think it would be interesting if they grew up at/near the Roadhouse, where April also works (fulfilling a similar role as Jo. In supernatural, the roadhouse is basically a bar where hunters pass through, hang out, share information, etc. in this au it would function similarly for hunters/maybe yokai instead?). Because Raph was very doting on Mikey, as they got older Mikey got tired of it and wanted to be independent, so he fucked off to art school (sorry Mikey I’m not diagnosing you with lawboy <3)

Draxum still created all the brothers in an attempt to create the perfect “warrior”. How Raph and Mikey got separated and how all four of them reunited as adults are questions I haven’t figured out yet LOL. Just know that they grew up thinking “I only have one brother” and then BOOM more brothers. Im definitely much more interested in exploring all the new brothers dynamics/angst this au entails! I already have drawing ideas for that so instead of writing more y’all will have to wait a bit ;)

If people have more questions please send me more asks! (Also if anyone makes any art for this au PLEASE tag me I will CRY from joy)

Also teenage mutant flannel turtles was a joke name but I think it might be sticking oops

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #supernatural #spn #rottmnt #rottmnt spn au #teenage mutant flannel turtles #tmft #tmft au #text post #asks #anons #anonymous #long post

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startheskeletons · 2 years

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Sorry if Im bothering you but now that we have seen Big Mamas reaction to the kids, how did Splinter and the other turtles react???

Honestly could see Donnie being the one who says he doesnt like them around but never turns down the offer to babysit xD

Sorry for the late response!! I’ve been drawing a lot

But honestly it was different for each kid Raph and Shino had!

Artemisia!

-Splinter was absolutely over the moon for his first grandchild. He definitely used the “out of the way, #1 grandpa coming through” whenever Artie was in the lair. Since she was definitely an easy baby, Splinter had no trouble holder her for naps, especially when watching his programs

-Leo was mostly amused that his brother basically copy and pasted himself, because Artie looked exactly like Raph. However whenever he got the chance and saw that no one was around he would tell the baby little stories about her familyBut then the moment someone walks in he holds the baby like a football

-Donnie was not sure how he was going to feel about a baby in the lair, mostly he was worried that his tech wouldn’t be allowed around them. But he was happy to find out how easy it was with Artie, happily placing her in a special play pin in his lab while working. Not to mention he would shamelessly steal those little baby cereal snacks that Shino packed, because those were delicious

-Mikey was excited the moment he found out he was gonna be an uncle. Doing all the research he could on babies and the like, he basically was the most prepared one for when Artie actually arrived. If Splinter wasn’t the one holding the baby… it was definitely Mikey.

Tsuruko

-Splinter was expecting another easy baby…. That was not the case. Cocoa was a screamer and had a resting bitch face with anyone who wasn’t her mom. Splinter still held her but he definitely needed earplugs just so he wouldn’t lose his hearing. He was more then happy to keep it at two grandkids from Raph after that.

- Leo also used earplugs with Cocoa, however with years of dealing with his dad’s snorting trained him for this. Leo definitely had the most fun messing with Cocoa because she was a very durable baby, he could just carry her by the back of the shirt and she would be fine

- Donnie…. Was actually able to calm Cocoa down. The baby absolutely adored her uncle and would cling to him the moment he held her. She even fell asleep in his loud laboratory, watching him with big eyes as he worked. Donnie rubbed it in everyone’s face how he was able to quiet the baby. But his favorite thing was that Cocoa actually listened to his scientific ramblings

-Mikey was scared of Cocoa… plain and simple… and he had good reason to be

Anansi

- Splinter was very scared on how the new baby would be… thankfully she was very calm… but she was a bitter… and she was born with sharp fangs… that Splinter learned about the hard way. He still loved her but wore gardening gloves while holding her

-Leo gave his brother shit for having three kids after saying he would only have two. However Leo still loved his niece, making her watch all the Jupiter Jim movies with him… because she was a baby and had no say in the matter. But she would watch them all intently tho

-Donnie found himself amused by the fact that the baby had powers that no one really figured out until they happened. So he made tech that could get the baby off the ceiling when she crawled up there and withstand her strong bite. If anything she became a test subject for him and Tsuruko’s projects

-Mikey and Ana immediately formed a bond the moment they met. Ana loved the paintings and stickers her uncle made, and Mikey loved how happy his work made his niece. You can always find the baby climbing onto the back of Mikey’s shell, snoozing or drawing on it with crayons. Mikey was even able to teach Ana how to walk, mostly because she fallowed him all around the lair

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #daughter of the spider au #rottmnt ask blog #rottmnt au #rottmnt raph #shino #yokai #yokaiart #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt splinter #canon x oc #artemisia hamato #tsuruko hamato #Anansi hamato

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truthdawn · 8 months

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thoughts/ideas that ive had with the rise turtles under the cut (btw its kinda long and its just me rambling. youve been warned)

ive had 2 ideas for aus. One of them is like a splatoon au and the other one ive just titled “bad ending”. I’ll elaborate a bit more on that lower but first the splatoon stuff:

ok so the turtles might be octolings just because I want to stay more lore accurate so ig living in a sewer would be the splatoon equivalent of being an octoling before splatoon 2 (and octo dlc) events (but I really wanna just make designs for both species for all brothers anywayssss)

also new idea I literally had while typing this but what if eye masks were color of masks. so like raph having a red eye mask, mikey have a orange one, etc

ANYWAYS ive already decided (for now) what weapons each brother uses:

-raph uses a splatling, probably a hydra. or maybe tenta brella

-donnie uses a charger or a blaster (but most likely the charger.

-leo uses any splatana. I dont think he’d care which one in particular

-mikey will either use a slosher deco (since it has zipcaster) or an inkbrush. uhhhh yea their ink would probably be different colors. maybe the ends of the hair would be tinted green though. or maybe during specials itd be the same colors for all of them. btw specials would be the same as using their ninpo

splinter would be like cuttlefish to the agents in regards to the turtles. so he’s not their biological father nor the same species but hes still a father figure. april would be an inkling

OH OH NEW THOUGHT. since in the show mikey would hide in his shell sometimes I think the splatoon equivalent of that would be going squid form (or in their case octopus form)

uhhh I havent watched the movie yet but I know a lot about it SO I guess that the equivalent of the krang in this universe would be like. mr grizz. I dont think itd be like a tartar type of infection because you can physically remove the krang from your body and once youre sanitized you cant remove it (unless its like an agent 3 thing) but personally I think an infection more like the fuzzy ooze would fit better because unlike getting sanitized it makes the victim feral WHICH has more similair behaviors to the krang than getting sanitized

OK NEXT IS THE “bad ending” au idea

again, havent watched the movie yet (trying to finish the tv show first, im on episode 14) but basically its an au where everything is bad and nothing is happy (<- could not for the LIFE of me figure out how to phrase it and ended up with this. sorry lol)

but uh ig to make it a bit more clear (man my grammar sure is something rn huh?) I wanted to make an au where the ending was already “set” but I could add things like backstories and lore sooo imma have fun with that once it happens >:D

ill have to watch the movie to flesh out the events a bit more but what I have right now is that casey was never able to find/warn the turtles in time of krang invasion and that ended up with each of the turtle brothers getting corrupted. AGAIN. I WILL WATCH THE MOVIE. AND READ LORE. sorry if this seems inaccurate to movie stuff (even though this au really only needs the lore from the very beginning of the movie)

a little spoiler for the au (because I kinda wanna make little comics or stories for them..) but raph got corrupted first, then mikey (but hes not technically “fully” corrupted), then donnie, and then leo. april and casey are both still alive but splinter is missing. not dead or anything but just missing

ANYWAYS. *claps hands together* HEADCANON TIME (also ideas that ive had to draw. you can use them too if you want just credit me mk)

once raph got flipped over on his shell and instead of helping leo used him like a beyblade. he was NOT happy

mikey has (on several occasions) drawn on his brothers shells when theyre asleep or not paying attention (for donnie he draws on the battle shell lol)

if mikey really wants their attention he'll scream really loudly

sometimes leo will put stuff in donnies coffee to make him sleep especially if donnie hasn't sleep in a while (cause donnies a stubborn bitch who thinks sleep isnt real)

raph once got so mad he broke an entire arcade game and then had to go get a new one (haha L)

all of them dont think they need therapy (they do)

sometimes when donnie talks for too long leo will just go "BREATHE."

final headcanons below because I wanted to separate them from the rest (what happens in arguments depending on the brothers arguing)

mikey barely argues with anyone but when he does argue (and is serious about it) he does NOT hold back

raph and donnie arguments are usually what its like to have arguments online (donnie tries to explain why hes right and raph just goes "nuh uh ur wrong and im right")

raph and leo arguments are much more common and heated than stated above. raph will usually raise his voice towards leo and then leo will just not care and try to make a joke out of it (that always turns out badly). sometimes they even cry lol

donnie and leo arguments are VERY physical. leo would say something and then when donnie says something back hed push or shove him and then that turns into a full blown fight

they always make up though :3

heres the end. you made it through this. congrats and thank u for reading my rambles about stuff. this will not be the last time btw. feel free to ask questions about any of this or use my headcanons for stuff (credit me though if ya do). thats it buh bye (this is all queued ill still probably be asleep by the time this posts lol)

#These have been stuck in my head all day #I NEED TO GET THEM OUT #rottmnt #splatoon #<- youll see once ya read it #save #bad ending au

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hinacu-arts · 1 year

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I posted 753 times in 2022

That's 689 more posts than 2021!

225 posts created (30%)

528 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@help-i-need-a-cool-username

@hinacu-arts

@millylotus

@void-inked-pen

@freakadr0id

I tagged 713 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#hinacu tmnt - 166 posts

#rottmnt - 114 posts

#hinacu au - 106 posts

#hinacu sonic - 98 posts

#rwby - 86 posts

#hinacu rwby - 80 posts

#tffm fic - 78 posts

#hinacu xover - 67 posts

#tmnt 2012 - 61 posts

#bbc the fic - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#when i walk and i really wanna put a sash in but would i ever actually wear it? no i'll leave it out for now maybe i'll add some jewelry and

My Top Posts in 2022:

Some sonic drawings i wanna do after i figure out how to draw them

Tails sitting on Tom's shoulders. They are wearing matching sunglasses

Sonic puffing up all spiky

Maddie and Knuckles doing yoga together

Knuckles demolishing a carnival strength game

Redraw these scenes:

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390 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

One again on the cusp of finally attempting a fic, and once again its crack taken seriously

You know all those fics where 2012!Mikey shows up in Riseverse and the brothers instantly adopt him and he doesnt want to go home? Yeah its that but from the 2012 gangs perspective, as they fight the Rise cast in stages (they win, they "get Mikey back"). Leo and Donnie are always Extra™️ so its set up like a videogame, and the boss battle is Splinter Rat Jitsu. Theres a fog machine so all 2012 can see of Casey Jr. is the glowing eyes in his mask. April introduces herself by coming up behind 12!Raph and hitting him so hard he flies. Donnie's "stage" is Albertoland and he's clearly unhinged the entire time. Raph doesnt really wanna fight so its essentially him just pushing 2012 back with little effort. Leo and Mikey Dr. Delicate Touch are a duo. Cassandra comes out of the shadows with both her masks on and gives 2012 a run for their money. At the end 2012 run through the last door, expecting to see 12!Mikey tied up, but he's just chilling with Draxum on the couch eating chips and salsa

EDIT: i did it Ao3 and FFnet

470 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

another possible crossover scene that has absolutely nothing to do with anything (but i laughed so im sharing)

rise! Leo: Your Casey and Donnie don't like each other? Oh this is really funny.

2012! Leo: what... do you mean?

rise! Leo, snickering: well you see, in my world Donnie and Casey are kinda married...

2012! Everyone: WHAT?!

rise! Leo: yeah, so first off we're in Florida-

2012! Raph: why were you in Florida?!

rise! Leo: and we got our tails handed to us pretty bad. Raph busted his hand up, April fractured a couple ribs, Donnie had a concussion, Cassie messed up her knee, yadda yadda. So, we're on some heavy duty painkillers, and Mikey-

rise! Leo: actually I think i have the wedding on video actually. *pulls out phone*

rise! Leo: ahhh no it must be on Mikey's phone. This video was the same night though!

Video!Leo: so, tell me Don-Don, how would you rate your whole Florida experience?

Video!Donnie, who clearly is not 100% coherent: two outta ten. Do not reccomend.

Video!Leo: but you still give it a two?

Video!Donnie: the humidity and heat are pretty nice but that's the only good thing about this state.

rise! Leo: i'll just fast forward to the relevant part.

Video!Mikey: Donnie! You're the smart one-

Video!Donnie, off screen: right you are!

Video!Mikey: PLEASE tell Casey that people who go through Vegas' drive through wedding chapels are real and actual marriages!

Video!Donnie: of course Vegas weddings are real!

Video!Mikey: aha!

Video!Donnie: its every other drive thru wedding chapel who's marriages are a sham.

Video!Casey, to Mikey: aha!

Video!April: im pretty sure they're also legal-

Video!Donnie: no they arent!

Video!Casey: You heard Mikey, Purple's the smart one, so he must be right! Which makes me right!

Video!Raph: but your stance was on Vegas weddings-

Video!Leo, behind the camera: if you two are so sure about this why don't you go test it out? Theres a drive through chapel 45 minutes awayyyy

Video!Casey: no thats too far. You couldn't pay me to sit in a van with all five of you for that long.

Video!Leo: what if I paid you both $50?

Video!Donnie: done! CASSANDRA! What is your middle name I need to propose properly

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572 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Every time i play around with a 2012 x 2018 crossover set in 2018 verse i get secondhand self conscious and dial back the affection between 2018's extended cast. But you know what? No. Let 2012 and every other verse get uncomfortable with being in a environment filled with so much undisputed love

2018 boys cuddle on the couch. One of the boys will plop their head in 18!April's lap. Casey Jr. will slide up under 18!Leo's arm and doze off while leaning into his chest. Draxum comes over for lunch every Saturday and 18!Mikey excitedly calls him "Dad" while bouncing around him the first hour he's there. 18!Splinter kisses his sons goodnight if he sees them on his way to bed, including alternate universe counterpart sons. The Hamatos are huggers and every time 18!April or Sunita or Cassandra drop by, and on the rare occasion Sr. Hueso or Big Mama deliver something, they get a big hello hug. Cassandra greets Casey Jr. with hugs and dramatic cheek kisses and Casey Jr. has the biggest smile on his face the whole time. 18!Raph's just constantly beaming affection. 18!Leo will drape himself off everyone and everything. "I love you"s are said in almost every goodbye. No one is ashamed to admit they crawl into each others' beds at night after bad dreams or scary movies, often just telling a 2012 thats looking for them to jusy come to that room that morning because theyre comfy and dont want to move. 18!April regularly wears 18!Donnie's sweatshirts and trades off with him throughout the day (she likes baggy sweatshirts, Donnie likes warm sweatshirts), even after 12!Donnie and the teasing his brothers not-so-quietly do makes it a little uncomfortable, because this is something small that makes the other happy and a couple stares is hardly a price. 18!Mikey actively does gestures of affection (ex. making someone's favorite meal, making a painting, playing with April's hair, etc). 18!Donnie will walk away from a project if someone expressly states they wanna spend time with him (videogames are a whole different story). Sitting on top of each other because the booths at Run of the Mill cant hold 12+ people (Leo's sideways in Donnie's lap with his arms around his neck, Mikey is sitting on top of the booth with April sitting in front of him between his legs and his plate balanced on her head, Cassandra is propped up on Raph's shell and Casey Jr. is on his knee, Sunita has one leg on the seat and the other in April's lap) while 2012 try to pretend they arent uncomfortable with being squished together in a row. Todd shows up being Todd and 2018 actively and enthusiastically join in his sappy friendship things. The boys using their ten thousand dad nicknames for 18!Splinter. 18!Mikey running around to get goodnight hugs and kisses

702 notes - Posted September 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Drew this meme for a tmnt 2012 x rottmnt crossover and now i wanna draw more

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1,593 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #hinacu

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squidsqwag · 8 months

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yknow what since im too tired 2 DRAW them but too hyped up 2 NOT do smth involving it heres a buncha random tidbits abt my ( very work in progress … ) tmnt iteration , tmnt : inheritance !! :3

the main premise is this : splinter dies , and with leo being the oldest of the turtles ( 14 y/o at the time ), he leaves her with the responsibility of taking care of her siblings on her own and becoming their sensei instead of him. i heart making characters suffer at a young age <3 ( im evilll )

it takes place currently in the dreadful year of 2020 , but i might change that later. either way , the ages would still b the same ! leo is 19, mikey & donnie r 16 ( twinsies ), and raph is 14 ( the idea of this typically big grumpy hotheaded dude being the youngest has always been a funny idea 2 me lol ), casey is 16 and april is 18

heres sum lgbt stuff 4 ya — leo ( aka lea ): she/her , transgirl , lesbian. donnie : they/them , intersex bigender ( demiboy/demigirl ), omnisexual ace. mikey : literally just read my bio lol. raph : he/it/fang/rawr , feralgender boy , aro. casey : he/they , transmasc , queer. april : it/its/april/aprils , astrogender , unlabeled. karai : she/they , butchgender , lesbian. both splinter ( male ) and shredder ( female ) r cis and bisexual. phew ! dats a lotta queers

casey gets introduced b4 april here. im still tryna figure out exactly how he finds these weirdos .. hes always gunna b a loser vigilante in my eyes

april’s role is EXTREMELY different from normal. i stole the awsom idea 2012 had with april being half kraang and it spiraled from there .. april’s been living with the kraang its entire life. i havent decided on if the turtles meet april in the obligatory space arc OR right after the kraang show up on earth , but either way they talk sum sense into it , leading 2 april abandoning the kraang n living with the turtles

donnie n april r bffs 4eva !!! shortly after it befriended the turtles , april took a great interest in learning abt earth n stuff so donnie immediately jumped on the opportunity 2 info dump 2 sumbody thats actually interested in what they have 2 say. april writes down everything donnie says during info dumps. it also does this with pretyy much evry1 else bc april wants 2 get along with them better by learning things they like !!! <3

yea shredder’s a girl , I LOVE WOMEN 💥💥💥💥 ( explosion sfx )

( TW TRANSPHOBIA ) fun fact while splinter was alive he nevr once called lea by her preferred name , prns , etc. it’s complicated bc splinter and lea had a rlly good relationship otherwise , but the constant misgendering always left a bad taste in her mouth. splinter’s death meant she would nevr see her father change his mind 2 accept her as his daughter , evr. all those years of hoping and waiting were 4 nothing ! yippee !!!!

dw im working in jonatello sumwhere cmon yknow me i would nevr miss out on an opportunity 2 shove them into evrything

same thing with aprileo i need more of them pretyy please

#🦑misc #this is such a passion project u can probably tell haha X’)#tmnt: inheritance

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gojology · 3 years

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Jealousy. (1/3)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | im a sucker for jealous teenage gojo and thats all u have to know

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Teen! Gojo Satoru x Gender Neutral Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1236

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Light Cursing. ALL CHARACTERS HERE ARE AGED DOWN FROM PRESENT ANIME/MANGA INTO WHEN THEY WERE TEENAGERS.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Gojo hates whenever you spend time with Geto. Unfortunately, you do that more than half the time. He can’t put a finger on it, but he has a feeling of dread whenever he sees Geto with you, and silently wishes it’s him. Shoko tries helping. Gojo’s eyes glared at you and Geto, he was grateful his eyes were concealed behind his dark shades. A beautiful warm orangey-yellow coated you two both, Gojo noted how golden hour suited you so well, but for once paid no mind to Geto. Both of you were sweating incredibly hard, but didn’t seem to mind the sticky skin and the clothing.

You were profusely giggling, and every time you caught your breath, Geto would tickle you again and you’d burst into a fit of giggles, and the cycle would repeat.

Your cans of Pepsi sat untouched, not even the caps were opened. Grumbling, Gojo took another swig out of his second energy drink. Still looking at the both of you through his glasses. He sat down on a bench, hunched over. Even though he hated the very sight of you hanging out and being so friendly with each other, he didn’t want to leave.

Was it fear of Geto kissing you without Gojo’s vision cast upon you two?

“Stalking (Y/N) and Geto again?” a familiar serious voice grumbled, Gojo’s head swung around before he realized Shoko was sitting down on the bench next to him. She crossed her leg, Shoko’s shoulder length hair ruffled a bit in the weak breeze as she shifted her gaze towards him.

Gojo blinked, cursing himself for being so obvious in his stalking endeavors. It would be too useless to even argue, trying to tell Shoko that he wasn’t even looking at them, and rather very interested at a random bench that just so happened to be next to the pair was comparable to just straight up admitting that you had a crush on (Y/N).

“This is my first time even lookin at the two, fuck are you talking about, saying again?” Gojo placed a hand on his chest, leaning backwards a little. Grinning a little while taking another generous swig of his energy drink. “Free entertainment, I’d rather look at them then some fucking birds flying by.”

“Mmm. Yeah okay.” Shoko nodded sarcastically, and then burst into a fit of giggles.

“What?”

“Holy shit, Satoru.” Shoko was now holding her stomach. Wiping the corners of her eyes. It had been a while since he had seen Shoko laugh like that, she was always doom and gloom all the time. Gojo couldn’t quite put a finger on why she was laughing, though.

“I’m not that stupid, Satoru.” laughing again, opening her drink loudly, then taking a short sip of her canned coffee. I’m pretty sure I see you looking at (Y/N) more then I see you gloating to some dumb schoolgirls in public.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“You get defensive when you’re lying.” Shoko stuck her pinky out, her eyes bore into his. Gulping down the rest of her drink. She crushed it with a singular hand, examining the wrinkles and folds in the now compressed and beyond repair tin.

“I do not! You’re accusing me of some weird ass shit, you know.” Gojo spat out, an unfamiliar feeling bubbling inside of him. He had never felt this before. Playing with the hem of his pocket a little, he reached for his emergency candy that he always had in his back pocket, he hated awkward situations like this. He stared down at Shoko, heart beating quickly for some unbeknownst reason.

He played a little with the wrapper in his pocket, while Shoko leaned her back on the bench, looking at the sky. She crossed her arms, setting the crushed can on the splintered wood bench, blowing on a stray hair on her face. “Whatever, Satoru.” she grinned, replying a little later. She stood up, casually throwing the can into the nearby trashcan. She shoved her hands into her pockets, walking down the gravel path.

As her figure grew farther and farther into the distance, Gojo sighed, realizing that he had completely forgotten about you and Geto.

He turned his head over his shoulder, this time not as obviously. You and Geto were still giggling with each other, like a stupid couple. Your Pepsi cans still sat untouched, water dripping down the both of them. It was like the two of you forgot Gojo or Shoko were ever there.

He spat at the ground, guzzling down the remaining energy drink. Crushing the can, just like Shoko had done but with way more aggression, Gojo angrily threw it into the trashcan, grinding his teeth. ‧₊˚✩彡. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” You screamed, arms up in the air, hair blowing in the wind. Geto was chasing after you around the grass field, Gojo’s legs splayed out, entranced by the two of you running around in circles. “I’M GONNA FUCKING GET YOU, (Y/N)!” Geto grabbed at the air, running at you. You squealed loudly, running even faster. Gojo mindlessly took a bite out of a sandwich, spitting out a tomato. He was sitting on a picnic blanket under the shade of an incredibly large tree, enjoying the cool against his sweaty, hot skin. Yet, not once considering taking his glasses off even though the sun wasn’t even in his way. He was wearing a more casual t-shirt and a pair of shorts, compared to his usual Jujutsu Tech uniform. He enjoyed the casual wear, and felt like a normal teen for once, doing normal teen things. “Gross.” Shoko tilted her head, her legs also splayed out. She was also looking at you and Geto running around, yelping turned into giggling as Geto finally tagged you. “The tomato or the lovebirds?” “Both.” Gojo snickered, looking down. The familiar, negative feeling expanded inside of him again. It always occurred when he saw you and Geto having fun. “Mmmm.” Shoko looked down on the picnic blanket, it had been custom decorated by the group. It was a group celebration after the crew had defeated all of the curses in a certain small village. Gojo had drawn an incredibly large stick figure, with his iconic pair of black circular sunglasses and his hair. A tiny person stood next to him, with a smiley face. A heart between the two. He had also drawn multiple penises, and a pair of incredibly circular breasts, but that was besides the point. Shoko speculated that Gojo probably had a crush on (Y/N). If he didn’t, Shoko figured he just wanted (Y/N) in his bed, one or another. It didn’t take a lot to figure Gojo out. Shoko wondered how stupid (Y/N) could be, not noticing Gojo’s crush when he obliviously stared at them like an absolute buffoon. On the other side, Geto and (Y/N) decided to collaborate together, Geto had drawn (Y/N), and (Y/N) had drawn Geto. Both of them were hideous. “Ugly, right?” Gojo scoffed, looking down at the drawings. Silently wishing that he was in Geto’s place. “How’d you know I was staring at the drawings?” Shoko shot back, a triumphant, cocky smirk on her face. Gojo whistled, leaning on the tree trunk. His head resting on his hands, which he had propped up to rest his head against. “Strong people just know these things.” Gojo furiously dug into the ice box, yanking out a chilled, sugary pink lemonade. He held it to his forehead and sighed in relief. Shoko turned over, now looking at Gojo’s ear. She narrowed her eyes. “Satoru, have you ever considered that you have a crush on (Y/N)?”

#teenage gojo satoru #gojo satoru #jjk gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojou #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk geto suguru #geto suguru #jjk shoko ieiri #shoko ieiri #ALL CHARACTERS ARE TEENAGERS IN SECOND YEAR

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leomitchellart · 4 years

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So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself.

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed.

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour.

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year.

- The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand.

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no.

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for.

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead. Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves.

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine.

#Inktober #Inktober 2020 #My two penneth #Jake Parker #alphonso dunn

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 4 years

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When tensions break too often- a dark side au story

So I got my ideas back for some angst and some tension in this au, and I just couldnt resist writing it. Plus its a good way to warm me back up into doing things for this au.

This is also a bit of a deeper dive into the dynamics of darkside! Virgil and the other dark sides and how they all bounce and thrive off each other, as well a some backstory and peeks at the full effects of Deceit leaving( jealousy is with the dark sides but is only mentioned, he currently doesnt make much of an appearance in this one in particular, he gets his own angst later)

This was fun to write, not gonna lie. Its been awhile an this is gonna be long so buckle up with me

I also got alot of inspiration to finally write this out(and revise parts of it) due in part to @aimasup ‘s recent comics and writings about their kid sides(which I love, like alot alot and I hope they dont mind me getting super inspired by it!)

ships: Past prinxiety, past anxciet, implied intruxiety, implied intrulogical, implied intruloxiety, implied one sided remus x wrath, implied past demus, implied current roceit

Im putting a trigger warning here for cussing, fighting(verbal and physical), descriptions of panic attacks and emotional breakdowns, violence, gross and inappropriate language, some body horror descriptions, as well as implied unsympathetic sides(all sides are morally grey but the perspective is biased towards the dark sides as its seen from Wrath’s view- keep that in mind)

Things are about to get angsty my friends but i promise it ends happy(for once in this au)

I hope you guys enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~

Wrath Sanders had a lot more patience then almost everyone gave him credit for. Most considered him the biggest hothead there was, going off at the first irritation. But, the truth was he was eerily patient...Sure he may simmer and seethe and hold onto things in unhealthy grudges, but he never lost his cool as often as some would want you to believe.

Wrath Sanders kept his cool during many things, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had sat back through many things, biting his tongue to hold back the venom and yelling and grinding his teeth together in anger and forced himself to sit through many many things that happened around him out of respect- out of a deep fucking respect- for Virgil’s Fear’s Anxiety’s authority. Instead, he watched shit go down over and over again and held himself back from reacting towards the problem, focusing his energy on the recovery.

But, the most recent event was his last fucking straw.

It had happened seemingly out of nowhere, Wrath had been slumped down on their shitty lumpy couch boredly watching some dumb movie. It was getting later in the night, around 10 maybe 11 and he had one of Remus’s crappy beers partially drank in his hand. He was just getting up to change the movie or turn it off all together when the whole house seemed to shift violently, the walls seeming to tremble. There was a moment of confusion before he heard it.

“ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

His whole body jolted to its feet unsteadily as the sound of Anxiety’s pain wreaked scream filled the house to an almost deafening volume as it distorted and deepened. His body moved before his mind, lurching over the couch and running for the source of the scream as another one wailed out even louder than the first, the sound muffling the breaking bottle and violently shaking the walls with their reverb. He heard other sounds too underneath, glass shattering heavy objects banging and wood splintering, wallpaper shredding. A third screech rang out, cutting itself in half with echoing high pitched sobs.

He hadnt been the first to make it to his room.

Wrath watched as he turned the corner in time to see Remus destroy Anxiety’s door with his morning star, a wild and desperately freaked out look to his glowing eyes as wood splintered and gave out under the weapon, some sending cuts into his cheeks. The creative side was then out of sight in a flash, forcing his way into the room yelling as to be heard over the screams.

Remembering the pain, the fear the absolute panic in Remus’s normally confident voice sent a deeper chill down his spine than the screams had.

“ Virgy??!! Fuck fuck fuck fUCK!! Virgy no no! Its me dammit!! Fuck FUCK FUCK!! No no NO! Virgy virgy virgy storm cloud creepy cryptid no no nnonononono look at me no no look at me cmon honey look at me not those at me. me me me me..” His voice continued, shaky and softening as the screams faded into heart wrenching sobs and high pitched hyperventilating gasps. Remus continued to speak, morning star thudding against carpet and a softer thud sounding.

“ Hey hey hey hey hey hey...hey hey hey I got you I got you I’m here im still here....i’m always here for ya honey...I got you now I got you see? Yeah yeah thats me....just focus on me....cmon cmon stormy cant pass out on me now...follow my breathing lets breathe together...in...out...in out...now....tell me five things you can see....cmon honey you got this just look up im here right here...”

The sight through the broken door haunted him, made his chest throb hard and bile burn his throat.

The bedroom before him was completely trashed. It was as if something feral and destructive had ripped it from its very foundation. Every piece of furniture, big or small, was broken and smashed apart, the anxious side’s bed and couch ripped into multiple pieces. Every shelf or flat surface had faced an even worse fate, thrown around and shattered into various pieces that had been strewn around the room along with glass fragments from anything unfortunate enough to have been made of glass. Papers and books were severed and torn apart viciously, and the wallpaper was slashed in huge wide cute, some of the slashes cutting deep into the wall underneath. And in the middle of the disaster was Remus and Anxiety. Long, protruding limb like dark shapes sprouted from the purple side’s back, twitching and trembling with adrenaline along with his heaving, hunched over shaking form. Remus was there in front of him, knelt down to the balled up figure and slowly but surely coaxing him up enough to pull him into his arms and rock him back and forth as he kept speaking to him. It took Wrath a few seconds of his vision adjusting to the room’s darkness to realize Remus had more cuts on him, and why.

Strings.

Millions of purple tinted, tautly pulled strings, like a tightly woven and intricate sickening spider web filled the room from top to bottom as if trying to shield the two in its depths. He could see parts of them hanging limp, likely from Remus forcing his way through to the other. He watched in a horrified shock as Anxiety’s body lurched and jerked with his piercing sobs, hand harshly digging into his scalp through his hood and shadowy claws threatening to rip said hood open. He could see many of the strings connected directly to various parts of his body and to the eight extra things on his back and it made him shudder. The room radiated a sort of fear and panic that was infectious, suffocating even. But he refused to leave the doorway and abandon the two there, in that too dense darkness.

He watched Remus manage to gather up the shorter side into his chest and rock him more, practically curling into a ball over him. He was still talking, his voice softening to the point he couldnt make it out anymore from the door. But he could see his expression. God his expression mightve been what pushed him past his bullshit accepting limit.

Remus’s face was grim, any traces of his grins and normal attitude gone. His eyes were glowing in a dark, dangerously violent fury but the way they stayed trained on Anxiety kept them, for the time being at least, soft and remorseful. There was so much pain there in that focused gaze, pain regret sorrow a disturbing amount of fear and understanding. His mouth moved with words not meant for Wrath to hear, soft gentle coos and reassurances too intimate to be heard by anyone else but the one trembling harshly in his strong arms. Brows furrowed and it made Wrath feel even colder to realize his hands, hands that were holding the other up and petting his hair through that black hood and rubbing between the spidery appendages, were trembling.

Remus was trembling.

After awhile the strings seem to fade away into nothing, those shadowy limbs following them scarily slow. Once that happened and the worst of the darkeness seemed to dissipate was when Wrath dared to take a few stiff steps into the room, debris crunching too loudly under his boots. He saw Remus stiffen and his eyes flicker up like a cornered, ready to attack animal before relaxing, glow never leaving.

“ W...wh..r...R-remus...”

“ Des...Dessy brat...h-hey spitfire do me a solid and go open my door ok? Dont worry itll lead to my bedroom...just...go open it for me...will you...?” Wrath’s voice failed him after that and he nodded, backing out of that suffocation and away into the brighter lit hall rushing from the room to push open the dark stained door further down. He turned around to go back, to try to help somehow...anyway he could, when he watched Remus instead picking his way out of the mess and into the hall, their leader cradled in his arms limply like a small sleeping child. Not a sound came from either of them as he stalked through the hall and into his room, a single nod dismissing Wrath before the door swung shut in front of him...

That was where he was drawing a line. Enough had been enough.

Wrath had sat back through many things, too many fucking things than he should have. He held back his doubts when Virgil and Roman had first started seeing each other when they were younger and dumber, had held himself and barely held Remus back from mauling the so called “good” creativity when things had gone awry and he had broken Virgil’s heart and left him in bitter, resentful pieces for them to pick up and help mend back together. He held back every time Thomas had, intentionally or unintentionally, slighted and undermined their jobs as a part of him, of their importance, of Virgil’s and Remus’s importance to him. He had sat back through the aftermath of ever fight with the “light” sides and with thomas, through every dismissal and banishment and arguement and accusation. He had helped and been there through countless sleepless nights and previous breakdowns and panic attacks between all four three of them, and he had been here, had been forced not to retaliate as per Virgil’s simple request.

“ Dont Des....dont go after them...Im forbidding it got it? Dont do it. it isnt going to be worth it...please...”

It had always been the please, soft and defeated that made him obey. Not the angry snaps and lashing out, not the cruel words and push and shove they all did for so long, but the plea in that word...the vulnerability it revealed.

He had sat through Deceit’s slow distancing from the rest of them...and his eventually leaving them for the light sides and the ensuing pain and breakdown that his leaving left behind.

It had splintered them, had struck both Virgil and Remus harder and more painfully than either side would verbally admit. Wrath had been forced to do nothing but helplessly watch it break them and break himself too, and try to clean up the aftermath best he could.

But this breakdown, seeing the side that had always stubbornly refused to buckle or back down reduced to a screaming sobbing wreck on the floor, seeing the other side he had always seen be nothing but strong and indifferent to everything thrown with a grin shaking in fear and softly pleading was too much.

He had stayed down, seething, resentment festering for years. too many years without an outlet.

He remembered the hand that had been held out to him all those years ago. Remembered coming along a little bit before Deceit ever did...and looking up from where he was angrily crying on the floor to see two figures before him. One was shorter, with two sets of brightly glowing purple and green eyes and a big black hoodie that was too big for him and messy hair that fell into his face. Behind him was someone much taller, with wild hair and a single streak of white in it, eyes feral and gleeful i a way that made him tense and made him mad through his tears. He was dressed extravagantly, like a prince or even a king grinning unnaturally wide. But his focus narrowed on the purple one, whose dark claw tipped hand stretched out in front of him in an offering. When Anger had put his head back in his knees to cry more he felt an arm drape over him. His head snapped up and he saw the princely one next to him with a softer expression, hand rubbing his back a little.

“ Hey....hey its ok Anger. Whatcha crying for? You did your job! Pretty damn well too! You were amazing the way you had Thomas screaming at that bully!” A clawed hand smacked him making him yelp and he looked in front of him to see Fear knelt in front of him with a look of understanding, a bitter smile on his face.

“ He’s right you know? You were only doing your job...you didnt realize how out of hand things would spiral and thats ok. How they reacted isnt your fault...”

They offered him a place to go, a place to thrive. Screw the others that refused to understand and stay with them. And Fear led them both deeper down the halls by the hand, making sure he didnt get lost

He was done standing down.

Someone needed to pay.

~ ~ ~

If he was honest, Wrath wasnt sure how long he sat outside the intrusive side’s shut door, sitting slumped against the opposing wall in a thick, deafening silence. It mustve been long enough for him to drift into an uneasy, restless sleep. His dreams filled up with memories of younger years, of pranks and scuffles and violent roughhousing the three of them got up to being on their own, of Remus making meals and running around frantic to keep both Anger and Fear from accidentally killing themselves or each other on something. Of Deceit hazily joining their trio, hesitant and quiet but able to snap back just as viciously and able to rough house back just as good as the rest of them after awhile. Of days filled with shrieks, squeals, bickering and shrilly laughter, of restless nights where they all broke into Remus’s room and dog piled on his bed to sleep. Of slowly growing up and watching Virgil come out of his quiet observance and transition from Fear to Anxiety and taking charge as a leader among them, of Remus stepping back and letting him with full confidence as his right hand and partner in crime in most cases. Of seeing Deceit come out of his terrified shell and blossom into a belovedly bitchy and...supposedly self assured side...of Virgil’s echoing screams that seem to reverberate through his very core...

He jolted awake at the sound of a door creaking, and sluggishly lifted his head to see a pair of familiar scuffled riding boots, laces fraying if you looked close enough. He lifted his gaze higher and soon locked onto tired green eyes that were dark and dull from exhaustion. Lifeless was a term he could describe those eyes with and that fact made him briefly queasy and cold. He looked tired, so very tired, and older. He was older than them both....but right now he looked much older than he was...There was a silence between them for a few moments that allowed Wrath to rouse himself up a little more.

“ Dessy....for all thats unholy...what’re you still doin out here dumbass? Did you stay there all night?”

‘Dessy’...‘ Des’ the nickname eased some of his shot nerves. Ever since they were kids they had joked that his name shouldve been “ Despair” instead of “ Daniel Williams” because of his very present pessimism and negative outlook. And soon it became so much more fitting that his nickname became “ Des” short for despair...or in Remus’s case “ Dessy” as he oh so enjoyed calling him. The annoying nickname was familiar though, and it helped him relax enough to speak. His voice was rough and awkwardly quiet in the small hallway, as if he’d been the one screaming.

“ I....wanted to make sure he’d be ok...” He trailed off, voice faltering with a clear shake. It sounded pathetic and weak to him.

But maybe, just this once pathetic and weak wasnt a bad thing. Because at the sound of his voice, and his dumb reason, Wrath saw some life flicker back into the older side’s eyes, some of their glow returning. Remus let out a tired, exasperated sigh and gave him a small sad smile, his expression softened into something sorrowful yet fond. That fondness, that softness sent warm tingling butterflies fluttering through his chest like it always did despite the grim circumstances. Remus let out a strained chuckle and shook his head, pulling his door shut with a quiet click.

“ He’s asleep now ya little Tasmanian devil...let him rest and we’ll check on him in a bit...now cmon, lets go make some breakfast and watch some movies or something....lets go up up.” With a grunt Des allowed himself to be heaved up by the armpits to his feet and didnt protest Remus wrapping an arm around him and guiding him down to the living room. He didnt want to see that pained exhaustion on his face...he needed to do something

and had a problem he was finally going to get rid of.

“ No Des you cant.”

There was that feeling as familiar to him as breathing bubbling in his chest, that hot smoldering feeling of anger or irritation igniting. It flushed out the cold he had been feeling in an unpleasant way but he ignored that part, pressing his palms flat on the table with a bit of force as he narrowed his orange eyes at the one across from him. He felt something like acid stinging his mouth and begging to be spilled free but he did as he usually did and grit his teeth to hold the worst of it at bay. Pushing it down. Holding back again.

“ Not again Remus. I refuse to just fucking sit back and do nothing again. They need to be taught a lesson! This is all their fault- all his fault--”

“ Even if it is so fucking what?! You blindly lashing out at them is only going to make things worse I can promise you that--”

“ Like hell it will!! They act like they can just walk all over us and treat us like fucking trash and cause things like last night and you think im lashing out blindly when--”

“ --When youre temper is as violent as a fucking feral mongoose--” “ Dont call me a fucking mongoose beetlejuice reject!!” “ Oh shut up and sit back down you twerp!!”

They went back and forth across the table, both their tempers and volumes raising as they fought. That bubbling feeling was twisting into a boiling, growing burning that began filling his chest and core. Why was Remus not agreeing with him for fucks sake--

His vision started tinging red.

“ Look brat you think I fucking like this?! You think im not pissed the fuck off?! Because I am! I’m beyond pissed off about this!! About the fact I know exact who and what caused Virgy’s breakdown and about the fact it happened at all!! I fucking get it!! But even I know you shouldnt just storm in there to take off trying to take off their fucking heads when youre too upset! Youre not thinking clearly enough for that kind of confrontation dammit im trying to protect you in this too!!” Remus’s words were loud, ruthless, and hard hitting. There were angry and forceful and made sense.

Plenty of sense.

And somehow that made him even angrier.

“ Oh? Ooooh! I get it, I fucking get it! Now that youve been sweetening up fucking logic youre suddenly the first to fucking defend them hurting our fucking best friend--”

“--oh for fucks sake bitch Logan has nothing to fucking do with this!! Im not fucking defending them either!! I swear to god im just trying to--” “ --to what huh?! Keep on his good side so you can get in his fucking pants?! Or so you can fucking push it aside and laugh about it later like one of them?!--” “ Goddammit you fucking stubborn brat you dont know what youre even talking about--” “ I dont know what im talking about?! I DONT KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT?!?!” His voice rose much louder, his own trembling distortion coming out and getting spat at the side who had helped fucking raise him like venom.

“ I dont know what im talking about?!! You mean like how I NEVER seem to know what the fuck im talking about?! Like how Virgil never knows what hes talking about or how you never seem to know what youre fucking talking about when your talking to them?! God now youre even starting to sound like those pretentious bastards!! Dont know what im talking about?! What part do I not know what im talking about Intrusive Thoughts?! huh??!!” His breath was coming out in ragged, squeaking pants as his eyes began to burn “Which fucking part do I not fucking know?! The part where ive had to sit back and bottle up my rage at being pushed aside and degraded and judged and dismissed or having to sit back for fucking years and watch you and virgil get hurt and hurt and ignored and dismissed and talked down and insulted and broken and having to swallow my protests of it?! Or of knowing last night fucking happened because Deceit decided to fully live up to his fucking name and abandoned us for those bastards and left us alone without a second thought and got away with it?! Or the fucking fact youre too busy trying to bone down logic to even fucking care--!!”

Smack!

It came so fast he hadnt had time to prepare for it before his head was snapped to the side and pain exploding in his face, on the cheek near the jaw in particular as he staggered to the ground a good foot and his eyes eerily slow dragged themselves from looking at the kitchen cabinets to Remus, who still had his fist outstretched near where it had collided with his face, his chest heaving almost like his own was, eyes wild and just as angry before a flash of realization went through them.

“ ....Des....fuck...i...you...” Nothing too coherent came babbling out Remus’s mouth, he was still way too hoped up on anger fueled adrenaline. His fist was starting to tremble and Wrath watched his pupils dilate a few times in his attempt to calm down.

And then there was something like an explosion as that burning feeling warped into a raging fire and Wrath let out a infuriated, inhuman shriek and lunged for Remus with a full intent to rip out his stupid fucking throat as his rage consumed him.

The two fighting sides went crashing into the living room loudly nearly knocking over the couch in their wake, both of them screaming and Wrath inhumanly screeching in an almost reptilian manner as he clawed and punched wherever he could reach. Remus wasnt just lying down and taking it either, yelling in loud angry spats of soon unraveling nonsense as he fought back mercilessly, throwing the other into walls, into furniture, throwing punches and kicks of his own. But nothing seemed to slow the orange side down and he struck back with slowly growing claws and fangs and something sharp growing out of his hair, angry tears burning his eyes and his voice too warbled and distorted to even be understood anymore, both their forms twitching and subtly shifting and glowing as they tried to rip each other to shreds, things fluid dripping and twisting lashing out from Remus’s back. Remus was stronger, he always had been, but Wrath had a seemingly endless stream of fury and adrenaline that kept him getting back up and charging in for more, the room being wrecked between them. Maybe things would have gone too far if it hadnt been brought to a hard, screeching halt.

By the time they could both blink they were ripped away from each other, both now uselessly struggling as they were entangled in roughly restraining strings that glowed a eye straining, furious purple color and seemed to tighten and wrap around them more the more they fought and struggled for freedom. Their indecipherable words and incoherent screams where just as ruthlessly cut short as strings wrapped warningly around their throats, not tight enough to actually choke or hurt them, but firm enough to be very present and felt, their voices being quite literally silenced the moment it touched looped once and touched the spot over their vocal cords. There was a horrifically tense silence as their mouths moved in spat insults and screams that never made a sound.

“......that....that is enough out of both of you.”

Virgil’s voice cut through the room like a cleaver, the tone dead, cold, and just as pissed off as they were. At first they couldnt see him, manic eyes darting around until Wrath saw the Duke’s eyes trained on top of the stairs near the hallway, pupils down to small pinpricks. When he glared over in that direction he fully understood and felt all that anger draining and quickly turning into a queasy, cold dread that made him want to cower.

That radiation of fury, or bone chilling fear and a kind of suffocating anxiety that made it hard to breathe and a panic that made them both feel like they were perpetually falling and simultaneously drowning swept over the living room like a flood, the corners and ceilings slowly developing intricate pulsing webs or strings that seem to absorb the rooms light as Virgil stepped, no, half crawled down the stairs and into view. Both sets of eyes were visibly, the whites dyed a void like inky black where his brightly burning purple and green irises cut into them coldly. Something sharp and gleaming poked from his scowl and revealed themselves as fangs as his snarl curled his lips. His hood was up hiding most of his pale skin but couldnt hide the flecks and scatterings of void like, inky and purple spots dusting parts of his slowly purple tinging skin. His hands, snapping out from his sleeves to grip the stair railing were fully blotched in that void, fingers curling into razor sharp claws that strings hung stickily too. The eight dark appendages, opaque and gangly half carried him down faster than usual, the ends digging into the carpet as if for stability. A shrill hiss whistled through Anxiety’s teeth and the panic inducing feeling of being stared at at being excruciatingly examined came from every corner, growing worse and worse as he stalked closer with silent movements.

“ What....the actual fuck are you two doing.” The words with sharp edged and cold, tone flat and tired. They both just stared helplessly, unable to move or speak and both beginning to mindlessly panic. Virgil blinked and a gust of air like an exhale swepted through the room and....left no traces of those fearful horrified feelings in its wake. Both of their feet thudded mutedly against the carpeted floor as the strings released them and retreated back into nothing, disappearing from all around them as if they had never been there to begin with...the room never dimmer than it had started in the morning light and the three of them stood there in silence. Any hints of inhumanity were gone from Anxiety’s form, leaving his two still glowing eyes losing their luster and leaving dull annoyance behind, no fangs, no extra limbs, no claws, no void dotting his skin. When he spoke he took a slow breath, as if unable to breathe just like them.

“....I...I mean it you two...what. the actual fuck did you two wake me up with.” Even his voice had returned to normal, if not for a bit shaky and hoarse from last nights screaming. Wrath saw his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was tinged with blotchy pink and was puffy from crying and something clenched in his chest, thudding hard. He looked at Remus, who was panting from lack of breath, eyes dull and exhausted and pain filled again, injuries from their fight blaring from the blood decorating his body and clothes.

He had done that....he’d lost control again...

“ Im dont want to repeat myself a third fucking time. What the fuck did you--”

“ I...This is my fault I started it...” Both of them looked at him, gazes drilling into him. But he let his head drop as shame took over, choking him a little. This was his family and they were already hurting and look what he’d done-

“Oh piss off Dessperato. It aint only your fault I fucked up too. Look virgy we were both tired and coming off that dumb worry adrenaline shit and we started arguing...and we got waaaaaay too heated and decided to beat the living shit out of each other...sorry we woke you you were suppose to sleep later.” Virgil let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, pulling off his hood and shaking out his messy bedhead.

“ Is that all that happened? Im not deaf and the doors arent sound blockers...” “ Then why are you asking.” Virgil and Remus as a bit of a stare off before finally, for the first time that morning all the life slowly returned to his eyes and he gave a toothy, blood streaked grin and started to laugh. The other two looked at him like he had fully lost it. Then Virgil’s lips twitched up and Des rolled his eyes and failed to stop the grin spreading across his face or the chuckles that he managed to choke out. Within a few minutes all three of them were laughing on the messy living room floor half sprawled over each other and Jealously bemusedly deciding they werent capable of making breakfast and making it for them all instead. Des watched half delerious from his exhaustion as Remus cackled and kicked his leg, just to laugh more when he kicked back.

“ I swear to god no more violence out of you two or I swear I’ll...” Remus let out a snort and gripped the other’s chin between his fingers sensually tugging their faces closer with a smug grin

“ You’ll what Hot Topic? Lock me in the closet again? Or send me reeling with nightmares and hallucinations~ Oh please virgy baby I dare you too~” His tone was light and suggestive, quirking his eyebrows up teasingly for added effect. Virgil snorted and and grinned back leaning close as well.

“ Oh dont start teeempting me with those sweet talkins about hallucinations dr. Hideous~ I might just take you up on that...” Then he flicked his nose and shove him away, both of them laughing. Des was about to try to give them the time to themselves when Remus yanked him between them waggling his finger disapprovingly, making him whack the other’s shoulder with a affectionate “ fuck RIGHT off” and for awhile, in that growing morning light, things felt ok.

It had taken alot of talking, and another arguement almost breaking out between himself and virgil to convince him to back down from confronting the light sides violently. Virgil brought a surprising amount of identical points to remus, while also reminding him that reacting to violently will only make them ignore and dismiss him further. Des was very reluctant, and stubborn, but ultimately he trusted Virgil’s and Remus’s judgement. He trusted Virgil’s reasoning and that he was looking out for him- protecting him. So when he asked him, softly, to refrain from trying to handle it on my own and let him deal with it Des had agreed, obeying his request.

And then a real tipping point pushed him back over the edge.

It was a few weeks later. He remembered distinctly because the mindscape was abuzz with excitement, even the dark sides were effected by Thomas’s unbridled joy. But Virgil had said he was getting a bad feeling...and headed off to the main part of the mindscape that morning. Things were quiet after, calm even. At some point him and Remus had started playing cards, though Remus was blatantly cheating and they were bickering.

Things were fine...things were calm...

Then Virgil crashing into the living room breathing harshly and in the midst of a bad panic attack.

They both jumped up and Remus caught the other in his arms, trying to calm him down and figure out what happened. It took a long time and for awhile they only got bits and pieces out

Thomas

A callback, a big important one he and Roman were thrilled for

Patton, something with both Patton and Deceit

Neither of them agreeing but both of them fighting Virgil

some kind of important friend event on the same day

they had argued, they had fought, there had been yelling by the climax of it

Him and Roman went at each others throat despite the fact he had been trying to help roman’s cause

Deceit fought him alot too, trying to cut him off at every chance in a form of fear response, out of defense

Him and patton argued and fought badly for the first time since Thomas’s last breakup

He thought logan would try to see his side and be a neutral party

Logan was getting tug of warred into agreeing to arguments to push him out

They kept trying to shut him down and dismiss him, they stopped listening fairly

Virgil had to pull out a form shift in front of thomas

He had to use his influences and fear to get them to stop talking over him and twisting his words

it only made things worse, and arguments harsher

They rejected him and his attempts to help more

He started having a panic attack mid argument

He thought logan and patton tried to help but they were getting drowned out by Roman and Dee

There was so much yelling, things that should never be said got thrown

They told Virgil he never does anything but make Thomas worse

Thomas finally nearly screamed for them all to stop and half asked half pleaded for Virgil to just leave until everyone calmed down

He lashed out and hit someone, he wasnt even sure who before he fled, not hearing them yell after him. It mightve been patton, or thomas, or maybe logan

And then his panic attack got worse and neither of them could get another understandable word from him.

In the end Remus eventually got him called down, after a good couple hours of trying, and it took everything in Wrath not to scream and destroy the room.

All Virgil did was try to help, and look what their....their bullshit left him. He was beyond seething at this point, he was fuming he was downright practically breathing fire and shaking from the effort to keep himself still. Remus gave him a cautious warning look, as if he was sizing up one of his many monsters in the imagination and debating if it would kill him or not and Virgil lifted his head to choke out for him to stand down, and to not do anything. Wrath had nodded silently and waited, watching Remus help him upstairs to his room to grab his headphones, and hopefully calm down more. Once they were out of sight he made a decision. He knew the consequences of it, knew theyd both be furious and Virgil would make hell for him for it. But none of that mattered to him

For the first time in many many years...he disobeyed Anxiety’s direct request.

It took a few days to find an opening, but once he saw one he took it, rising up in the big main living room, unknowingly in the middle of a video brainstorm.

Wrath always seemed to appear near the couch, between Roman and Thomas. Just seeing them made his blood boil more than it had been.

It was easy to say he scared the shit out of most of them by just appearing, his entire presence sucking the air from the room and making it hot and tense, a cracked dam waiting to break. Itd been months since he’d seen them face to face, and for a moment his senses got overwhelmed by everything.

But he let that fuel his anger further and he growled for them to fess up. Which one had said it. Roman had of course jumped to the defensive of his friends and that was all Wrath needed.

He lost it, pointing and yelling and accusing Roman. Blaming him for it. Roman didnt back down and fought back, and the fight only seemed to worsen. The others tried to interject, and maybe if Wrath’s vision hadnt been blood red from his fury he wouldve seen they were trying to diffuse the situation and calm things down, talk things out. But he ignored that, whipping around and lashing out at them too

“ Wrath you need to step back and take a deep breath! Youre getting irrational!”

“ Wrath kiddo please we dont have to yell and scream about this Logan’s right lets all take a deep breath ok?”

“ Like hell! Im not going to just let him force his way in here and yell and scream and pretend its ok and we can talk!”

“ Roman please!” “ro stop getting angry back is just making all of it worse the others are right we need to be calm or we’ll never get through to him.”

That voice. Silken and soaked with caution. He whirled around on Deceit and snarled pinning him to the wall without thinking.

“ This is all your fucking fault! Youre the reason they keeping hurting and virgil has breakdowns that put him out of commission for days!! Youre part of the reason Remus locks himself away beating himself up. they trusted you!! We all trusted you and you decided to fuck us over and throw us out like trash!! Was it worth it?!?! Was being here worth breaking the people you grew up with you and loved you?! Well?!” There was yelling around them, and he thought briefly he heard Remus’s and Virgil’s voices behind him as well. But now all that anger, that pushed down bitterness and resentment finally had a target and he couldnt focus on anything else. He didnt even heard Deceits struggling answer as he tried to claw him off, his different eyes wide and his mouth moving in words that werent registering.

“ -youre right ok?! Fuck youre not right at all--fuck fuck I get it youre angry and I fucked up with this, this isnt my fault and I havent been trying to figure out ways to fix it! I totally havent been beating myself up for what happened a few days ago with virgil and I dont regret it ok--” THe words blended together in his head, there were hands on his shoulders ripping him away the the freaked out snake and shoving him into the couch. He snarled but froze when he realized He was staring at the very formal business end of Remus’s morning star, inched from his nose and Remus standing over him with a dark look over his face...dark and upset The red faded from his vision and he blinked rapidly, eyes burning again and jaw aching from how hard he’d been clenching it or from yelling he honestly couldnt even tell anymore. From behind Remus stood both Logan and Virgil, side by side speaking in rapid low voices he couldnt decipher. Behind them he caught of glimpse of Roman and Patton both kneeling on the floor, fretting over a still freaked out Deceit as Jealously offered to help him up. Wrath was struggling to breathe, his body twitching and shaky from the quickly fading adrenaline. Soon he was left feeling cold and sick of himself, staring at Remus with just as wide and wild eyes.

“ Easy....easy spitfire....youre...just breathe for me ok?” He couldnt even nod, he couldnt move. He vageuely noticed Virgil and Logan both looking at him before the morning star was gone and Logan was in front of him, hands palm up in a non-threatening manner.

“ Wrath can you hear me? Good...just listen to my voice...I need you to name me five things you can see.” He blinked rapidly and barely heard Remus’s and Virgil’s murmurs of reassurance. Or maybe Virgil’s was more quiet talking, as he was standing at Patton’ side like the normally bubbly side’s shadow.

“u...uuh....y..youre tie...r-remus’s outfit....the stairs...the others...and the Roman’s s-sword...” Logan gave a nod, slowly kneeling in front of him with a calm, leveled expression that helped him focus more.

“ Good, now four things you can touch. Take your time Wrath.” He flexed his fingers, more of a twitch really as his breathing began to even out slowly. “ Um...My jacket...the couch...my jeans...uh...t..the carpet?” He nodded again through his faltered stammering as the deepness faded.

“ Three things you can hear?” He blinked again and listened for a moment.

“ .....your voice...Remus’s voice...the others...” “ Two things you can smell, remember take your time.” “ Bacon...from breakfast...and someones cologne..” A small smile came to his face as he adjusted his glasses in slow noticeable motions.

“ Just just 1 thing you can taste.” He managed to smack his lips once and his face screwed up at the taste lingering in his mouth.

“ ....acidic bile...” Both their brows furrowed a little but when Logan looked over his shoulder Remus shrugged at the silent question.

“Probably needs to puke Dr. Maywhoo.” Logan sighed at the nickname and turned back to him, holding up his hands a little.

“ Now, Wrath Id life for you to unclench your jaw, roll and relax your shoulders, loosen your posture if you can, uncurl your fingers and exhale please.” He blinked and slowly did as instructed, not realizing until then that he was wound up like a jack in the box. His jaw ached as he unclenched it and his shoulders slumped heavily as he relaxed, fingers sore from apparently being curled into firsts for so long, small red lines in his palms from his nails. He felt calmer, drained and upset, but calm.

“ Logan, Remus.” He looked past them to see virgil standing up tall, if not awkwardly, besides Roman and watching them with a hard to read look.

“ I...think sitting down and calmly talking...is now long overdue.”

~~~~~

Hours later Wrath Des found himself on the mindscapes main couch tiredly nestled besides a dozed off Jealousy Jacob and a cheerfully talking Patton. They had spent hours haphazardly strewn around the very room, just...talking and discussing and airing years worth of grievences. It wasnt easy, and things were no where near fixed or completely repaired. But, there were many small positive steps taken in that direction...and things were lighter and better as they stood at a better understanding of each other. Things werent perfect, and in the back of his mind he could list everything that could fuck up and send them back spiraling. Yet he didnt want to ruin what...whatever it was happening as dinner was cooked. Logan, Remus, and Virgil all sat together on the other side of the couch chatting among themselves and with Patton as they tried to decide on a movie and played candyland. In the kitchen he could hear Roman and Deceit cooking and giggling with each other, trying to outdo each other with some dumb food based pick up lines. But they sounded happy, so many it wasnt that dumb...Des watched them play candyland, staying relatively quiet aside from answering questions and jabs sent his way. It was comfortable and relaxed, and Des couldnt help but yawn. Without noticing , he ended up resting his head on Patton’s clearly unoccupied and underutilized shoulder as his eyes drooped shut. He felt Patton jump a little before slowly relaxing, and he didnt even need to open his eyes to flip Remus off as he let out an overly exaggerated coo at the motion letting himself relax. Patton smelled good he decided. Like fabric softener and baked goods and some kind of spice...Des also decided that the blurry sight of the trio next to them, with Remus’s legs draped across Logan and Virgil’s laps and one hand playing with Virgils messy hair as he sat on Logan’s right and Virgil contently and fully relaxed into Logan’s left side, head resting in the crook of his neck and his hand laced with the logical side’s unused hand as they played was also good. The sound of Jacobs soft snores was soothing and the joyful flirty voices in the kitchen blended into it well when combined with Pattons soft humming. If this was how things would be more often....he’d learn to add a little more patience to his supply of the stuff....

And maybe for once he didnt have to be negative, with no more tension for now to be broken.

The end.

Ok holy shit its finally finished!! This was over 7k goddamn words of emotion and holy shit was it a rollercoaster to write

THis is what happened when I wake up before 5 in the morning after not being able to sleep much...I apparently bust out 15 whole pages worth of words

Now....to go do my chores real quick and go pass the fuck out for an hour or two of sleep

I hope you guys liked it!!!

taglist

@phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @leesacrakon @amazable01 @strawberryjellystuff @heyhelloitsk @jemthebookworm @max-is-tired @seriously-a-dragon @sar-kasstic @soupspam @riarities @yalltookmyurlideas @unsocialchapeau @hyperions-stallion @aqua-mazing @pancakewithamace @dee-ree-vee @sensibleghost @ro-roowo @baby-duck-boy @wack-ismygender

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Stolen - 9

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: Angst. Feels. Plot. References to other MCU events. A/N: Thanks for reblogs, comments, and likes <3 It has honestly made me get through these last two days. If you want on the taglist, just send an ask or reblog.

9. Irresponsible Hate Anthem

… Reader …

At least Loki has allowed you to sit down, and good thing too considering that today is the most you’ve done since pushing yourself and your limits by healing the priestess. He has also brought you something to drink and some grape-like fruits. All in all: he is procrastinating and it’s making you awfully nervous.

“Loki.” The god scurries off to fetch you a blanket. “Loki!” you call after him. “Just get your ass back here and start talking!”

Whirling towards you, his jaw clenches and eyes darken with fury...but he stops himself and does as asked. “This is the last time I will allow such insubordination, mortal.”

“Fine.” Ramping up the sarcasm, you clasp your hands and plead, “Oh, mighty Loki. Bestow your wisdom upon me!”

Silence stretches. If he hadn’t been completely stone faced then you might have feared you’d gone too far. As it is, however, the Asgardian simply sighs. He and the others...they should be immortal but he looks old now. A smidgen of discomfort wiggles into your chest, sending tendrils out to legs and arms with the urge to fidget, to tap an unsteady rhythm with a foot, anything to ease the tension you are feeling. At the same time, a self-empowering annoyance is nudging your mind from the other side in an attempt to point out the next issue. I should not feel sorry. He’s a bad guy.

“There are influencing factors to the events that have led to this point.” Loki speaks softly despite a strain to his voice that tells you he is holding back. “In a manner, of all this started many thousand years ago by your time...but what is of relevance to you is the understanding of why your realm was beset by the Chitauri under my command. Who I served by doing as I did.”

“It...it wasn’t your decision?” The wine in your glass is sloshing subtly so you set it down with a clatter.

The green gaze wanders from hands to face, wordlessly binding you to anything he is about to say. “I did not propose it...but I did not oppose it.” Sighing again, he shrugs. “Explaining why will take more time than we have available. Suffice to say that I found myself in the questionable service of a being, an entity, called Thanos. The Mad Titan, is another of his monikers...and quite descriptive too.”

“Titan? Like...Greek myth titan?”

“...no. I would almost suppose the Midgardian titans of old would be preferable. Thanos is powerful in more ways than you can imagine and my fear is that his plan is much worse than even I suspect. Wherever he goes, only half of the population survives to struggle through a ravaged realm, slowly dying from the blows he has dealt them.”

Liar! “But Earth survived! You didn’t even kill half of New York, and now you want to tell me there’s a dude that could end half a planet worth of people? Pfft!”

Loki’s cold hands wrap around your fingers. “Don’t be foolish. Conquering Mi- Earth was not his main objective but a bit of fun to test the strength of the forces, the defences.” Hesitating, he focuses briefly on the way he has grasped your hands. “What Thanos wanted – and still wants – from your realm is an object with immense power. That object, the Tessaract, is one of six and all together they will make him unstoppable.”

“The Avengers stopped you...him,” you try slowly, “they’d caught you. So...you didn’t get that...Tessa-thing to him. Right?”

“No, Thanos does not have the Tessaract,” he agrees before meeting your gaze again, “but he will try again. And he will have me hunted down for leaving his side...for failing him.”

There was a time, when someone claiming the epitome of evil from space would arrive to ransack the Earth they would be considered clinically insane. The problem is that every human watched the news footage from New York and saw the aliens pour out of the sky to follow Loki. Can there be someone worse than him? It stings to admit it, but you don’t doubt for a second it’s possible.

Looking to the god, you fight to keep the fear at bay. “We gotta warn them!”

“They have been and they are preparing.” He still holds your hands, grounding you in an inexplicable way. “After having fought the Chitauri, the heroes of Earth know what’s at stake.”

It’s all too much – worn out from the walking, dazed by the information, and frustrated with the situation you’re in – you slump into the seat in silent despair. “Then...but...nowhere’s safe?”

He draws you in by wrapping an arm around you and you don’t even care to bother about it. Of the two evils seemingly available, Loki is by far the lesser if he is telling the truth.

“One. One place might be safe for you although...it’s a long shot,” the god mutters into your hair.

... Loki ...

Night has fallen, enveloping the temple in velvety silence. Watching from the balcony, Loki sees the lights of the guards’ lanterns follow the same predictable pattern as always and he knows that for the moment, his frail mortal will be safe, so he retreats to the shadows of one of their rooms to use the Tessaract once again.

When the blue haze releases him, it’s into a cold world under the grey light of dawn. Crystalline particles are shoved around by gusts of wind, worn from the rock and ice that covers the ground as far as his eyes can see. Admittedly, the view is rather impeded by craggy cliffs to three sides and crumbling ruins to the other, but the Jotun knows what awaits him past the remnants of the civilization that dwelt here. My people. Scoffing at the thought, he stalks towards the open.

Between the castle ruins and the very precipice of a deep canyon stands a circle of Alfheim’s druids hand in hand along the precarious edge. Where Loki’s hair is whipping around his face, his cloak tangling in itself and his limbs, the Älfir seem untouched by the raging of the cold elements. At least none of us are freezing, a thought jeers in his mind.

Only as Loki comes to stand behind them can he hear the song. It’s almost as though he can see the words through the corner of his eye like a shimmer dropping into the darkness below but there is nothing to see when he focuses: no sign of the magic...and no indication that the efforts are working.

Crouching, fingers digging into the icy snow, a part of the god seeks to tether itself with the realm he came from. He can feel it. Or rather, he can’t. The frozen core should echo the songs of the Jötun of forgotten ages, reduced to a whisper before he himself silenced them forever. There is nothing. For a week now, the Älfir have done as promised and poured their living magic into the deadly wound Jotunheim suffered yet despite the constants efforts nothing has changed.

It is a lost cause. Loki knew from the beginning this was a possibility. Not all damage can be undone. Not all wounds heal.

This was never my home! Then how come an icy splinter which has been gnawing at his heart now grows and digs its own canyons until, with a painful snap, something breaks? Screaming out his rage, the agonized howl is swallowed by the wind, echoed by the haunting echoes from the depths below.

... Reader ...

You’re not sure what has woken you up. Lying perfectly quiet, the song of nightingale – maybe, you don’t really know what sort of bird it is – floats in through the open window and almost lulls you to sleep again.

Wait...there it is, the sound that doesn’t belong. Sitting up, it takes a moment before you figure out which direction the staccato creaks and huffs come from and you’re in two minds about what to do when you recognize the universal sound of a sob that someone attempts to stifle.

Loki?

There’s no doubt it’s him. He’ll kill me, if he realizes I’ve heard this.

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flatstarcarcosa · 4 years

Text

they say it’s good to start the story with a tragedy

Summary: Three months ago, Slade died. Four days ago, be barged back into the house like a whirlwind, and for a moment all was right with the world. Reese has discovered strangers can wear familiar faces, and to top it off: There is another Slade greeting them over morning coffee and acting as if nothing is wrong.

How can there be two Slades, and what do either of them want?

(part one) (part two)

Ship: wilson&wilson Warnings: violence, swearing, slight depictions of gore? there’s a big fight is all im sayin. slade kicks his own ass, finally, his life long dream. sidenote: i decided to structure this piece similar to the comic. there’s titles between switches scenes, and the timeline isn’t entirely linear. i think it’s still simple enough to follow, but it was a neat exercise.

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

Reese is no stranger to pain. They've suffered with chronic pain for over a decade. They've been through countless invasive medical tests, they've had surgery. They are also no stranger to blood and wounds. Slade's healing factor may make him durable, but it doesn't mean he heals instantly. They've seen more than enough different stab wounds and gunshot trauma, and even the remains of grenades going off too close to him when he's come home.

Logic would dictate this would be no different.

It's pain, and it's blood, and it's their pain and their blood, and it shouldn't be anything new and concerning. Then again, Reese has never been gut shot before.

'Honey I'm Home'

Several Hours Earlier

Slade is looking at them from a clean shaven face with two eyes, and wearing a pair of soft blue scrubs. It's been a couple of minutes since he spoke, and Reese still has no idea how to answer what should have been an incredibly simple question.

“What's wrong?” he asks again, pushing the chair back as he stands. “I know I've been—“ “Dead?” they interject. “Yeah, a little.” Their stomach feels like it's in their throat, and they're not sure if they're gonna throw up or pass out. They look up at him, gaze fixated on his right eye. “Your eye...”

Slade blinks.

“Oh,” he says, reaching up and popping the eyeball out of the socket. He bounces it in the palm of his hand. “Prosthetic.”

Reese says nothing, and he frowns.

“You still didn't answer me,” he says, taking a step closer. “What's wrong?” “I could think of a few things,” says a familiar voice from the doorway.

Slade-- the other Slade, that is; the one that stormed into the too empty house like a whirlwind and demanded answers or blood, is leaning against the wall with a wide, wicked grin on his face. There's a knife in his hand a gun on his hip and he stares at his other self, the original, the one that belongs with annoyance. “I was wondering when you were finally gonna show up,” he says. “It was bugging me, trying to figure out what it would take to get your attention. I shot your man Hosun, left Rose in a dumpster, paid a visit to Adeline...haven't found Joesph yet, but considering he was always the weak one, that's not surprising. Then I realized, if this is some mirror of my-- our-- life, well...that left one stone unturned.” Reese takes a few steps back, reflexively putting themself behind the familiar comfort of their Slade. He shifts to make sure they're shielded, and reaches for another coffee cup. “Yeah,” he says, filling it. “I figured. I heard about what you've done in New York and I'm not happy about it. I'm less happy about what you've done to Adeline. Barry and I weren't friends, but he was a good man, and he didn't deserve that.”

“Sometimes when you wanna make an omelet, you crack a few eggs.” The other Slade shrugs as he speaks. If there's any awareness of how ridiculous he sounds, he doesn't seem to care. Regardless, he accepts his alters offer of coffee, slipping his fingers around the handle and taking a sip. “I don't know what you're doing here,” Slade says, “but why don't we talk about it? Maybe we can come to some agreement. You clearly want something, what is it?”

“I want what's mine,” he says, glaring. He takes another sip of coffee and then sets the mug down, hard. Reese's breath hitches and their Slade reaches out behind him, brushing his fingers against theirs. “Which is?” he asks, setting down his own mug. “What I'm owed,” says his alter. He catches the movement, eye flicking to Reese and back, and sneers. Just like that, the kitchen explodes in a flurry of movement. Reese's Slade puts a hand to their chest and shoves them back hard enough for them to go tumbling to the tile floor. They grunt and look up, blinking. Slade kicks the kitchen table over and ducks behind it, and the sound of a knife thunking into it echoes. The other Slade pulls a lighter from his pocket, and flicking it open causes that solid, black armor to creep across him. Reese sucks in a breath as he draws his sword, realizing suddenly that their Slade has no armor. He's not wearing his Ikon suit under those scrubs, they can tell by the exposed skin of his arms. He's unarmed, and unarmored.

His duplicate is not. “Slade,” they say. He doesn't turn to face them as he stands, shoving the table across the room. His duplicate gets buffeted with it, but not for long enough. He kicks it aside, wood splintering and cracking as it hits the wall, and has just enough time to deflect the kitchen knives thrown in his direction. “This will not end in your favor,” he says, voice loud and tinny from the speaker on his helmet. “Nothing ever works out for us, you know that as much as I do.” “Go,” Slade says to Reese. He backs them both towards the back door and hits the metal panel on the wall. It beeps once, and a green light cycles on above it, signaling that it's unlocked the door to the armory hidden in the tool shed outside. Reese falters for a moment, only a moment, and slips wordlessly through the door without a second glance. The sound of the hydraulics slamming the armory door shut is loud enough to trigger the beginnings of a stress headache. It's quickly being made worse by the fluorescent lighting above, and Reese takes a second to rub the palms of their hands against their eyes. They ignore the wetness they feel as they pull them away, wiping their hands on their pants.

“Identification required,” says a monotonous voice from an overhead speaker. Reese clears their throat and slaps their now-dry palm against the wall panel. “Reese Aaron Wilson,” they say, slowly and clearly. “Security code override Jericho, priority access Grant requested.” “Processing,” says the computer. A simple ding, and the inside door opening is the only assurance they have that Slade's security system hasn't decided to fill the armory with a toxic gas and choke them to death. For now, anyway.

“Finnicky as he is,” they mumble. They lean against the table in the center of the room and take stock of, well, the stock. They know Slade intended for them to hide out in here, and wait out whatever he and his seemingly delusional doppelganger are doing, but they're still stuck on the fact that only one of the Slade's is armed and armored, and that it's the wrong fucking one. How did I miss it, they think, pulling open an old and faded green crate that still faintly has the words UNITED STATES ARMY painted on the side. How did I not...see that there was something not right with him. “Fucking idiot,” they hiss.

#self shipping #self shipping community #selfshipping #ship: wilson & wilson at large #reese.fic #the trouble with doubles

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missbeautyandherbeast · 5 years

Text

Archangels and Mutants Pt 2

Raphael x Nephilim!Reader

Summary: Your horizon of what was out there spread a bit more with each encounter with Raphael. You were flattered that he wanted to help you, but you didn’t need to be protected and you most certainly did not need to be told what to do.

A/N: Just these kids back at it. My angel knowledge is vast so welcome to that. I love your feedback so far. :)

Part 1

Warnings: AnGsT

@im-a-loser-for-tmnt-deactivated

Walking home from one of my night classes, I caught a glimpse of a shadow following me. I debated whether or not I should take off or not. It was a nice thing about being a Nephilim, I could take off whenever I wanted to, and being cramped up in the city for college had left my wings with something to be desired. I was planning on taking off the weekend to head up the mountains so that I could stretch them, but it was Tuesday, which is slightly more depressing than Mondays.

I kept walking, however, turning off my music but keeping my headphones in. I could hear my surroundings, but they didn’t know I could. The shadow still followed me, never gaining ground to get to me, always on the rooftops. I was tempted to look up, but I knew if I did, I would scare my stalker.

Instead, I called April.

“Hey,” She answered sounding distracted. “What’s up?”

“I think there’s something stuck to my shoe.” I doubted that she would recognize the phrase, but I was proven wrong.

“Is there anywhere you can go that they won’t follow.”

“I just got out of class and I think I picked it up there. I don’t want to track it across the carpet in my apartment.” I chose my words carefully, knowing that I was being watched.

April didn’t answer for a moment, and I could hear a few voices on the other end arguing with each other before I got an annoyed April back on the phone.

“Where are you?” A different voice spoke on the phone, gruffer, familiar.

“I’m fine Raphael,” I said calmly.

“Bullshit. Where are you? I will have Donnie track your phone.” He threatened.

“I’ll ditch it.” I snapped back. “I’m not a child. I can handle myself.”

“You don’t know what’s out there, Y/n.” His voice angry but I could hear the fear underneath.

I scoffed and gave in.

“Sullivan. By the park.” I bit my lip and kept walking.

“Stay in the park.” He ordered.

I rolled my eyes and hung up, making my way to the edge of the fountain and sitting on the edge, stretching my wings into the fountain, still keeping them camouflage. What you would consider the equivalent of stretching your legs out after a long car ride. Harmlessly scanning the skyline, I didn’t see my aggressor, but I knew he was there, I could feel the malicious intent in his mind.

I turned my music back on and got lost in the rhythm and melodies. It stayed like that for a song or two until I got a text from April.

A: I see you, you’re safe

Y/n: I don’t want to lead them back to my place. They’re still here. And did you steal April’s phone?

A: How do you know? And that’s beside the point

Y/n: I just do.

A: That’s helpful

I could almost hear the sarcasm. I smiled at the text. I swept the skyline again, and something changed I could see Raphael’s silhouette in the distance. Frowning, I saw two silhouettes on the same roof with him... and that was all that I was able to make out. I didn’t know if there were more.

Y/n: You have company...

I hopped off of my perch of the fountain and casually made my way to the building that he was atop of.

A: What are you doing!?

Y/n: Saving your ass. Again.

I pocketed my phone and scaled the building easy with the help of my wings. And just in time too.

“Raphael!” I shouted and materialized a golden dagger that I threw out towards a looming shadowy figure.

I hated using force, but I had to. The turtle stared at me in awe for a moment before recovering and dropping into a battle stance, matching Sai’s in his hands, a wicked smile on his face as he turned to our adversary.

The back clad soldiers held no importance to me. I didn’t know who they were, why they wanted me, nor why they followed me. Raphael barely let me do anything, more protecting me than fighting along-side of me, which got on my nerves a bit. I was just as capable of fighting as he was, I just didn’t like to do it. I was a healer.

I was shocked to see the men in black turn out to be nothing but metal and wires; they had emotions, feelings that I could track, ones of malicious intent, but still emotion. Struggling to figure out what they were, I missed something that Raphael said until he shook my shoulder and asked again, drawing me from my thoughts.

“Are you okay?” He asked sounding slightly annoyed.

“Yeah, thanks.” I gave a tight smile. “What about you?”

He chuckled. “I don’t need any of your mojo if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Fair enough.” A grin stretched across my face.

“No offense, but what the hell are you?” He looked me up and down.

I could understand his confusion. He saw my vessel: taller for most my age, in a weird balance of not being overweight, yet never a hope of being a size two cheerleader, short cropped hair, big y/e/c round eyes, and what I guess by the number of advances I got from girls and guys alike, a pretty face. I could change my vessel looks at will, but I was comfortable with who I was now.

But he had also seen the part of me that wasn’t my vessel. My healing ability, and a very a tiny amount of my fighting power.

“Nephilim,” I supplied. “My mother father is human, my mother, an archangel.”

He stared at me, wide-eyed and I grinned.

“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” I drawled.

He recovered soon after that and rolled his eyes.

“Pfft. No.”

“Mhmm.” I wasn’t convinced, cracking a smile. “Thank you,” I glanced to the downed

robots behind us. “What are they?” I was fascinated as much as I was terrified. “The kraang.” He spat out venomously. “I can’t imagine why they were after you though...” He searched for an explanation that wasn’t there.

“Maybe they know...” I offered. His eyes flashed to mine. “That I’m...”

He gave one nod.

“You need to talk to the guys and Splinter. This could be something completely new. Something we need to see coming.” His tone had changed from teasing, to angry, to strategizing.

“I have to go home.” I cut in.

“No. You’re not staying out here alone.” He shot back.

“I am capable of handling myself.” I sneered. “I don’t need your protection.”

“You don’t know anything.” He spat as we glared at each other. “You’ll get killed.”

I snorted. “I highly doubt that.” I reminded him who and what I was with a golden flash of my eyes.

He growled at me, stalking up to me, but I wasn’t afraid, instead, I was just as ready for a fight as he was.

“You think you can take me, little girl?” He snarked.

“Any day. Pet.” This time I did unfurl my wings, letting them stretch fully, spanning fifteen feet on either side of me, glowing a faint gold, to match my eyes. “Come at me.” I threatened.

I could see the indecision in his eyes as he took a half step back, still growling slightly. He seemed less hostile than before, less anxious to fight. But I knew that was my doing. Just as I could feel the emotions of others, I could influence them. An Empath is the word the humans had come up with.

“Whatever.” He snapped. “Do what you want, I’m outta here.” Turning, the turtle disappeared into the night, along the rooftops of the city.

#tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raph 2016 #tmnt raph #raph x reader #raphael x reader #raphael hamato #raphael 2016 x reader #archangel #nephilim

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victorianoir · 4 years

Text

The Detective and the ManFatale, Part 4

Onward!!!! Part 4!!! The end of the ManFatale arc!!!! If you’re like “WTF is this?” you can read all of it by going to my MASTERPOST for The Detective and the Tech Guy. If you want to read this chapter on fanfiction.net, you can do that by clicking >THIS<.

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd just had to steal a parking spot from a little old lady who was just barely able to see over her steering wheel, and he felt bad about that, he really did. But it meant he was able to catch up to Sarah fast enough to be able to see her enter the office building she'd told him about earlier.

Just like she'd said, the building was off of Melrose, in SoHo. But he didn't follow her inside. Instead, he moved behind a short palm that was planted in a courtyard off to the side, complete with benches and planters. He leaned against the trunk of it and stared at the entrance.

He was old hat at this now, after a few days of tailing that asshole Fake Cartwright. Robbie. Pfft.

Maybe tailing his girlfriend while she was working wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever done in their relationship, granted. And she would probably be so mad at him if she knew he'd gotten in his car and followed her as best he could without getting too close, knowing she was way too smart to let herself be followed as closely as he wanted to. He'd nearly lost her a few times even, but he'd gotten back on track eventually, not wanting to be directly in her line of sight because she was a damn detective and she knew what his damn car looked like.

But it scared him to death hearing her yell, the dial tone…Seeing those papers scattered over the floor as though she'd had the file in her hand when Not-Cartwright had broken in, grabbed her, and yanked her out. God, the things he'd been unable to keep himself from imagining on the way there.

And then when he saw she was safe, when he held her in his arms, having to watch her leave again to go someplace potentially dangerous, and with no cell phone, no way to contact him, or more importantly, the police. That mean Detective Casey guy. God, that guy was a jerk. But at least he'd be able to back Sarah up if she called him, if she was in danger.

So Chuck had done the only thing he could think of to make sure she was okay. He'd followed her. He did have a cellphone. And a vested interest in her safety, damn it.

And he was going to watch those doors like a hawk. If this Jerald Brown fellow wasn't the upstanding tech guru Chuck had always figured he was in spite of never meeting him face to face, Chuck would take him down himself. He'd played flag football in junior high P.E. He knew what he was about.

He waited, waited…waited some more…

Until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He ducked back behind the palm tree as best he could and watched as the man he now knew wasn't Robert Cartwright strolled up the sidewalk towards the building, in his off-white suit, pale pink tie, suede shoes. A chill went through Chuck as the man stopped and took his sunglasses off, peering up at the very same building Sarah had just gone into to meet the man this imposter hired her to investigate.

His phone was in his hand immediately. He didn't have a direct line to Detective John Casey, but all he had to do was press three numbers.

There was no reason why this man should know what was happening in there. There was no reason why this man should know about this building in the first place, unless…well, unless he knew. Had he followed Sarah, too? Or had he followed Brown?

How did he know?

Oh God. God, Sarah didn't have her cellphone. And now he was going up the steps. If Chuck followed him, he wouldn't be able to stop him. This man was a seasoned criminal and possibly a killer. He definitely had a weapon.

God, he was opening the door.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's a woman being attacked inside of an office. A man went in there and he's attacking her. He has a weapon." He gave the address, told the operator she needed to hurry, and he hung up again.

It killed him, absolutely destroyed him, to move away from the building. He felt like he was dying as he spun on his heel and sprinted back to his car. He was leaving her in there, alone, and he was so terrified he was on the verge of a breakdown. He was angry with himself, sick with himself, and still he got into his car, turned it on, and with only a half glance back at the building his girlfriend was currently inside of with an angry, potentially murderous conman, he sped away from her.

God, he hoped he was doing the right thing. He hoped to any deity that was listening that he was doing the right thing.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Sarah's hand twitched automatically, ready to draw and put this imposter on the ground with a hole in his chest, but before she could do anything else, there was a loud bang and the arm of her chair exploded in splinters.

She yelped and fell out of the chair onto the floor, holding her hands up, her life having just flashed before her eyes.

That had been an extremely precise shot, not meant to hurt her…a warning that he would hurt her if she gave him any sort of reason to. He'd just missed her but she had scratches on her wrist and the back of her hand from the splintered wood exploding next to her.

"Stand up, kick your gun over here, Miss Walker," he demanded coolly, the South African accent gone. His American accent sounded practiced, too, however. "And then keep your hands in the air. You move wrong and I'll shoot you between the eyes. I've got nothing to lose now. Don't think I won't shoot a pretty girl…"

Sarah stood up and carefully went into her holster, pulling her gun out, setting it on the ground and sliding it across the tile floor to the conman.

"You stand up, too, ya fat fuck," the imposter said to Brown, reaching behind him to shut the door as much as he could with how he'd broken the handle getting in.

The private investigator and ex-Pinkerton detective felt anger start to rise inside of her. Not only did this fucker take a shot at her, he was going around calling good men 'fat fucks' too? She clenched her jaw, unable to help herself.

"You think you're a big boy now that you have that gun pointed at us," she said, keeping her hands up. But God she could feel that knife at her hip, and the ones strapped to her thigh and her fingers itched for them. But the only safe thing to do was to throw verbal barbs at him, so she kept going. "You can insult Mr. Brown when you've got a gun trained on 'im, but I bet just a few days ago, you were kissing his ass, weren't you?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, bitch?" She narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Sarah Walker, private investigator. Without those legs, you'd be working at an Abercrombie & Fitch spraying perfume at teenagers."

She inwardly smirked. He might be a dangerous conman, and a smart enough criminal to have gotten away with his ruse for this long, but he hadn't done his homework apparently. He had no idea she'd been a Pinkerton detective. He had no idea whom he was dealing with.

"You picked the wrong P.I. to hire, Cartwright," Brown said, his voice a little shaky as he stood behind her, still at his wife's desk. "She's not just good at her job, she has a moral compass, and a nose for sniffing out criminal lowlifes."

"I did all right, didn't I? Who's standing here with the gun?"

"What are you gonna do?" Brown asked, seeming to gain a bit more confidence now. "Kill us?"

"Yes, actually. I am. Nobody knows we're here." That was true, Sarah thought miserably. Chuck only knew that she'd gone to an office building in SoHo off of Melrose. There were a handful of them. And he'd have no way of knowing if something bad was happening to her. God, she wished so hard for his paranoia, his idiotic jealous paranoia, that worried crease he'd had between his eyebrows…Please, Chuck… Maybe she could telepathically project terror at him and he'd feel something. They were close enough, emotionally bonded, weren't they? She'd never been so connected to anyone else in her entire life. Wasn't that how that weird crap worked?

Please, please, please, Chuck…

"What did you do with Cartwright?" she asked. If she could just get him talking, she could stall whatever it was he meant to do with them.

"I didn't touch the rat bastard. It wasn't me," he groused. "Wish it had been. He was a lousy piece of shit by all accounts, swimming in his money, an asshole to everyone, greedy."

"So he is dead, then. Who did it if it wasn't you?"

"He's dead. There was a storm, destroyed his boat probably. Found some wreckage where I was in Point d'Esny. Also found his body. Nobody else was on the beach so I took everything I could carry, took his body out onto the water, and dropped it with a bag of sand. Got rid of his boat altogether. Wasn't until a few days later I found out he was a Cape Town big shot. But he was a recluse, too. Nobody ever really saw him much at all. Perfect opportunity for me." He shrugged, and Sarah watched for any opportunity she might have to catch him off guard, but this obviously wasn't the first time he'd held a gun on someone. And she was sure this wouldn't be the first time he'd killed either…if it turned out he got that far.

And oh God, what would she do if he started shooting to kill?

"How did you even pull this off?" Brown asked.

"Easy. When the guy was alive and had less dead-bloat than he had when I found 'im, we looked pretty similar I guess. His IDs all worked long enough for me to forge new ones. Nobody asked any questions when Robert Cartwright showed up in Los Angeles for business. The checks all worked, the bank tellers all let me walk right in, the credit cards worked. I've made a fortune off of this guy, all because he was a shitty sailor."

He kissed the tips of his fingers.

"You're deplorable," Sarah said.

"Mmhmm. Deplorable enough to kill you two so I can get away with it all."

Brown cursed. "You aren't getting away with a damn thing!"

"I am. I've already destroyed any records that I was ever here. I've sold most of his African possessions, withdrawn every last cent I could from the banks. After I'm gone, they'll probably file a missing persons report." He chuckled and grinned a now twisted version of Alain Delon's smile. She wished she could apologize to the French actor for ever thinking he was similar.

This asshole wished…

ManFatale, Chuck had called him near the beginning of this damn job. She'd made fun of him then, but now she saw just how right he was. There was a good chance she was dying here today, in this office with the knitted pillows. Underestimating this bastard was her downfall.

"You don't think they'll dog your steps no matter where you go?" she asked then, starting to let anger overtake her fear. She liked anger better. It was better than giving in to despair, despair that she'd seen Chuck for the last time not an hour ago, climbing into his fuel-efficient car, after trying to make her take his phone. Maybe if she'd taken it, she could've secretly hit the emergency button on it.

What was he going to do?

What would he do if she died here today?

Oh, God…

No. Anger. Anger was better.

"I've covered my tracks."

"You haven't covered shit. The FBI, the CIA, the NSA, they've all got guys who find pieces of shit like you every single day. You aren't getting away it with no matter what you do to us," she hissed through her teeth.

The imposter angled his gun down suddenly and shot, sending a bullet clattering into the ground at her feet. She screamed and clasped her hands to her mouth, jumping away. He raised the gun and shot again, hitting the desk right next to her hip and she fell to the side, onto the floor. Brown knelt down behind her, a protective move, but this time the bullet that came from the imposter's gun was true.

Brown hit the tile hard, a hole in his shoulder as he cried out in pain.

Holy shit!

Now there was fear inside of her. Abject fear as she acted fast, grabbing Brown's hand and making him press it against his wound. "Just hold it…press down, you'll be okay…"

"Get up," the imposter growled at her, stepping closer. She ignored him as she tried to help the injured man. "I said get up!" he yelled this time, grabbing her by her hair and yanking her to her feet.

She heard sirens in the distance and she knew as his eyes darted to the side in momentary worry that this was her one and only chance to get herself and Jerald Brown out of here alive.

Sarah Walker, P.I. struck fast. She swung her left arm around, clamped her fingers around his wrist and pushed the gun away from her temple where he'd been holding it. He pulled the trigger, breaking the window behind her, and the sound of it startled him enough that she was able to bring her knee up and back and slam her heel right between his legs.

He yelled in pain as she snapped the arm that had the gun down across her knee, hearing the crack of his bone breaking and the clatter of the gun hitting the floor. She kicked it away as he fell hard onto his back and she crawled onto him, slamming her fist down into his face, over and over and over and over again until he put his non-injured arm up and begged her to stop.

Just then the door burst right off of its hinges, police officers racing inside.

"GET ON THE GROUND!" an LAPD officer barked, and in spite of the fact that he might not be talking to her, she crawled down onto her knees and put her hands behind her head. She didn't know who or what had brought the police here but she wasn't about to be shot for trying to explain right away when they were attempting to take control of the situation.

Once the yelling stopped and the police had clambered over to Brown who was still conscious but whimpering, an officer grabbed her by her arm and hoisted her up. "My name is Sarah Walker, private investigator. That man broke in while I was in a meeting with Mr. Brown and held a gun on us. He shot him. Tried to…tried to shoot me, too." She was breathless, and she realized that in spite of being in scenarios with guns, bombs, and other terrifying situations, this had been one of the closest shaves she'd had.

And she had a lot more to lose this time.

She had to press her lips together and blink a few times to keep the rush of terrified tears at bay.

"All right, miss. Just come over here and sit in this chair. Your name again…?"

"Sarah Walker," she murmured, trying to take deep breaths. "I own Walker Investigative Enterprises. I've-I've got a P.I. license."

The two officers exchanged flat looks. "A P.I., huh?"

This had been too traumatic for her to find the willpower to give them dirty looks for that.

"Get an ambulance here, we've got two men in need of medical attention," one of the cops said into their walky-talky. "One gunshot wound. Another with abrasions to the face, broken arm."

Sarah thought about how badly she wished she could've given him more abrasions to the face, and she thought maybe she was starting to feel more like herself now that the danger had abated. Though her ear was ringing bad from that gun going off so close to it.

"You're Sarah Walker, that's Jerald Brown…and who is this guy?" The cop gestured to Fake Cartwright.

Paramedics rushed in then, tending to Brown first and getting him lifted onto a gurney.

"A criminal," Sarah said. "If you look up Robert Cartwright, you'd find this man's picture. But he-he isn't Robert Cartwright."

"Huh?"

She explained the situation to them for the next three minutes, accepting the strong coffee one of them gave her, and the blanket the other one wrapped around her shoulders. She didn't know when she'd begun to shiver. And it wasn't from the cold.

As she realized she was just barely keeping from slipping into shock, suddenly there was a shuffling of people at the door and Detective John Casey was there, his hulking figure taking up the entire doorway practically. "Whatever she said about him, it's true," he said, pointing over her shoulder. "Cartwright's an imposter." He pulled his badge out as he walked into the room and flashed it at the officers. "I'll handle the questioning from here, officers."

They both nodded and moved away.

And that was when she looked up to see Chuck step out from behind the detective, his eyes finding her immediately.

"Sarah…"

"Chuck!"

She left the coffee and the blanket behind, surging to her feet just in time for his body to crash into hers, his arms so strong as they folded her up against him, so warm and safe and everything she'd needed the moment this had all ended.

Sarah felt her boyfriend's lips against her hair, and then her temple, and her cheek, and he just held her so tight. She didn't ever want to let go. Ever.

And she heard him curse, his hand coming up to brush over her hair. "Are you okay?" he asked finally. "Did he hurt you? I'll kill him."

"Maybe not the smartest thing to say in front of the LAPD, idiot," Casey grumbled from where he was standing over Chuck's shoulder.

She ignored him, though, burying her face in Chuck's neck and letting herself cry just a little. She'd been so scared she'd never see him again. So scared she'd never feel this. Or eat one of his waffles he made that were never thick enough or cooked as much as she wanted them to be because he didn't put enough batter in, and didn't leave it in the iron long enough. Because he was too impatient, like a little boy.

"I'm okay," she gasped out, trying to hold back still and not doing a great job of it. "I'm okay. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said immediately, holding her even tighter, pressing his lips against her temple and keeping them there.

She finally pulled back, letting him cup her face and kiss her properly, and then he kissed the remnants of the few tears she'd shed away. "What—How?" she asked.

"I…" He winced. "I was worried. Super, super worried. I had this weird feeling in my gut letting you drive off to this meeting with no cell phone or anything. So I…gah, I followed you. I know you—you probably…" He huffed at her impatient look. "You're right. Let's table that. I was waiting outside, 'cause I'm your man and I wanted to have your back in case things got cray. But then while I was waiting, I saw that fake-ass mother fucker walk up with his cheesy as hell B-List sunglasses and that shit-eating smirk, and I knew right away that you were in trouble." A smile began to grow on her face as she watched him start to get riled up now as he told his story. "I was going to run after him and strangle him or roundhouse kick him in the jaw or somethin' but then I figured I'd most likely get shot and you'd never forgive me if that happened. So I called 9-1-1 instead and got in my car to come find Cas—Casey—Detective Casey." He cleared his throat at the glare the older man sent him.

"You're insane," she breathed, swallowing another sob and throwing her arms around his neck, letting him lift her enough that her feet were dangling a few inches off the floor, and they stayed like that for long enough that Casey finally cleared his throat.

Chuck set her down and she resisted the urge to kiss him again, longing in her gaze as she peered up at him for a moment…And then she turned to John Casey and nodded.

"Yeah, well…S'a miracle we even got here when we did what with this moron driving like a fuckin' grandma."

"What?!" Chuck spun on his heels to face the LAPD detective. "That's not even true! I was going fast! Things were whizzing past my window!" He let go of her arm with one hand and mimicked swishing his hand back and forth past his head manically.

"Right. Sure. Walker, I'm gonna need you at the station. Your secretary here only gave me the highlights. He can't talk and drive at the same time." Casey turned and headed for the door.

"Are you serious right now?" Chuck asked, his pitch getting a bit higher. "Secretary? How many times do I—?" They both began to follow after him then, Sarah's fist twisted in Chuck's sleeve, pulling him along. "Oh. He's messing with me, isn't he?"

She heard the amused grunt from the cop as he pressed the button to call the elevator, and she saw the small smirk on his face. It made her feel so glad to be alive.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It had only taken twenty minutes for Detective Casey to eject Chuck from the room where he'd taken them for questioning. She'd had to watch as he interrupted one final time—"Sarah, tell him about…"—then Casey's patience, which had been wearing thin already no doubt, snapped. He stood up, grabbed Chuck by his arm, and escorted him out of the room, shutting the door in his face.

She'd had to smirk inwardly at the cute, offended sounds of confusion that her boyfriend made until he was locked out on the other side of the door where he could no longer interrupt.

Casey'd finally sat down across from her again, and she'd told him every last detail she could, even letting him have the files she'd kept in her briefcase that she'd had during the meeting with Brown, in case he'd needed convincing.

"So what made you so sure of Jerald Brown that you ended up focusing most of your efforts on investigating your client, rather than investigating the guy he was paying you to investigate?" Casey asked, forty-five minutes into their meeting.

"Part of it was the fact that I spent three days tailing him, going through his background, his financial records, combing through his personal life, and I'd found absolutely nothing to make me think he was anything other than a good businessman, and a good man in general. Not that he was without faults, but none of it was illegal or reprehensible. No illicit affairs, no fraud, nothing untoward." She shrugged.

"And the other part?"

"Chuck insisted he was a commendable man."

Casey scoffed. "You took him at his word?"

"I always do," she said, holding her chin high. "He knows who is who in his own industry, and he's a commendable man himself."

"Don't get defensive, Walker."

"I did my homework. And on the other side, I had this guy who, for all intents and purposes, was very smooth, seemed to know just what to say to every question or comment I had during our meetings, and…this was the key…the more time I spent in these meetings with who I thought was Robert Cartwright, the more I got the feeling he wanted me to find something wrong."

Casey grunted, thunking a pen against his chin a few times, thoughtfully. Then he narrowed his eyes. "I get where you're going. Instead of wanting you to just check and make sure this potential future business associate was on the level, and being relieved when you kept coming back with confirmation that he was, Cartwright seemed like he was digging for some dirt on him instead."

"Exactly. It was sneaky. And it made me super suspicious."

"Hmng," Casey tossed the pen on the table and pushed his chair back. "Don't blame ya. That was pretty good work, Detective. Don't take this the wrong way," he started, which was always a stellar way for another person to start a statement, she thought wryly, "but I'm curious as to why ya didn't just take the money and let this lie."

Sarah crossed her arms and stood up from her chair, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I'm not that kind of P.I., Detective Casey. I want to make a living off of this P.I. business I'm building, but not at the expense of innocent people, and not to aid and abet criminals. I'm operating on the right side of the law."

"So no adultery cases, huh?" He grinned a bit lecherously and she glared at him.

"If someone comes in offering me the right amount of money to try to catch their partner with someone else, depending on the person and the case, I might accept. But what business is that of yours?"

"It ain't. Lighten up. Yeesh." He held his hands up defensively, one of the gestures that infuriated her the most when men did it at her.

"Is that all you need from me?"

"Yeah. But make sure to stick around for a week or so while we work on this case. We may need the FBI in on this if he's committed crimes like this before, and they'll be bringing the South African and Cape Town authorities in, I'm sure."

"I will," she said, getting up and walking towards the door. "Oh. Here." She came back and set all of the work she'd done down on his desk. "I'm sure you folks'll need this." He deserved the snarky smirk she sent him, and the look on his face told him he probably knew he deserved it, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud ever in a million years.

"Thanks. And uh…make sure you take care of that hand. Don't think I didn't see you trying to hide the scratches. Was that his face that gave you those?"

She looked down at the scratches on the back of her hand, and now on her knuckles from his face, just as Casey surmised. "Yes and no. His face, but also, he shot at the arm of the chair where I'd just been and the wood sort of exploded and caught me."

Casey winced. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just a little home first aid is required. Nothing deep."

"Good." There was silence between them then as she nodded and went for the door. "Walker."

She stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, her hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"We've got officers watchin' him now where he was admitted to the hospital, and when they've set that arm and gotten his face fixed up," she noticed a particular thread of pleasure in his smirk at that, "they're takin' him to his own cell here where I'll question him personally while we wait for FBI to send someone. That is to say…you did some damn fine work."

She smiled. "Thanks. Oh. Did Jerald Brown…?"

"He's gonna be fine. I'll email you where they took 'im if you want to visit tomorrow. He'll be kept at the hospital for a few days."

"Good. And yes. Please do. Thanks."

He nodded and she stepped out of the room, finding Chuck sitting a bit dejectedly in what she thought might be a perp chair at the end of someone's desk. Thankfully, whoever's desk it was seemed to be gone for the day.

She gestured for him to followed her with a flick of her head and a smile when he lifted his chin from his chest and met her eyes.

And she clung to him as best she could while still being able to walk to the elevator.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She was quiet the whole ride back to her apartment, curled up in his passenger seat, having kicked her heels off and pulled her legs against her chest, her forehead leaning against the window as she gazed out on the late afternoon street.

And the sun had finally set, the sky still light out but darkening by the time he pulled into a parking spot in her apartment complex. They'd left her car in free street parking where she'd left it before her meeting with Brown a few hours earlier and they'd get it later, tomorrow most likely. She hadn't seemed as worried about it as she was about finally going home, so he'd promptly driven her from the police station to her place with no stops in between.

Now they sat in the comfortable warmth of his car, the engine off, silence permeating…

Until Sarah turned to look at him, smiling softly, and then she reached out and took his hand, not looking away for even a moment as she breathed a quiet, "Will you stay with me?"

He felt everything inside of him crumbling and never in his entire life had he ever wanted to protect anything or anyone as much as he wanted to protect Sarah Walker. Not trusting his voice, still shaken up from what had nearly happened, he nodded vigorously instead, and she smiled a bit harder.

They got out and headed up to her apartment, his arm around her shoulders the whole way, and he used his key to let them in, turning on the lights for her as she tossed her purse onto the entryway table and kicked off her heels again, shrugging her jacket off.

It was then that he saw her hand. There were bloody marks on the back of it, cuts on her wrist, and red welts with dried blood and most likely bruising underneath on her knuckles.

Nothing else mattered as he made a beeline for her and gently picked up her arm, cradling her hand and wrist in his comforting grip. "Sarah…"

"I know, I know…but it's fine. I've had worse."

"You've let this go for hours."

"I've had worse, Chuck. It's okay. I'll just ice it—"

He shook his head vehemently and pulled her through her apartment to the bathroom. "You have first aid?"

"You know where it is from where you burned yourself on the coffee pot."

"Oh…oh yeah. Um…remind me, though."

Seeing blood on her hand, her own blood, knowing she'd been hurt, knowing she could have been worse than hurt, was starting to catch up to him suddenly. And he was trying so hard not to let her see. He didn't want her thinking he was going to be a basket case about her chosen profession. That every little cut she got made him crazy and sick with worry. But this had felt like a big deal. A really big deal. And he had no idea what would've happened if the police hadn't shown up, if he hadn't called them.

"Hey," she breathed suddenly, and he cursed himself a little, knowing he'd let it all show on his face anyway. "Hey, look at me." She cupped his face and forced his gaze to hers. Her blue eyes reassured him immediately and he had to resist the urge to melt into her, hold onto her for dear life. "Chuck, are you spiraling because of this?" she asked, presenting her injured hand to him.

He nodded, putting his hands on her hips to keep himself steady.

Her good hand stroked his jaw and his eyelids fluttered. "Please don't. I'm okay."

"Help me maybe not spiral by telling me where that first aid kit is and I can clean you up a bit."

"It's right here, in the cupboard under this drawer." She shifted to bump her hip against the drawer she was talking about. "But…before you do that, would you mind if I took a shower?"

He shook his head and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, a slow, long kiss. He understood the request at a deeper level, but he wouldn't say it out loud. She needed some time alone after everything. She'd almost been killed, watched Brown get shot right in front of her, and had cops swarming her, and finally the questioning at the station and being trapped in the car with him as he drove her home.

"Thank you. It-It'll be a quick one." She slid past him, dragging her fingertips over his abdomen as she went to the shower and turned on the water.

"Take your time, baby. I'll have a martini ready for you when you're done." On second thought, as she gingerly started to unbutton her blouse, he waited for her to realize he was still there and turn to meet his gaze before he said it again. "Take your time."

Understanding dawned on her features and her shoulders drooped a bit. He thought her chin might have quivered and he just turned on his heel and left before he was tempted to gather her up in his arms and hold her some more. She needed to be alone for a bit, though, so he went into her kitchen and started preparing a few martinis, two to start with, one for each of them. He didn't know how many of these she was going to need, but he'd make her as many as she asked for.

And he waited, enjoying the texts Ellie had sent him throughout all of this, the one about Clara pushing herself up to sit for a few seconds before falling again. The look she gave her mom like she didn't know if she should cry or not. It warmed him from the inside out. And he'd been so cold before. Unable to get rid of that terrifying sensation he'd had when he'd screeched to a halt next to the office building, seeing the police cars haphazardly parked, lights still blinking, the ambulance there, someone being wheeled into it…

He'd seen it was Brown, that he'd been shot, and he tried to tear into the building, only to have Casey and two other officers have to grab onto him and nearly take him down to the ground. When they got him to stop, Casey barked, "He's with me", and he yanked on Chuck's tie, pointing in his face with a "Slow down, kid".

That was all it took for him to gain control, afraid this detective might knock him out altogether if he didn't take a breath. And he let Casey take point, shaken to his core until the moment he stepped into the room and saw his very own detective sitting there, alive, no bullet holes in her like the man downstairs'd had.

He felt a chill go through him as he stood there peering out into the courtyard of Sarah's building, watching an older woman take down a few shirts she'd hung on a clothesline and toss them into a basket. Her tabby cat made a figure-8 around her legs in the meantime, finally following her inside as she hobbled up the steps and into the building.

Chuck let himself get lost in everything for a few minutes, going through all of the worst scenarios that thankfully hadn't happened. Sarah was alive and well, currently in the shower, washing off the remnants of her harrowing ordeal.

He'd heard everything that had happened to her in Mrs. Brown's office while she told the grumpy detective—before said grump kicked him out. He supposed he couldn't blame the guy for it, though, because he'd caught himself interrupting too often. No matter how many times he apologized, he never learned, and his punishment was sitting out by himself for the remainder of the conversation.

But Sarah had been shot at multiple times, and every time Not-Cartwright had purposely missed her, his intent being to scare her. That made Chuck Bartowski angry. There was an extra level of pathology to lord your power over someone in that way, terrifying them before you kill them, making them suffer… It made him feel so disgusted, and then he thought Sarah must have come into contact with psychopaths like this guy before in her line of work.

She was an incredible bad ass, the coolest, strongest person he'd ever met. And he was sure no matter how often she'd come face to face with these crazy assholes, it didn't make being shot at any easier to handle, especially when it was so cruelly done to terrorize her. By the shakiness in her voice when she'd told them about him shooting her chair and then at her feet, and finally at the desk next to her hip, before sinking a bullet into Mr. Brown, the man she'd been attempting to protect, Chuck could tell it had gotten to her. Genuinely.

Maybe he shouldn't announce it in front of the LAPD, but deep inside, Chuck wasn't sure he'd be able to hold himself back from murdering that guy if he'd had a crack at him when he first got into that room and saw Sarah there, her face so pale, the blanket around her shoulders, the bun she'd had in her hair when he'd seen her last half pulled out… He'd discovered later that the man had grabbed her by her hair and yanked her up to her feet by it.

Chuck thought he'd like to do the same to him, but instead he'd pull his spine right out with one hard yank. Mortal Kombat style.

"Thought I'd bring the first aid kit with me because I already know you'll refuse to take no for an answer."

He spun on his heel, letting the curtain fall back into place and cover the window to see Sarah had wandered in, her step light like a cat's so that he hadn't heard her come in. Granted he might've also been a bit distracted.

But then she set the first aid kit on the table and frowned deeply. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Wrong?"

"You turned around and looked like a rabidly angry gorilla or something for a second."

He just shook his head and sniffed in amusement. "It's nothing."

"Chuck…"

"I was thinking about what he did to you, and maybe imagining myself doing one of the Mortal Kombat fatality moves on him. That's all." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, slowly wandering over.

She widened her eyes. "I don't know what those moves entail but you said the word fatality, so that sounds a little serious, buddy."

At least that shower had made it so she seemed a little more like herself. Less shaken, more settled. The almost-unnoticeable shiver she'd had before was gone.

"It is. I have to be honest with you, Sarah. Part of me is angry with myself that I didn't just follow him and body tackle him into the ground then and there."

Her eyes flashed, concern and even a bit of frustration in her face. And then she put her hand on his chest, her fingers curling against his shirt as she shook her head. "Chuck, don't say that. Please never do something like that. He had a gun. He would've killed you."

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

"I-I'm not trying to make it seem like you're weak or incapable, baby. I'm really not. Just—Listen to me. I'm trained in combat, I have extensive training and years of experience using guns. I had a gun with me, as well as the knives I always have strapped to me. Hey, look at me. Please." She put her good hand on the side of his face and pulled his eyes back to hers. "I was nearly powerless in there. He had me, Chuck. If he hadn't slipped, let his guard down for that one second…" Her voice drifted off. "My point is that someone trained, like me, could have easily died doing whatever it is you might've done in that moment instead of what you ended up doing." She stroked her hand through his curls. "Which was the right thing."

"I know." He gently slid his hand around her waist and pulled her a little closer. "It just felt…terrible. Watching him go in there, knowing you were about to have him burst in on you. And knowing now what he ended up doing, that you were hurt and Brown was shot. What if I could've stopped all of it?"

"What if you couldn't have but you tried anyway and ended up being shot yourself?" Her eyes searched his. He couldn't come up with an answer to that. "What would I do, then? What would I even do if you were shot, Chuck? I can't even begin to think…" She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. And he held her tighter.

"I ran away from you. I left you behind."

"You saved my life," she said in a much steadier voice, her features hard, willing him to understand. "What you ended up doing wasn't just the right thing, Chuck, it was incredibly brave."

He winced a little. "It didn't feel very brave."

"You could've let your worry for me, your fear, overtake you and you could've run after him, tried to stop him, and ended up getting all of us killed…but instead you called the police, knowing that they'd have more of a chance of stopping him than you ever would. And you went to get Casey involved, which…" She paused. "Why did you get Casey?" She blinked, her brow furrowed as though the question had just struck her at that moment.

Chuck swallowed thickly. "I was afraid they'd believe the wrong person unless you had someone they trusted vouching for you. And I knew Casey would be the perfect person to be there for that."

She beamed at him so suddenly that his heart felt like an insane amount of weight had been taken off of it. And then she hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back similarly. "You're brave and brilliant, Chuck Bartowski."

He felt so much pride in that moment, hearing how proud she was of him, how grateful she was, how impressed she was, in her voice, feeling it in the way she squeezed him, kissed his cheek.

"And you're a bad ass and the best, Sarah Walker. So I guess we make a good pair. Maybe I can be your assistant."

"No," she giggled, kissing his cheek again and then pulling back. "I will let you take care of me, though."

"Oh, gladly," he said with as much warmth as he was capable of, and then he gently pushed her to sit in the chair at the table and went to grab a bowl, putting some warm water and soap in it, then wandering back with that and a cloth in hand.

He scooted close to her and let her drape her hand over the bowl as he silently cleaned the cuts that didn't look so bad now that she'd showered. She only winced a little at the cuts on her wrist when he was gently rubbing ointment over them, and then he wrapped a light bandage around all of it.

"I look like the bride of Frankenstein's monster," she said with a giggle once he finished.

"She wishes," Chuck answered, watching as Sarah turned her arm a bit to look at his work. "What?" he asked when she gave him a quiet, searching look.

"You did a pretty good job here, actually."

That made him smile. "Listen, I grew up with a big sister who's wanted to be a doctor ever since she found out what a doctor was. Do you know how often I got wrapped up in bandages through all the years I spent under the same roof as her?"

She laughed. "Was it often?"

"Often enough." He chuckled. "She got better at it when she was actually in med school and I guess I picked up some things, little tricks of the trade. Don't ask me to stitch a wound shut, though, because I will faint."

Sarah snorted. "That's cute."

"Is it?" he drawled dubiously. He got up then and straightened his back, feeling a few pops, then put the bowl away, the bandages and the first aid kit, and when he came back out, Sarah had finished her martini.

She held the glass up towards him and pouted a little.

"Another?" he asked, receiving a smile in return. He chuckled and took her glass, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then went back to the kitchen to make her another. "Hey, you want a flavor in it this time? Maybe some lime? I saw a lime in your fridge."

Sarah was standing next to him suddenly—those cat-like silent feet of hers—and he nearly jumped. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sneak." He shrugged at her wince. "You just…You've never put flavors in a martini for me before. It's always just been a traditional, perfectly dry martini. What's gotten into my Chuck?"

"If you want me to make it like I always do, I can." He shrugged again. She was looking at him steadily, that look of hers that saw right through him. And he sighed. "It has nothing to do with the martini, but-but I guess today sort of put into perspective for me that you're not…"

"What?"

"Immortal. Indestructible." His throat was dry then and he looked away, swallowing.

"Did you…think I was? Like some kind of comic book character?"

"No. Of course not." He sniffed in amusement. "But what you do is dangerous and it's something I'm going to have to come to terms with. I hadn't before this because I guess I…haven't had to yet. But I have to now."

"Chuck, I'm okay."

"I know you are. So am I. We're okay. And that's not something that's gonna change, no matter how many ManFatales try to take you away from me."

Sarah smirked at that and gave him a side-eye. "No fucking way anybody is taking me away from you. And vice versa," she added, pointing at him a bit threateningly.

"I didn't just mean romantically." He chuckled. "I meant…uh…you know."

"Oh." She sobered significantly. "That, too. And yeah…maybe this time we can try some lime in the martini. I have some pineapple slices, too. Maybe some of the juice…?"

"Splendid idea," he said, giving her a warm smile. And they stood side by side as he prepared more martinis for them to enjoy.

They eventually found their way to Sarah's bed, stretching themselves out over it and leaning back against her headboard. She'd since fallen asleep, her harrowing ordeal earlier on in the day knocking her out soon after she curled herself up on his chest.

He just held onto her, looking down into her face. She looked younger when she was asleep, so at peace, without any worries to speak of. But then his eyes latched onto her wrapped hand and wrist that was slung over his chest and he frowned.

She was a private investigator. And as awesome as it was, as hot as it was that he was dating someone so damn cool, he couldn't let himself forget how serious it was, too. How serious it could be. He'd never want her to give up what she wanted to do, who she wanted to be, so that he had better peace of mind when she went to work, the way the boyfriend of an accountant might. His girlfriend wasn't going to stop being a private investigator, whether he was awful enough to want her to or not.

And so…Chuck Bartowski was determined instead to support her. To be here on the hard days like today. To protect her when she needed him to. To bandage her cuts, hold her, make her martinis, and let her fall asleep in his arms.

Because being with Sarah Walker, P.I. was so much better than being with some accountant who sat in an office all day. The worry, the nerves, the adrenaline, and even the fear, were all worth it because she was worth anything and everything.

This was her, he realized, looking down into her face.

These cases with genuinely bad dudes wanting to do her harm because she was good at her job, because she was working to take them down, were all part of what made her…her. The danger, the chase, the high stakes…that was all part of her.

He loved her.

That included everything that made her who she was. That included this. And those moments of fear, the danger…

No matter what this career of hers brought them, this wouldn't ever change. He was ready for the bumps and bruises he'd get in the meantime himself. He was ready for the hurdles and hardships ahead. He thought he was ready for just about anything.

Because this was their life now.

And he wouldn't trade it for the whole universe.

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