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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

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Ectober Day 6: Year - A Warriors Body

The (half)lifestyle Danny (half)lived was bound to affect him in many ways; some more visible than others. He was a fighter after all, and with enough time a fighter is gonna look like one.

Tucker pats Danny as they begin walking to school, “man it’s gonna be so weird being back huh?”. Making Danny chuckle, “tell me about it”, sighing and rubbing his neck, “and what with the lack of classes there’s been so much more time for hunting ‘n stuff. I’m gonna be so jittery just sitting in pointless classes for hours on end”.

Tucker laughs and grins like an idiot, knowing that was an understatement. You’d think the kid would take it easy when given a break, but no. Instead he basically fell face-first into fighting everything. And if there weren’t any fights then he went off training. “You just don’t know how to relax anymore I think”.

“Eh, you might have a point there. Jazz says I’m becoming an adrenaline junkie”.

Tucker gives him another pat and deadpans, “she’s right”.

“Fuck you”.

Tucker just laughs at that before poking Danny’s bicep, “though all your fighting sure has done you some favours”, attempting at flexing himself but just looking kinda ridiculous, “now if only I could pack on muscle that fast! Then the ladies would be all over me!”.

Danny rolls his eyes with a small smile, “you would if you actually did literally any physical activity outside of when you absolutely had to. Plus, you know my body’s more manipulatable”. Which was a blessing and a curse... and also the reason he was going to wear exclusively baggy clothing for the foreseeable future. He’d rather not have the fact that he rather looked like he low-key lived at the gym be on display. After all, he was supposed to be the weak little loser that blended into the background and slacked off; there was no logical reason to an outsider for him to pack on muscle, especially as much as he had. But hey, at least he hadn’t hit a growth spurt on top of it; though that would probably happen sometime in the future. Ugh.

Tucker rolls his eyes and puts his hands behind his head, “still man. You probably look way better naked than me”.

Danny actually pauses on the sidewalk at that and stares at Tucker, “Ancients, you’re such a pervert”. Tucker just looks back and winks at him, making Danny shake his head and start walking again. Smacking Tucker’s stomach as he catches up, “maybe you should focus less on how big your arms are and more on how big your stomach is, Mr. Eats Five Burgers In One Sitting. You’re gonna wind up like my dad... just shorter”.

“Ouch, low blow. But what can I say? All that tasty juicy meat is just begging to be devoured. How can a guy say no to that?”. Tucker digs in his pocket and flips out his PDA, “oh and Sam's still not gonna be back today”.

Danny groans, “great, so first day is gonna be even more shit. Wonderful. And don’t we have gym first block? Zone, the Universe just hates us, huh?”.

Tucker grins, pocketing the device, “like that’s anything new. But hey, at least you probably won’t die this year”, pointing at him, “and you’ve got some bully protection now too”.

Danny quirks a very confused eyebrow, “huh?”. Making Tucker roll his eyes disbelievingly, “dude seriously? There is literally no way you fit in a locker now. Sure your horrible clothing choices-”, tugging on the mustard yellow sweater with a little green puppy pin on the bottom, “-makes you seem small, but Dash isn’t that stupid”, laughing and tilting his head, “sure is close though. As soon as he picks you up he’s gonna notice something’s off, even I know muscle weighs a lot”.

Danny blinks at him, pausing his walking again, “Tuck pal, just how heavy do you think I am? I’m barely a-hundred pounds”. Tucker pokes his arm, “bullshit. I think you need a new scale”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “dude, most of my muscle and stuff is ectoplasm-based. Just my built-up ectoplasm storing itself overtop of my bones and fleshy muscle. And ecto’s weightless, remember? Heck, it can be anti-weight or whatever; me having more ecto muscle makes me weigh less not more”. Tucker blinks, “huh, didn’t think of it like that”, and decides what the heck and promptly wraps his arms around Danny to lift him up. Easily noting that yeah, Danny really doesn’t weigh much. A-hundred might even be being generous.

Danny shoves him off as Tucker puts him back on the ground, “so ha, no Dash won’t notice”, looking at the ground a little worriedly, “though yeah, I probably won’t fit in a locker anymore. Maybe I could...”, glancing at his arm before shaking his head, “hmmmm yeah no, that’d just make me look fat”.

Tucker chuckles, “what? Trying to redistribute the ecto? Hate to break it to ya, but you’ve got way too much to be a skinny twig again”.

“Hey”.

Tucker points over his shoulder at the school, “it’s true and you know it. And it’s not like I was any better”, both of them chuckle at that before Tucker continues, “anyway, welcome back to Hell I guess. Ready for another year of suffering and Highschool inequality”.

Danny snorts, “and suitably started off by the worst class of all, which will probably involve both of us getting rubber balls to the face”. Tucker just snorts right back as they climb the steps to the doors that both of them kinda wanted to never see again. Especially Danny, not like he was ever going to actually need or make use of the crap the teachers shoved down their throats here. If he was more of a delinquent then he’d just drop out here and now.

But hey, at least the whole quartets lockers -yes, even Valerie’s- were all together this year. Small miracles.

Danny groans as the two boys push in the gymnasium doors, making a be-line for the locker room and hoping to continue successfully avoiding the entirety of the football team. At least in the locker room they wouldn’t be total jackasses, since they had some weird level of respect for the ‘sacredness’ of the locker room. Probably some weird sports guy thing.

Pushing? Fine. Ass slapping? For some reason, fine. Hiding someone’s clothes? Sometimes fine. But actually shoving someone into lockers, or giving someone a swirly in the locker room bathroom, or actually wrecking the gym clothes? Off-limits; and messing with the showers was only cool if someone was taking waaaaaay too long. It was weird but hey, at least it made the locker room something of a semi-safe zone. So long as you were cool getting mocked for changing in the showers or out in front of everyone. Chance to show off for the jocks, chance to get mocked for everyone else.

Tucker chills against the wall, waiting on Danny who always took stupid long to change. Dude had bandaging and scars to cover after all. Whistling and inspecting his nails, being the only one still actually in here besides Danny; as per usual. It was kinda weird, felt like they had just finished freshman year days ago and yet here they were again. Back in the same routine. Danny’s voice breaks through his thoughts, “uh, I think we -or more so I- might have a slight problem”.

Tucker sighs, at least Danny’s tone wasn’t serious which meant less ‘danger/ghost fight incoming’ and more ‘mild inconvenience or some general halfa weirdness’, “what?”.

Danny gives a very awkward chuckle, stepping out and holding his arms out to the side before looking down at his shirt, “I may have updated my wardrobe, but I think I may have forgotten something”.

Tucker blinks before sputtering and laughing, bending over a bit to wheeze, “dude, haha, that so doesn’t fit you anymore!”. Tucker absolutely forgot that Mrs. Testlauf was super serious about wearing fitting clothes, pretty sure Danny had too. She always went off about how it ‘showed the value and worth of a person and their progress’ course she’d always add on ‘and shows who the weak pipsqueaks are’. Laughing some more, “how did you even get that on? I get that the underaumour is, like, super-duper stretchy, but the shirt? Looks like it’s gonna burst apart at the seams!”.

Danny huffs, “again, more manipulatable. I’m ‘squishy’ remember?”, and crosses his arms. Both of them still and stare at the air at the sound of ripping; proving Tucker right.

Tucker falls on his ass laughing after a beat, “guess you have to ask for a new one now! Ha! Testlauf’s gonna be pissed”.

“Fuck you man”, Danny starts laughing himself though and glances around before just phasing off the shirt; yeah, he wrecked the sleeves. Stupid Testlauf and her stupid ‘wear your proper sizes or it’ll be detention for the rest of your life’ rule. Least the shorts were supposed to be a bit loose, not that they currently were.

Both boys’ jump a little at hearing a rather masculine female voice shout, “where the Zone is Fenton and Foley! Those two slackers better get their butts out here! Or they’ll be running laps all class!”. Danny and Tucker both panic a little at that, and justifiably so because talk about harsh. Promptly bolting out of the locker room, Danny with his ruined shirt in hand.

Unfortunately, though obviously, everyone is pretty much staring at them as they run out. Most looking to be partway through rolling their eyes but stop. Dash -because of course Danny would get stuck having gym with Dash- is the one to actually point shit out though, “Fenton? What the Hell happened to you?!?”.

Danny quirks an eyebrow, “huh?”, while walking over to Testlauf and speaking rather awkwardly, “I, uh, need a new gym shirt”.

Testlauf blinks, “like Hell you do”, and snatches the shirt. Holding it up and looking from it to the boy, clearly seeing that it’s torn and stretched out. Then giving Danny an almost happy appraising look, “well I’ll be, Fenton, so you do”, and gives him a clap on the arm that is absolutely a pleased one.

Danny blinks, confused, and looks to Tucker, who also looks confused, “what the Zone is happening here?”.

Todd blurts out, “what do you think? You have a bloody six-pack and the arms of an ox. Did you take steroids or something?”.

Danny and Tucker blink, then look to Danny’s chest. Danny instantly blushing a bit and attempting to cover up, belatedly remembering that Testlauf actually took the shirt, “uhhhh. No?”. Tucker has to turn away from everyone to laugh at Danny’s expense. Danny shoves him over for that; Tucker just lays on the ground laughing, not bothering to get up.

Testlauf tosses a larger shirt at him, “get that on and let’s see what you can do with those new muscles. Glad to see you ain’t no bloody wimp anymore”, huffing to herself as she walks off to get the balls, “to see youths shaping up, nothing makes me prouder. I couldn’t give a damn how he did it, kid’s not the type to go to unhealthy measures”. Danny, actually being able to hear her, blushes a little.

In the meantime, all Danny’s fellow classmates rush up and start trying to poke at him. He, of course, bats them off erratically; Tucker springing up to also try shooing people off from his best friend. The fact that Danny’s shirt is still practically skin-tight honestly doesn’t help; less so than the underarmour at least.

Dash scowls at Danny, while aggressively snatching up a ball, “seriously, the goddamn Zone Fenton. Weaklings ain’t supposed to bulk up”.

Danny glances from side to side before steeling his expression and meeting the bully's eyes, effectively deciding screw it, “not my fault you were too busy stuffing me into things to notice things were changing”.

Jesse blinks at him while joining the side Danny’s on, “so wait, you’ve been working out or some shit for a while and straight up no one noticed?”.

Danny shrugs, “it’s also not my fault no one cares to really pay attention to me and besides, I like being left alone”.

Testlauf blows her whistle, which of course results in Dash instantaneously whipping a ball straight at Danny. Which again, makes Danny decide fuck it, and just catches the ball nonchalantly. Dash scowls as Danny smirks, Dash walking off to the side.

Everyone on Dash’s side pauses for a second and glance at each other, before all silently agreeing to bombard the boy. Todd speaking while whipping a ball at him just like everyone else, “so this is why you always wear such baggy clothes huh? Can’t say I understand why or how though!”.

Danny just choosing to dodge with a sidestep this time, “because you people are dicks honestly. And my mom’s a black belt and knows more fighting styles than I can shake a stick at. How the Zone do you think?!?”. More than a couple nod to themselves while running around throwing and dodging.

Mikey, who just so happens to be trying to hide behind him, readjusts his glasses, “and don’t they want you to be a hunter like them? That’s a pretty physical job”. Emily shouting, “and Jack has totally tossed an RV through a wall before! So packing on muscle easily must be in your DNA!”. Danny isn’t about to argue against that, that might actually have something to do with it after all. Even if it was more his ghost halfs fault.

The rest of the game devolves from there, becoming more wild throwing and teenage shrieking than pestering Danny. Which Danny’s perfectly content with, though that results in someone getting practically thrown into him after getting blown back by a ball to the stomach. Which then results in Danny getting flipped over and throwing his ball way harder than he meant to. The entire gym pauses at the ball hitting the back wall and actually cracking the fake brick a bit.

Tucker bends over wheezing with laughter from the sidelines, looks like someone might have gotten a little too used to chucking round -though usually glowing- balls at beings that could handle being rammed by semi’s. Least he didn’t hit anyone and break their arm!

Danny blinks at the wall, “heh heh, whoops”. The few people still remaining on the other side honestly just look impressed rather than the more reasonable reaction, which would be fear and concern for their own safety; but Amity Park and CasperHigh were crazy like that though.

Mrs. Testlauf blows her whistle, “at that I think it’s a good time to wrap this up, before Fenton murders someone”, Danny rubs his neck at that while she points at him and continues, “learn self-control boy, these walls see enough damage as it is”. Which gets quite a few people to start snickering at his expense; Danny just nods awkwardly and blushes a bit. Learning self-control was generally pretty high on Danny’s priority list as it was.

Tucker snickers at him as everyone goes to clean up, “guess someones gotta relearn they’re surrounded by meek little regular old humans huh”, with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. Danny smashes his face into the wall, not hard enough to do actual damage though, “shut up, Tuck”; making a few people around chuckle.

Tucker grumbles a fake, “ow”, as he pulls his face off the wall after Danny let’s go of his head. Then turning to him and smirking meanly, pulling out his PDA. Danny eyes it and Tucker’s grin, “oh don’t you dare”.

“You started it”, and jabs him with the device, giving him a mild electrical shock.

A couple other teens blink and watch the two boys pretty much beat each other up slightly. Emily muttering, “I think I don’t actually want to know what the Zone the defect quartet gets up to in their spare time”.

Todd snorts, “you’re just weak”. She glares back at him, “I don’t hear you asking”. He waves her off, “now why would I waste my precious energy on that”, earning a few snorts from the rest of the class just as the bell goes off.

Jesse runs up to Danny as everyone’s walking to leave, pulling at the ugly yellow sweater, “what I don’t get, is why you dress like such shit if you've got it going on under there”. Danny shrugs, “just don’t care”, he did care, he cared that people didn’t notice literally any of his weirdness. But obviously that wasn’t working out here. Especially with Dash giving him a weird look and clearly choosing to not go and bug Danny. But maybe, judging by how no one really seemed to care beyond being impressed and he had had fun, maybe that didn’t matter.

After all, it had been a year since he died. Since he started fighting day and night practically every other waking moment. Since he started Highschool. Things had changed. He had. And try as he might, people were going to notice that. He wasn’t that same kid anymore. The little living weak wallflower Danny Fenton didn’t exist anymore, and there really was no point in trying to pretend that he did.

End.

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lisinfleur · 3 years

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I don't think all Bjorn's behaviour is Thorunn fault. She was suffering too, she thought she lost all her beauty and didn't think she was worth of Bjorn's love. I think that Lagertha could have talked with him about it, and taught him how to treat and support his wife their relationship could continue.

But Lagertha did nothing, they even left the little Siggy with Aslaug and as long as I know that she was terrible human being leaving the girl alone, she wasn't her granddaughter, so I ask where was Lagertha the defender of the women at these times?

TONS UNDER THE CUT XD Sorry for it being too long, love!

Ok, let us break your asks into parts cause I see some pretty good material here. First of all, Björn's behavior. Indeed it is not ONLY Þórunn's fault. But a great part is. A person's personality/character is built over a lot of small parts of itself and its relationship with the world around. Our mothers and fathers build a lot of ourselves, but we also learn a lot from people around us, and sometimes it pushes us away from our parents' behavior and even pushes us away from them (I may be inserting a little bit of personal experience here haha). In Björn's case, his relationship to women and character when it comes to being a husband/father comes pretty much from his traumas related to Ragnar and Þórunn respectively. Ragnar destroyed his conceptions of what should be a perfect love story and Þórunn broke his hope/self-confidence that he was able to build a story different from the one he saw his parents building. I think he kinda mirrored himself in Lagertha - the abandoned/betrayed part of the relationship - and then decided to become Ragnar - the "fuck-it-all" part of the relationships he had. But we cannot say he didn't support Þórunn. He was UTTERLY supportive from carrying for her wound to keep their relationship warm, even trying to show her his desire was intact, his love was still there, and her beauty wasn't everything. As much as he had chance upon chance to receive love after Þórunn and I blame exclusively him for not allowing himself to be loved and dive into a true love like Torvi's or Gunnhild's; I blame Þórunn exclusively for not being able to accept her wound wasn't enough reason for her value as a woman/partner for Björn to be reduced. He loved her and he showed her scar meant nothing to him. She was the one who decided to start pushing him towards finding another woman (which ended up with him and Torvi getting involved) and later on, to leave him and little Siggy behind. So, no excuses for Þórunn here, but indeed Ragnar also had a part in this character construction for Björn and I believe even his involvement with Snaefrid and its tragic end also killed the last drop of hope he could have to love and be loved in this lifetime.

Now speaking of Aslaug, I utterly disagree that she was a "terrible human being". She wasn't. Definitely not. She was a human being. And here is the spot that everyone insists on ignoring through the whole fandom. No anger attached, for real, but there are some spots to be brought to light here that no one really uses to care about when speaking about Ragnar's second wife. So, let us bring it out the reasons why I do not agree with your definition of Aslaug: She was a mother of four. The woman was already taking care by herself of four kids, one of them SEVERELY disabled, screaming, and in pain 24/7 a day. As a mother of a possibly autistic child who screams at least 16 of the 24 hours she's with me, believe me: it makes you INSANE! And my daughter isn't even disabled or in pain like Ivar was. I can't stop crying and feeling the worst mother in the world when my Victoria cuts a finger or hurts herself falling during a run - now stop and imagine Aslaug's head thinking about the child she had just put in this world... At that time, they didn't have too much awareness of the men's participation in the children's production so, men were said to seed, women were said to produce the child. You can remember Ivar accusing Freydis of "producing him such a monster" when speaking about little Balðr. Aslaug dealt with the same guilt of producing herself a child with such terrible condition, always in pain, screaming for her help she couldn't offer. And in the middle of this she had Sigurd - who was still a baby around 1 to 2 years old - Hvitserk - who was a dog after his older brother EVERYWHERE - Ubbe, who was becoming a man too soon into her eyes - and Ragnar, who wasn't there practically all the time, leaving the housekeeping, the kingdom keeping, and the child keeping for her alone (cause people use to forget, but Bjorn was going everywhere with his father before assuming Kattegat's reign, so it was left in ASLAUG's hands). Do I have to remember this woman didn't know how to cook when she arrived? Her SERVANTS made the dinner she offered to Ragnar and Lagertha for welcoming her. The woman was a princess without a kingdom when she came, and she never had her father and mother around to tell her what to do or teach her how to be a mother. Believe me, girl, I had my mother to teach me, and even with her around it was HARD AS FUCK and I still learn things every day! Imagine how hard it was for her to do everything I just said she was responsible for... And then comes Þórunn and throws over her a fifth child she cared PERFECTLY about until BJÖRN rejects the child leaving HER with the incumbency to care for a fifth child in the middle of all the things she already had to do...

Whoever can remember, Aslaug had several mental breakdowns during this series, became alcoholic, lost her mind several times, cried her ass out... And who can blame her? She failed little Siggy, indeed, but she was overwhelmed trying to deal with several things at the same time along with the carelessness of her husband that was really not giving a flying fuck to what she was doing but was all up to slap her or speak about her mistakes whenever they would spot up. She failed Sigurd too... But no one can say Ubbe and Hvitserk weren't well raised and she lost her mind but even then, Ivar survived, didn't he? Aslaug wasn't a terrible human being. She was an overwhelmed woman... But can we say the same about Lagertha? As a warrior? Flawless! Amazing woman! But I still question myself about how the fuck did Björn reached adult life! The stories she taught Hali and Asa about Björn and Ragnar and being a warrior and son of who Hali was and her poor attention to the children's safety during a battle caused Hali to die that horrible way - and it WAS her fault! He was on her responsibility and SHE HAD to pay attention to create a safe (and preferentially LOCKED) space for the children to be during the attack, but she was so up to being the flawless shieldmaiden who would save the village for the women who came to ask for her help that she forgot children sometimes are stupid and can do stupid things to follow stupid examples... Hali wanted to be a warrior like his father and grandfather from her stories. She just forgot to say he had to GROW UP before holding a sword or proving himself a son of the great Björn Ironside...

Speaking of being a shitty grandmother, can we talk about little Siggy a little? She was LAGERTHA's granddaughter and RAGNAR's granddaughter. She had NOTHING to do with Aslaug and I didn't see any of them complaining Björn abandoned the child. Ragnar at least slapped his beautiful firstborn's face when Björn fucked up and took pregnant Þórunn with him into battle. But Lagertha? Not a single word before, not a single word during, not a single word after it. Not about little Siggy, not about dear Torvi that Björn abandoned out of nowhere - no. Instead of defending a woman suffering a sudden abandonment like hers, Lagertha was too occupied negotiating the Sammi's princess' pussy for her beloved golden boy. (Sorry about the language, but gods, it made me mad!)

So, after all of this, if someone can be called a despicable human being in this whole situation - unpopular opinion here - it would be Lagertha. And in this, we agree.

Sorry for the long LOONG answer (way too long, I'm so sorry!), and thanks for the opportunity to vent about this haha Feel free to send me answers! I love talking about the series like this! All the love!

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winter-angst · 5 years

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It’s my birthday so have a drabble!

so sweet but with a mean streak

“Just can’t seem to stay out of trouble can you, Rumlow?”

Brock rolled his eyes, defensive stance falling into something bearing open. The flashing lights glowing just beyond the alleyway still made his pulse hitch upward but the tall cop sauntering toward him but him at ease in a way no other pig or John could.

“How else am I ‘posed to get your attention, Officer.” Brock drawled in return.

Officer Rollins stopped just shy of him but Brock could smell him. Cologne, cigarette smoke, nicotine gum and coffee on his breath just barely masking the scent of alcohol that most definitely wasn’t standard police procedure. Jack didn’t always drink on the job but when he did, he was unpredictable and gave Brock a fluttering of excitement in the pit of his belly. The urge to preen and to kneel with his hands behind his head clashed in that wondrous way Brock loved so much.

Brock considered walking away, just to see if Rollins would handle him roughly. His too tight pants felt even tighter at the mere prospect. “How about not whoring around my turf?”

A passing truck lit up the alleyway briefly, highlighting Officer Rollins’ sharp cheekbones, dark piercing eyes and the scar that stretched from his lip to his chin. The expression he wore was somewhere between a jeer and a scowl; Brock swallowed back the flutter of nervousness he got by simply being this close to such an intimidating figure.

“I’m working, same as you.”

Brock’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. It was a nervous habit he couldn’t shake and that Officer Rollins narrowed in on immediately.

“Maybe I oughta search you, Rumlow. Sex and drugs go together don’t they?” He loomed in closer, stepping under the street light.

Brock will died as he was struck by his darkly handsome expression, stormy moss colored eyes burned into him begging him to test the limits of ‘reasonable force’.

“Maybe you oughta.”

Large hands spun him around and he found his front flush against the cold damp brick of whatever rundown building was left of him. Brock’s cheek scuffed the porous surface and he spit out a cuss that was rewarded by his forehead meeting the wall with a sickening smack.

“I don’t want to hear you, Rumlow.”

Lights blotched behind Brock’s eyes for a moment and Officer Rollins wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. Brock went pliant, feeling the warmth of a hand against his skin always felt good. Even if Jack meant him harm, it felt good right now. Brock’s eyes clenched shut, feeling Jack’s hands moving greedily over his body.

Warm fingers trailed over his flesh as his shirt was pushed up. The contrast of the cold late night air and the heat trailing along his skin left a rise of goosebumps in their wake. Brock shudder, caught in the thralls of lust and fear as the touch roamed to his lower back.

“Such a good boy, keeping quiet.” Jack’s lips grazed the flesh behind Brock’s ear and he had to swallow back his groan.

His tight pants pooled around his ankles, Jack tapping his calf with the point of his shoe lightly at first then harder when Brock didn’t widen his stance. A flush of humiliation bloomed across Brock’s skin as Jack gripped his hips, pulling his ass out. Being so exposed at the mercy of Jack left him conflicted between staying still to get it over with and fighting for his dignity.

“What a pretty bitch,” Jack groused.

“Fuck you,” Brock tried to twist away, heart jackhammering in fear and anger.

A hand wrapped around Brock’s throat, an expert grip that allowed just enough air to hiss in and out of his constricted airways if he stayed perfectly still. Brock’s cock hardened further.

“No, Rumlow.” Jack’s spit-slickened fingers traced his hole, pushing in teasingly, just the barest amount of prep possible before the blunt head of Jack’s dick pressed against him. “Fuck you.”

Brock let out a wheeze of terror and anticipation, hips shifting eagerly before Jack’s fingers clamped down bruisingly and Jack snapped his hips forward. The burning drag of the sudden intrusion had Brock’s eyes watering with a needy whine dragged out of his chest by the thrust.

“Yeah, Princess. Moan for me.” Jack huffed, the sound of his hips slapping against Brock’s hips. “Fuck, Brock.”

Brock arched his back as Jack’s head dragged against the spot inside of him that sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine and to his cock. They were falling apart fast, Jack’s pace becoming hurried. Brock groaned with ever thrust, teeth grit as his balls tightened. “I’m gonna…”

“Me too,” Jack panted, hands tightening to cut off air completely. “Fuck, Brock. You’re so beautiful baby.”

Brock was swimming, riding the tide of pleasure and the hazy heady sensation of his orgasm. When reality came back, he was in Jack’s arms who was kissing the smudge like marks blooming on his throat. “So?” Jack asked when he was coherent, walking back to his parked car. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“More than you’d know Jackie.”

“Good, I don’t risk getting nailed for public indecency for just anyone.” Jack opened the door him and Brock rolled his eyes fondly at the gesture. “Sorry I forgot the lube.”

“It kinda added to whole set up,” Brock got comfortable as Jack rounded the car. Pleasant feelings still buzzed through his veins as he rested his head against the seat.

Jack slipped in and they fell into a comfortable silence. “Helluva way to go into vacation,” Jack grinned and Brock laughed.

“I might need to keep my hooker clothes in case we do that again,” he hedged.

“When we do that again,” Jack corrected.

Yes, Brock had definitely found the one.

#tw: noncon #sort of #my writings #brock rumlow #jack rollins #hydra husbands

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morphituu · 5 years

Text

Bell Peppers Ch. 17 (Final)

“Endlessly”

Archive of Our Own: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17

tumblr: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15- 16 - 17

She watched him over the tops of her glasses, unmoving, and staring critically at it placed on the countertop beside where she perched on the edge of his tub. Her eyes moved around, her ankles shifting over one another, but he still didn’t move, even when she cleared her throat.

“You haven’t blinked in like a minute,” she stated, and his eyes finally shot to her.

“It’s only been a minute?” he asked, shoulders slumping. She nodded, glancing down at her phones timer.

His hands pulled down his face with a low groan, sliding down the wall until he landed on the tile floor.

“Longest three minutes of your life, huh?” she simpered, seemingly unconcerned. He nodded, his head bouncing back against the wall. “It’s gonna be negative, don’t worry,”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, I just wanna know,”

“Minute and a half left,” she sighed, flipping her phone in her hands.

Nick looked over her, picturing a distended belly beneath her T-shirt and popped shorts, wondering how off balance she’d be what with her short stature. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, smothering the thought. Since that morning, he’d let his imagination get the better of him, all the way to the drug store to pick up the pregnancy test then all the way home, and now here, waiting endlessly for it to finish.

“Done,” she said, quickly grabbing for the test.

He rushed to her side clumsily, and they both stared down at the negative test.

“Told you,” she murmured, obviously deflated and handing it to him. He studied it closely, turning it this way and that, thinking maybe it could’ve been a trick of the light. “My only chance came and went,” she added, and he looked at her.

“You don’t know that,” he tried, tossing the used test in the trash.

“Feels like it,” she mumbled, but Nick caught her arm when she moved to walk out, and brought her into a tight hug, kissing her cheek in attempt at eradicating the visible frown on her face.

“It’ll happen, baby,” he assured, squeezing her until she returned the gesture.

“Kinda thought it would’ve been inevitable with how much we did it this week,” she said into his chest. “All that mess’a blood for nothing,”

He chuckled. “Still worth it,”

“Gonna start coming after me every time I’m on my period now?”

Impishly he nibbled her jaw. Another forceful kiss under the partly healed bruise on her face, and he let her go, smacking her ass before walking out. “Okay let’s eat now,”

Callie followed him out sluggishly, bumping into him when they wandered into the kitchen. With little energy, she went about throwing a breakfast together, often slumping against Nick when he stepped in to help. He’d chuckle and curl an arm around her neck, dragging her around as they shuffled between stovetop and fridge, and even took both their plates packed with chorizo con huevos and tortillas, his elbow still hooked around her neck as he pulled her over to his new table.

“When’s your job interview?” he asked, stuffing a hearty bite into his mouth.

“Tuesday,” she said around a mouthful of food, opening a cold can of soda. “I’m nervous as fuck,”

“You’re gonna own that shit. Do those big number equations in your head and I bet they’ll hire you on the spot,” he grinned.

“Computers do everything at banks now- they wouldn’t need my hidden talent,”

“But how often do they have a human computer that can double check their work?” he tried, bumping his knee against hers. She smiled, smacking his arm lightly.

“I need to go buy some cover-up. Can’t go in with a black eye,”

Nick nodded, sucking his teeth, and now expertly pinching a bite of the chorizo with his tortilla. She was perking up a bit now, like he knew she would when she found the Dr. Pepper he’d stashed for her in the fridge, but sensed unloading his next big surprise might send her reeling into panic.

“So you said earlier that Rosie canceled tomorrow?” Nick asked, and Callie rolled her eyes.

“I knew she wasn’t gonna go through with it- I’m getting my money back for those tickets,”

Nick swallowed his bite. “Keep the day open then,”

Her brow kicked up. “Why?”

“My parents wanna come over,”

Outwardly, she remained calm, but inside he knew she was frantic- like a person caught in a house on fire. She looked at her food, poking it absentmindedly with her tortilla. “So I need to buy cover-up today,”

“You don’t have to,” he told her. “They know what happened,”

“With me?”

“Everything. They’ve been asking how you’re doing-”

“Wait,” she interrupted. “Even the miscarriage?”

“I told them,” he stated, and she retracted, leaning back in her chair.

“You said you wouldn’t,”

“I couldn’t lie about it. Felt like it’d be a slap in the face to you- like it’d be disregarding something you battled through,” he explained.

She twisted her thumb in her other palm nervously. “How’d they take it?”

“They were pissed. They’ve been on my ass about dying without grandkids for years so when they heard it, they were about as angry as you. And they’re also very sorry,” he relayed, playing with her lithe fingers. “My mom asks about you a lot,”

Callie grinned. “Grandma by nature?”

He nodded. “Little ball of love like you,”

With a steadying breath and her shoulders rolling away some of the nervousness, she seemed to be capable of this next step in their relationship that admittedly should’ve happened months ago. She moved her hair from her cheeks, her fringe pinned back by her glasses still, and carefully poked her healing cheek.

“Doesn’t look too bad?” she asked, and he shook his head, flashing a goofy grin.

“You’re pretty no matter what,”

Another slap on his arm, and she spun her soda between her palms. “What’re they like?”

Nick leaned back in his chair now, exhaling as he chewed. “Mom comes off as mean at first, but she’s just a quiet observer, I think is the best way to put it. Really hard worker, never really takes days off. Can be super blunt, but crack her open and she’s really the best mom. Put up with all my shit and never complained,” he told her with a small smirk.

It warmed Callie’s heart to see him speak so affectionately of his mom; clearly he’d been raised right. “And your dad?”

He rolled his eyes. “Smart- like really smart, but never short for some kind of raunchy joke,” Nick explained. “But he’s a gentle giant. The kind of person who can walk up to anyone from any walk of life and start a conversation,”

“You sound more like your mom than your dad,” she simpered, and he nodded in agreeance.

“Got my mom’s height, too,” he grumbled.

“You’re still my big guy,” she toyed, reaching to playfully trace the shell of his ear. It twitched, his cheeks turning a darker shade as he gently slap her hand away. “So I suppose we should stop by the store when we’re out today,”

“Yeah, after we go to the station though,” he stuffed the last bite in his mouth. “Don’t know how long it’ll take,”

“How convincing did you sound when your captain called?”

“There’s no doubt in my mind that he has some suspicions about the whole thing. I genuinely forgot to act surprised when he called- in my head I was like ‘yeah I know he got the shit beat out of him,” Nick snickered, carrying their plates to the kitchen.

“Did they tell you where he is now?” She followed him in.

“Nah, we should get those details about that today,”

“But we won’t have to actually see him right?”

“No, not at all. They only want our statements,” he reassured, holding her face when she looked here and there nervously. “There’s no chance he could show up after those blows you landed,”

She snorted softly, her head dropped and walking into his chest for a hug. Nothing else besides the anxiousness he could smell coming out of her pores showed her apprehension, and it started to affect him. He knew they’d be in separate rooms for their questioning- how would she handle it without him?

“Should we go and get this over with then? Make it a date afterwards?” he asked against her hair, and kissed her lips when she looked up at him with a quick nod. “Noodles for lunch?”

“Oh fuck yeah.” She grinned, another kiss, and the two of them moved to his room.

It was decided that it was best for Callie to wear a long sleeve over her blood stained cast, despite their best efforts to wash it out with hydrogen peroxide. It bothered her some- every time she reached for something or twisted her arm, she had to pull it back down, and that in itself could raise suspicions.

But with them both bundled and clad in black to avoid any extra attention drawn to them, Callie held Nick’s hand in her lap nervously as he drove, often looking at her from behind his dark Clubmasters to find her knee bouncing or adjusting her glasses nervously, repeatedly cleaning the lenses. All the way to the station, and when they stood beside his truck after parking, he reassured she’d be okay and there was no part of Gerrald she’d have to face that day.

She clung to him in a fleeting hug before finally inhaling deeply and grabbing his hand tightly as he lead her to the front, her shield against the bad that inevitably awaited inside.

Her face remained angled down while her eyes did the back and forth, recognizing faces she’d seen sneer or glare before. But now people looked in confused awe, probably not having expected to see the Orc no one liked who was beaten within an inch of his life walking through the front lobby, a fiercer glare across his scarred features to ward anyone off.

It occurred to Callie that looking so weak and beaten beside him would only draw more assumptions, so she lifted her chin, her hand sliding up his arm to hold securely as they approached the front desk.

“Jakoby,” the woman in uniform acknowledged, her platinum blonde locks pulled back into a sleek bun.

“Here for Heig,” he only answered, hanging his sunglasses over his collar. I’m here to talk to no one but Heig, was what his tone really said though, and Callie squeezed his arm, enormously proud of her Orc.

The tall woman, McCann, only nodded absently as she moved away, leaving the couple at the counter to wait. A few more were still there, looking on how they figured was covertly, but Nick only flashed a passing glance with a cocked brow, unbothered as long as he didn’t hear them utter any foul words in regards to Callie.

“You alright?” she asked lowly, and he nodded, still doing once overs of the area.

“Forgot how welcoming this place is,” he mumbled, and she snickered.

“Jakoby,”

They both turned, and there was Heig, followed by investigators in bland suits, files and folders in hand. That was when Callie tensed beside him, and he rubbed her back, silently comforting her.

“Sir,”

“Gonzales here will accompany Miss Flores for her statement and I with you and Amar,” Heig instructed, stepping aside so the Hispanic detective with lines beside his eyes from smiling could greet her.

“Miss Flores, pleasure to meet you,” he introduced himself calmly, clasping his other hand over hers when he shook. Callie only nodded, and Nick kissed her head before she followed Gonzales to one of the private rooms, twisting her palm around her thumb nervously. Nick wanted to run after her, but knew she’d be okay. It would most likely end in an anxious night at home after their visit, but Callie was strong. She could handle this on her own, he told himself.

It all started from the beginning. Back to when Nick and Gerrald had any sort of contact, even passing comments when his attacker had first joined the force. There was no specific time they could pinpoint when the harassment turned from bothersome to hostile, but from the statement Callie gave them, he could’ve been planning this for years.

Judging by charges on Gerrald’s hidden credit cards from his wife, he’d been a frequenter of Two Hands and from Jakes willingness to provide details and documents, he’d booked private dances from Callie at least once a week when she was still a regular working there, which was 4 years ago. Booths were dark, and dancers kept their distance. All this time she’d performed for him, unknowing of the obsession he held for her. Years and years, building a covet unbeknownst to everyone; a dangerous, sick fascination verified by kept receipts upon receipts of his visits to her club. Who knows how many times he could’ve followed her home or lingered nearby, unnoticed.

The catalyst was Callie’s visit to the precinct that first time, and Nick could remember his face perfectly.

What he thought was a sour, defeated glare was actually, probably, one of glaring realization that by some astral and amazing coincidence, Nick had scored the girl he so desired. Gerrald couldn’t stand seeing his favorite dancer in the arms of the Orc he despised, and it sent him over.

Verified, and to Nick’s dismay, Gerrald had started to lash out at his wife and children. Screaming, breaking things, disappearing for days at a time and always with a chunk of their money withdrawn from the bank. Money that had been given to the Belye Volki in return for their muscle. The same muscle that had been used to attempt Nick’s murder. As long as money kept rolling in with the aid of his police connections, the rival Orcs gladly sent their biggest.

Gerrald only showed his face when his chance at getting his hands on Callie presented itself, resulting in her injuries and the death of their albeit very young fetus. But that brought a new edge to the charges they were pressing: manslaughter on top of attempted, and assault, not to mention breaking and entering and the class 2 felony he faced for stealing guns from the station.

By then, it had all come together. The long obsession, the careful planning, and the attacks. Hours later, and Callie and Nick had given every detail they could recall, but admittedly and horribly given their best shocked response when news ‘broke’ that Gerrald had been the victim of a grizzly attack, by unknown assailants, of course.

Heig, judging by the way he studied Nick and had questioned any involvement he might’ve had with Fogteeth, obviously had suspicions when the Orc denied having any knowledge of Gerrald’s deadly attack, but couldn’t withhold commenting on his delight knowing he got what was coming.

But it was all written, and recorded, and with a final signature, Nick rose to scope out Callie when he was told they’d be in shortly to discuss further details.

She was also finished by the time he found her, and she visibly relaxed when she turned to see him walking in, kissing her head and then forehead as he sat beside her. Any little boosts he could give, he would.

“If I’d known we were gonna be here for 2 hours I would’ve taken them up on that drink offer,”

“Don’t- the sodas here are like 2 years old,” he teased, eliciting a giggle from her. “You doing okay?” he asked.

“Um… yeah. I don’t know how to handle knowing he’s been around for so long and I didn’t know, but I’m generally okay. They didn’t tell me where he is now, though,”

“They will when they come back in,”

“Are they compiling evidence?” she asked.

“At the copying machine actually,”

“Wait what?”

The door opened behind him, and Heig along with the three dressed investigators came in, all either sitting or standing on the other side of the table and handing over their own packets.

“These are copies of your statements and the case number attached,” Heig explained, and Nick bumped her knee with his. “Jakoby you know what happens next,”

“Yes sir,” Nick nodded, thumbing through the pages.

“But you don’t,” he looked at Callie, lacing his fingers together before him. “Both of your statements with additional statements and evidence will be sent off to a prosecutor's office and once they review it, it’ll be determined whether or not there’s sufficient enough evidence to send off to a judge for an arrest warrant,”

“How long does that take?” Callie asked.

“About 3 days,” Nick answered, and she glanced at him before looking back at Heig.

“And Gerrald? Where is he?” she pressed, tensing.

“Hospital. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon,”

“Give me a number,” Callie demanded, and Heig sighed.

“I can’t release that information to you-”

“And what if he gets out and isn’t charged with anything?” she lashed out, panic rising in her blood.

“He will be,” Heig maintained, and Callie reclined some, having not realized she was on the verge of standing. “I can’t say how it’ll hold up in court or when that could happen, but this is more than enough,” he explained, and Nick was a bit surprised. From all people, his racist-ass Captain seemed more or less in Nick’s favor of the situation.

“So go home and wait for the call. And I expect to see your ass here on Tuesday without a doctors note.” Heig pointed at Nick, and he nodded, fighting back an aggravated sigh.

Nick stood before Callie did, grabbing the reports and ushering her out of the office, both eager to be done with this visit.

“I really thought he wasn’t gonna be an asshole this time,” Callie said through the corner of her mouth, and Nick snorted.

“Surprised he didn’t slap cuffs on me for being the victim,” Nick came back, Callie now snorting. “Lunch now?”

“Yes and then we can walk it off at the store.”

He was pulling his sunglasses from his shirt when his line of vision met another Orc, clad in the infamous 79 and standing with a couple others at the front, speaking with one of the receptionists. Ernie- he’d been on Nick and Callie’s patrol team quite a few times. A quiet Orc, never one to really tag along in the jokes they’d made when Nick was in the thick of his heat.

It was natural now to raise his arm and bump his forearm with other Fogteeth, nodding at one another before they went back to their business.

The sparse cops around the lobby watched, confused, their eyes lingering as Nick walked with Callie under his arm. It would’ve come out eventually, but until they had any hard evidence, no one could persecute Nick for being Fogteeth.

↠

Her hands skipped over the clearance items, snatching a bottle of bouillon. They shuffled mostly, already exhausted from navigating a supercenter earlier that day and stuffed from pho, and often either of them would stop and stand with a hard exhale, and arms hung, ready to sit down and succumb to the food coma.

“What if he wanders out and attacks us in a delusional state?” Callie asked, waiting beside Nick at the meat deli with a basket hung on her arm. “I’ve heard that when people aren’t completely conscious that they’re stronger,”

“He looked like hamburger when we left,” Nick intoned, critically eyeing the choices before him before pointing to a pile of thick steaks, asking for 2 pounds. She hmph-d, chewing her inner lip.

“What if there’s still other Orcs he hired?” she whispered, and he dropped the bag of meat into the basket.

“They won’t do anything without pay,” Nick pulled her along, tossing in spices she didn’t recognize and a few packs of spiral noodles, trading the heavying basket for a long baguette. “Volki aren’t the most efficient but they’re never ones to make themselves known. They know they’re compromised and if anything, Gerrald will be their target for the exposure, not us,”

She pursed her lips, following sluggishly until he had his arm around her waist, tugging her along.

“Three days,” she scoffed.

“And then it’s gonna be off to a judge, and everyday that passes we’re safer, so calm down, okay? Nothing else can happen,” he implored, bumping her chin with his knuckles.

“Am I annoying you?”

“No but you’re tormenting yourself. We did everything we can and that fucker very well might never walk again. You saw how crooked his legs are, and baby,” he pulled her a little closer. “His jaw was barely hanging on when you were done with him,”

She fought the little smirk, hitting his firm chest. “I wasn’t exactly done with him,”

He cackled and kissed her cheek, keeping her in his hold as they wound up and down the isles of the supermarket, grabbing items for the dinner the following day and snacks. It was nice to return to some kind of normality, but a heavy thought saddled Callie’s mind despite the wide smile splayed across her face when they’d whisper jokes or pick at one another.

Nick would return to work, healed, and Callie would return home. If anything, they’d still spend most of their time together, but why did it feel like she would never see him again? Had she grown so comfortable at his house, in his company all day and night? How lonely would her bed feel without him there? Even when she was sleeping on his couch, he was so close. Could she ask to spend the night as often- was he looking forward to having his own space back?

She shook the intrusive thoughts. All that would change is returning to everyday life, hopefully with a new job under her belt.

“What exactly are you making for tomorrow?” she asked, peering into the basket after he grabbed two thick stalks of leeks.

“S’like a creamy, meaty pasta dish. Orc staple,” he grinned.

“How come you’ve never made it for me? Huh?” she poked her elbow into his side.

“Cause you don’t like these,” he retorted, grabbing a few fat cap mushrooms. She rambled out disgusted, blubbering mumbles as her hands drew in, veering a few steps away as he tried to hand them to her playfully. He went about picking the more favorable ones as she wandered on, her hands ghosting over veggies.

When her touch slid across firm peppers, she grinned, turning to find him pulling a bag from the spinner.

“You know, I’m still waiting on my truck load of bell peppers,” she pressed, dropping one of each into the bag.

He frowned with his brows kicked up. “Stop by Costco and fill the bed up,” he said smartly, earning a light smack on his arm. “Need more time,”

“More than a year?” she asked, and he blinked.

“It’s been almost a year already?”

“10 months in a couple weeks,”

He followed as she moved backwards, flicking her head to toss aside her fringe that was in need of a trim. He couldn’t see her eyes as well anymore. But watching her move away brought him back to a humid night in the dead middle of summer, and her once long hair whipping around her freckled cheeks as the waves crashed below them at the Santa Monica pier, the glimmer in her brilliant eyes lighting up the night.

“Good thing I have you before I turn my back on the world,”

Callie closed the gap between them, and he had her sides just as she’d stretched to kiss him. “Always.” she devoted softly, kissing him again.

10 months from then to now, and nothing in his unwavering intensity for her had lessened or changed, and through it all, she’d remained at his side, even when the world had seemed to tear them apart.

Nick was gazing at her, he knew it, but he couldn’t help the incredible blessing he felt washing over him. How had he been so lucky to land Callie?

“Couple more months and I can ask you to move in,” he said softly.

Her heart thundered, and she suppressed a wide, relieved smile. “I still have 8 months left on my lease,”

“I’ll ask again in 8 months then,” he caught up to her, holding her tight to his side. “Until then I’ll fill our garden with bell peppers,”

“A lifetime's worth,” she grinned, and met him halfway for a kiss.

“Only if you stick around that long,” he kissed quickly against her temple.

“My god just propose already,” she toyed dramatically, and he tugged on a lock of her hair to silence her, but only evoked a string of giggles. “Okay let’s go home, I want out of this bra,” she grunted, wiggling her arms against her chest. “Bandage is itchy as hell.”

They didn’t leave without a six-pack of Modelo’s; it was Callie’s turn to choose the ale, but only smirked when Nick groaned. They ambled through the long check-out lines they never could seem to avoid, bumping each other back and forth lazily with the basket in Nick’s grasp. The cashier looked at Callie sympathetically when she moved her glasses down to count her change and hand it to him, but Nick just scoffed. No longer did the need to prove himself alarm in his heart. He was done trying to be friends with a world no one wanted him a part of.

But accepting that was easier. Why did he need the thrill of a nod from a stranger instead of a glare if he had Callie, and Ward, even a few friends by his side? Could passing hello’s from strangers like he wasn’t branded a freak ever match up to what he had in front of him?

He watched Callie, chatting idly with an older woman bagging her items beside her, a small smile curling her full lips.

Nearly 10 months of bliss, and fighting, and misery and blood… but such a deep, and endless love.

Next 100 years would be easy.

Right?

↠

“I’m so full,” Nick exclaimed, his head craned back as he waddled from the kitchen with Callie behind him, at last pulling the loose shirt off her body to give the sore bite under her breast some time to breathe.

“Not in the mood for desert?” she said against his skin, her arms thrown around his waist. He chuckled as they made it to his bed before he spun and threw her against the mattress, crawling after her.

Callie pulled him down with a smile, peppering his face with sweet kisses as he grunted and shifted over her before finally flopping on his side.

“Too full,” he groaned, but caressed her thigh when she rolled, holding her cinched waist.

“Why did you let me eat so much?” she groused, and he snorted.

“I can’t be held responsible for that,”

“Cause you were stuffing your face too,” she giggled, shrieking when he dug his fingers into her ribs. He let up quickly knowing if he watched her uncovered boobs jiggle around too much he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from finding his way in. “You bastard,” she said sleepily, and sighed when he massaged her hip, moving down her thigh and back up.

The bruises on her stomach were finally improving, but that meant darkening before they’d eventually fade. He traced the edges of them around her belly button, catching the length of her scar on his journey, and folding his hand to trace circles with his knuckles against the spot a bump would’ve started to show if she’d still been pregnant.

Nick pulled his hand back.

To anyone else, there was so much wrong with her. Cuts, bruises, a cast- yet she seemed so unfazed by it all. It seemed to only hold her thoughts hostage when she’d catch sight of her flat stomach in the mirror, or when she was washing her face, her touch lingering over the gash on her lip or temple. Not to mention the considerable worsening of her vision; she could hardly text now without her arms outstretched.

The soft graze of fingertips against her chin cracked her eyes, and she gave him a lopsided grin with her face pressed into the sheet, her brows twitching in discomfort when the gash on her lip stung. He traced her bruised jaw, endearment stirring the warmth in his heart when she held his knuckles against her lips, kissing softly.

Callie pulled his hand under her chin, the fingers of her casted hand lacing awkwardly with his as she scooted closer across the mattress.

Their foreheads touched, and his hand slid across her cheek to push her hair away.

She held his hands there, sighing in content when his thumbs caressed under her eyes, featherlight over the blemish.

“This is nice,” she whispered, the two lost amongst the blankets scattered about their bodies.

“Mhm,” he hummed. His heart fluttered, watching her blink into focus on him, pulling his thumb to kiss his palm. “You’re so beautiful,”

“Your face looks better than mine,” she rasped, burying her face farther into his hand.

He shook his head, wiggling so they were up against one another. “You’re always so beautiful,”

“Shut uuup,” she whined, hiding her face.

“Nah lemme look at you,”

“That’s not creepy at all,” she rolled onto her other side, but he scooted over, pulling her back against his chest and smooching her shoulder.

“I’m imagining what our kids would look like,”

She paused, and for a split second he thought he’d over-stepped, but she shimmied onto her back, looking up at him. “I think about it all the time,”

“Yeah?” he asked, resting on his elbow. She nodded.

“I wonder who’s nose it would’ve had, or if it would’ve looked more human than Orc, but I’m pretty sure it would’ve had your eyes,” she explained. “And your ears… probably your nose too- I think they would’ve looked nothing like me, honestly,”

“A boy would’ve looked like you,”

“That means you’d make pretty girls,” she mumbled, and then her brows curved up. “Oh my god can you imagine having little daughters chasing after you? Calling you daddy?”

“Okay stop,” he whined, dropping his face against her chest. Now she pulled him in tightly, caressing the back of his head as he embraced her. He stared down at the fresh bite, tempted to pull his touch over it but knew it must’ve been tender as hell.

“Nick, what if I can’t ever give you a baby?” she asked suddenly.

“Don’t go there,”

“I’m serious-”

“Don’t,” he leaned over her, clapping a hand over her mouth, her brows furrowing slightly. “Don’t do that to yourself. It’ll happen but even if it never does that doesn’t mean I’d be less inclined to follow you wherever you go the rest of my life,”

She mumbled something unintelligible, but still he nodded, removing his hand. “Yes, we can adopt 10 pitbulls if it doesn’t work out,” he assured, and despite a gloss filming over her eyes, she grinned, holding his face.

“You’re so perfect,”

“Oh stop,” he kissed her, moaning when she curled around his neck. “Wait,”

She waited, one of her thighs already having slid between his.

He thought over his words before speaking. “I don’t want to actively… try, until we know he’s behind bars,”

“Oh- duh, Jesus I thought you were gonna drop a bomb in my lap,” she exhaled, moving her hair from her face.

Another kiss, and he was sitting up on his knees, parting her legs until he found his place between them. She turned boneless in his hold, her body arching deliciously as he pulled from underneath her, bringing her chest carefully against his open mouth.

“Isn’t this actively trying?” she breathed, rubbing his shoulders as he swirled his tongue around a standing nipple.

“Think of it as not not trying,” he said quickly, rocking forward to catch her lips in another lock. “Is that okay?”

She nodded eagerly, yanking him over her, her hips raising to meet his in a firm rut. He chuffed against her jaw, giving into a few leisure thrusts with her body raised like that. “It’s gonna happen, Cal,” he paused, holding her jaw gently. “I’m gonna give you a kid one day.”

“I’m holding you to it.” she grinned, and exclaimed when he rolled, admiring her body as she moved above him.

She’d gone back and forth between the kitchen and table at least 5 times since he’d been standing there for no more than 3 minutes, and he suspected it’d keep happening until he resorted tying her to a chair.

Callie was at the table, poking the tableware into neater arrangements, glancing nervously at him and flashing her best ‘don’t-worry-I-won’t-have-panic-attack-in-front-of-your-parents-but-I’ll-have-five-beforehand’ smile. And here she came, back into the kitchen to peer over his arm and down at the simmering pan.

“I keep stopping myself from telling you it looks done cause I have no idea how to cook this,” she rattled, leaning her butt against the countertop to steal some sips from his beer, most likely. Hers had been thrown back hours ago, when she was only a fraction of the nerves she was now.

“Give it about 10 more minutes,” he nodded, setting the spoon beside the pan. “But you need to calm down. They’re gonna think you’re high on something with how fast you’re moving,”

“Pfft I wish I was high at this point,” she groaned, pushing her hands back through her hair. “I don’t even know why I’m so nervous, it’s not like I’m guilty of something,”

“Yeah they’d smell that,” he joked, and she looked at him, horror paling her face.

“Oh my god they’re gonna smell that we fucked last night!” She cried, holding her own cheeks. “They’re gonna know I was upside down!”

He shrugged indifferently, weighing his hands. “You were more folded than anything-“

“They’re gonna think I’m a skank for having sex after just losing a baby,” she complained into her palms, and Nick chuffed.

“See now you’re just making bad assumptions,”

Callie looked up at him, and frowned, dropping her gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,”

“It’s fine. But you seriously need to calm down. I can’t keep giving you beer,” he grinned, opening his arms for a tight hug. Callie rushed into him fast enough that he almost lost balance, but with a good squeeze, she was already calming and reaching under his hold to pick up the spoon and stir the creamy food.

A round of solid knocks on his door had her spinning in his arms, and he squeezed her shoulders with a kiss to her cheek. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She followed slowly as he walked to the front door, opening it calmly after shooting her an encouraging, goofy grin.

“Hey Ma,” he said happily.

“Yah, ‘hey Ma’ like you invite us over enough to act all non-chalan,” she stepped inside, the colorful head wrap fanning around her shoulders like silky hair pairing beautifully with the burgundy sweater she wore. Her accent was definite and Callie was surprised she was donning a Russian one at that. She smacked his shoulder when he opened his arms to hug her, so he pouted, his ears twitching, but nevertheless she hugged her son securely. “How’re you feeling, ukmall?”

“It’s nonchalant- I’m better. Hi dad,” Nick unwound from his concerned mother to quickly hug his dad, who from a fleeting, previous glance before, was much taller than Nick. Callie stiffened when his head turned right towards her, looking at her through glasses similar to Nick’s Clubmasters.

No wonder he liked those so much…

“Hello there,” he also had an accent, but not nearly as thick as his mothers. He moved past Nick whose mouth opened to protest, but it was too late. “I’m Oleg, I’m assuming you’re Callie,” Oleg grabbed her hand to shake gently, clasping his other over their connected palms, and she had to remind herself to shake back as she literally looked up at him.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you-,”

“Come, come meet Nick’s mother,” he gently pulled her along with a wide hand on her back. Nick shrugged as she passed, a playful frown on his face.

“This is Dinara-”

“I can introduce my’own, Oleg,” Dinara snapped, but he only smiled sheepishly, his impressive tusks flashing. Her bright golden eyes softened when flickering back to Callie, and she took Callie’s hand from her husbands, simply cradling it. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Calista,”

“I’m so happy to meet you too,” Callie replied sweetly, observing the sudden shift from ferocity to reserved concern.

“After months and months apparently,” Dinara turned on her son, motioning her hand in anger in his direction.

“Ma come on,” Nick groaned, head cocking and eyes rolling. Oleg snickered, and Nick elbowed him, sparking a playful glare-off between them.

“Think she was gonna eat her alive like the other ones, ah?” his dad teased, and Callie’s brow cocked.

“Other… ones?” she asked hesitantly.

“You make me sound like a monster,” Dinara hissed.

“He said it!” Nick defended.

“It’s okay, human doesn’t taste that good,” Oleg said lowly as he passed, but winced and exclaimed when Dinara smacked the back of his head. “Hispanic might not be as bland though-”

“DAD,” Nick hollered, stepping towards Callie who was biting back a wide smile with her fingertips against her lips as she watched his parents move into his house, and how Dinara chewed him out quietly in Orkish, but he was only a tower of laughter as he lovingly held his wife's shoulders.

“That’s them,” Nick muttered.

“I expected different from what you told me.” she grinned.

“I told you exactly what to expect.” he shrugged, motioning to follow him into the kitchen.

“You’re lucky he’s calm now. When he was a child? Couldn’t keep him still. He’d climb trees and run into traffic,” Dinara recounted, her hands animated and motioning as she recounted old stories of Nick’s younger days.

“And he would fight other kids! He was a little animal,” Oleg said around a mouthful of food.

“Okay you said I was 4 when that happened,” Nick tried defending himself, his knife pointed at Oleg.

“4, 16- what’s the difference?” his dad grinned. “Couldn’t handle another demon like him. One and done,”

Callie chuckled. “Where’d all that feistiness go?” she asked, pushing him a little.

“Left it behind in my twenties,” Nick mumbled, chuffing when Callie rubbed his arm.

“Ai, mi viejo,” she cooed, but he pushed her back, scooping his food into a bite.

“What’s that?” Dinara asked.

“My old man,” Callie answered, earning a flat glare from Nick and a booming laugh from Oleg.

“What’re you laughing at, you fossil?” Dinara defended him, and Oleg’s face scowled some.

“I’m still in good shape for 77- Callie would agree,” he retorted, puffing his chest and squaring his shoulders.

“Really? 77?” Callie asked, eyes wide in amazement. His parents both nodded, Oleg sitting up proudly.

“Wanna know something interesting though?” Oleg asked, and Nick raised his fork the same time Dinara flicked his hand.

“Oleg-”

“Orcs perform 20 years younger in bed. He should still be going like he’s in his twenties, ah? Smell it in here like the 70’s,” Oleg harassed mercilessly, smiling, warding off Dinara’s attacks as he tormented his son who had his face buried in his palms. Callie followed suit, hiding, but giggling madly. She knew they’d know how active their sex life was, but didn’t expect to be called out so harshly.

“Can we be done with the embarrassing stories?” Nick whined, finally uncovering his flushed face and throwing back the rest of his beer.

“Ahh, you have no humor, boy,” Oleg groused, evoking an argument between the two that Dinara wanted nothing to do with, so she turned to Callie.

“Callie,” she said, and Cal looked at her, lowering her drink. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m- I’m good,” she grinned.

“I mean how are you feeling?” she asked again, and for the first time that night, she could feel her looking at the bruises coating her features instead of Callie as a whole, and assumed she was asking generally about her condition.

“Um…” Callie pondered, swirling the drink in her glass. “I go back and forth,” she started, and Nick had stopped bickering with his father to look at her, listening quietly. “Some days I feel okay and others I feel like I did something wrong, and that guilt won’t lessen,”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Nick said quietly, and she shrugged indifferently.

“Can’t help how I feel,”

“It’s not strange,” Dinara commented, her chin rested atop her knuckles, her small shoulders drawn in. “A piece of you was taken away,”

Nick ran his hand down the back of her hair when Callie looked down, leaning over to kiss her cheek without waver.

“Ahh, you must see the squishy side of our son quite often,” Oleg cooed, and Nick’s head snapped in his direction to glower.

“Squishy?” Callie repeated, relieved the subject was shifting. But with a final glance in Dinara’s direction, her warm eyes said everything she might’ve wanted to say before her husband interrupted. Only compassion and understanding came from that look and small nod, and Callie wondered what she had ever been worried about in the first place.

“He’s such a grump- never showed any kind of affection for his other girlfriends. He’d sit there like a plank, wouldn’t even hold their hands or smile,”

“Those little witches didn’t even bother chewing with their mouths closed,” Dinara added in quickly.

“How many did you bring to meet?” Callie asked, eyeing Nick suspiciously.

“Okay first of all-” Nick started.

“Ffffour…?” Oleg counted, thinking back critically.

“Shut up. None of them lasted more than a month,”

“Hama was the worst. Her tusks were nearly black and she drew on crooked eyebrows,” Dinara shuddered, and Nick was hiding his face again as Callie leaned in, completely enthralled.

“There was Glasha,” Oleg held up two fingers now.

“Kept calling him Opal,” Dinara exclaimed, jabbing her thumb in Oleg’s direction.

“Shel,”

“Shel was mean,” Nick said, despite hiding. “She ghosted me after I told her I wanted to be a cop,”

“Well I can’t blame her entirely for that one,” Dinara mumbled, and Nick’s arms raised in defeat, leaning back in his chair.

“Here we go again…”

“Why do you want to stand up for a people who look at you like you’re infected?” his mother questioned, inclining over the edge of the table.

“None of the reasons you think I wanted to,” Nick snapped, crossing his arms.

“What about you, Calista? You mind if he’s the Orc cop?”

Callie faltered a bit, but looking at Nick’s downcast eyes and stiff shoulders stirred the protectiveness in her heart, even if it was his own mother berating him.

“I don’t mind, actually. I never saw Nick as just an Orc, or just a cop, or the Orc cop. He’s always just been Nick to me,” she explained, nervously reaching for his hand under the table. “I worry about him all the time, but I think Nick will bring change with him where he goes. I think it’s only a matter of time before people gain courage like him and start pursuing dreams that are usually unreachable,”

Callie’s cheeks heated when it remained silent, but Nick had pulled her hand into his lap and squeezed, silently thanking her.

“You look like the bad guy now,” Oleg whispered loudly to Dinara, and she smacked his hand again as he chuckled.

“I suppose I do,” Dinara sighed, holding her own cheek. “I worry for you, ukmall. What if something happens to you when you have children?”

“Then I’m really not gonna let anything happen,” Nick replied coolly. “Especially not to any of my kids,”

“Planning a family already?” Oleg asked, taking another massive bite of the food.

Callie and Nick looked at one another. Callie smirked, almost unnoticeable, and he did too.

“I want all boys. Bunch’a little Nick’s running around,” she simpered, and Nick kissed her hand, rolling his eyes when Oleg whined ‘Awww’.

“You wouldn’t be bothered having Orc children?” Dinara asked, and when Callie’s eyes flashed to hers, she couldn’t restrain some of her annoyance. Ultimately, she understood his mother's hesitance to let anyone near her son who’d received bitter lashings most of his life, but also wished she understood that Callie felt the same way. She didn’t want anyone near Nick who could harm him, and her heart had decided long ago that there would be no other she wanted raising her children then him, assuming she could eventually bare life.

“Halflings deal with twice the normal hate than Orcs,” Dinara added.

“Mom,” Nick said firmly, but his mother was resolute.

“You wouldn’t be bothered having hafling grandchildren?” Callie bit back hotly, but Nick saw her knee bouncing. That was a wide leap to make.

Dinara nodded, the corner of her mouth finally kicking up a bit. “Good girl. Teeavh ukavayun barun,”

Callie’s brows flickered in confusion, but Nick and Oleg’s satisfied nods silenced her. Something was transpiring here, and she didn’t want to ruin it.

“Expect your kids to be tiny assholes like this one, though.” Oleg interjected, and Dinara and Nick both rolled their eyes while Callie laughed.

The conversation winded back to lighter topics as the long dinner dragged on, but after standing her ground, Dinara didn’t blister Callie with questions most likely meant to shake her foundation; to make her prove exactly where she stood beside Nick. Children didn’t come up again, but Oleg made it a point to draw out Nick’s embarrassment at any chance he could snatch, always resulting in Dinara stepping in to fend off the teasing as Nick hid away, sometimes leaning against Callie while she hid her laughter behind a napkin.

It jumped here and there, ranging from examining some of Callie’s tattoos and Dinara telling how she’d always wanted a few all the way to how Oleg had been a chiropractor before teaching at the university. “I used to smoke joints before I cracked them.” he teased, and even Nick almost shot drink from his nose when he heard that one.

Somehow they made their way to the backyard, and with sweaters wrapped tightly around their frames, the women sat at the table with mugs of tea as Nick and Oleg wandered around his garden. His dad always had something to point at and correct, which always stirred more arguing, but Dinara rolled her golden eyes and waved them away.

“Those two never end,” she groaned, sipping her tea, and looking over to Callie as she grinned at her lover. “Calista,”

“Callie, please,” she corrected.

Dinara nodded. “I’m sorry for picking at you. I could see fire spitting from Nick’s eyes everytime I asked a question,” his mother explained, looking back to her men.

“I think I’d be the same,” Callie assured.

Dinara sighed, her head tilting. “I worry about him greatly, yet somehow after years of hate and bitter humans he’s remained my sweet boy. I’ve so longed for him to find someone so he’s not lonely,” she went on softly. “I’d always tell him- just show them how kind you are, my love, and he’d say Ma, I have! Humans hate what they fear,”

“It’s true,”

“You didn’t though. You befriended my son who’s usually a wall,”

Callie giggled. “It was the other way around, actually. I don’t usually like talking to people but he was just too damn cute in that uniform,” she admitted, and Dinara laughed.

“You better not be telling her more stories,” Nick grumbled as they walked up to them, placing their own mugs on the table before flopping back into their chairs.

“You two should join the ballet with that kind of choreography,” Callie piped, and Dinara laughed again, earning sour stares from Nick and Oleg.

“You will have to rub my back tonight, I’ve eaten too much,” Oleg groaned, and Nick looked at Callie with a pout, nodding in agreeance with his father, but his silent plea was shot down with a hard shake of her head, but winked before he looked from her.

“I suppose we should go then,” Dinara declared with a sigh, looking at Nick. “I have to take care of that,” she mumbled, eyeing his father; Nick snorted.

“You act like you don’t have any use of me when just last night you were begging-”

“Oleg.” Dinara snapped, and Callie was struggling not to choke on her tea, but Nick was covering his ears, yelling at his father to shut up. Oleg didn’t seem to understand why so much trouble had suddenly befallen him, with his palms raised and the mischevioused of smiles across his face.

Dinara hugged Callie this time, her thin arms strong around Callie’s shoulders. “Make him call us.” Dinara whispered, and with a light chuckle and nod, Dinara stepped back, holding Callie’s face a chaste moment before hugging Nick.

“Take it easy on her.” Oleg winked, flinching when his wife flicked his cheek.

She thought it precious when she watched his parents walking down the path, Oleg’s elbow hooked around Dinara’s neck and her arm around his waist, chatting silently as they left.

Nick stretched fiercely as she locked the door behind them, immediately maneuvering her bra around to relieve some of the pressure on the bite.

“So?” he asked, his arms dropping.

“Your dad is fucking hilarious,” she smiled, and he rolled his eyes, pulling his hands down his face as he turned away.

“He’s a handful,”

“Nah it’s funny,” she insisted, walking into the kitchen as Nick collected the plates across the table. Before anything however, Callie pulled her bra from underneath her shirt, exhaling in great relief when the bite no longer itched manically.

“Your mom totally has that mama bear thing,” Callie mentioned. “I’ve never met a mom so protective of her baby boy,” she cracked, and he blew a raspberry as he walked back to stack the dishes beside the sink.

“She likes you- she wouldn’t have been mean if she didn’t,” he explained, and her brow cocked. “Glasha, one of the exes? When I brought her around, my mom was silent the entire time and let her go on and on, all disrespectful, and when I apologized to her she said- ‘it’s okay ukmall, she won’t be around very long anyways,’”

Callie made an ‘O’ face, giggling the more she imagined how Nick must’ve looked when his mother dropped that bomb.

“I’m glad then. I really like your mom,” she nodded. “What does ukmall mean?”

“Tiny,” he intoned, his mouth in a straight line.

“Oh! That’s like what Rosie call’s Joaquin! She calls him ‘nano’ cause he’s small,”

“I’m only small compared to some,” he guarded.

Compared to her, Nick was a thick man, given just enough height to still intimidate humans, but to other Orcs, he was rather small. It got Callie thinking, and wondering what genes would carry on to their kids, but she shook her head stiffly.

Stop getting ahead of yourself.

“So what’s next? Cousins?” she asked, rinsing the plates as Nick nibbled on the last piece of toasted bread.

“I suppose. Next family reunion. You’ll need to make a list to remember all of them and my aunties and uncles,” he chewed. “Most of the from my dads side,’

“They like him too?” she grinned, and he nodded, his eyes rolling back in exhaustion.

“All a bunch of animals,”

“So that’s where you got it from in your younger days?”

“Probably,” he threw back the last of another beer, groaning when he leaned against the counter.

There was a pause, and then she was suddenly stepping towards him to kiss his cheek, then a sweet one on his lips as he looked at her curiously.

“What’s that for?”

“I was thinking about what your mom said,” she explained, continuing with the dishes. “That when you brought your other girlfriends around you didn’t show affection, or much of anything. It made me feel like you’re really in for this,”

“I wouldn’t’ve asked you to meet my parents if I wasn’t,”

“Well what about the others? Sounded like you introduced them pretty quickly,” she eyed him.

“That was different. I was lonely,” he intoned, his arms crossing defensively.

“Didn’t have any friends back then?”

“Well sure, but not that kind of lonely,” he mumbled, searching for the right words.

“Touch starved?” she asked, and he nodded. “I get that. Before I met you I hadn’t been with anyone for like a year and some change,”

He grinned. “Found each other at the right time,”

“Wish it would’ve been sooner,” she simpered, leaning against him when he pressed to her side, his hand against the back of her neck so he could place a few kisses on her temple.

“We have time to make up for it,” he said contently.

“Long time.” she grinned, craning her head back to kiss him.

“Endlessly.”

He’d just walked into the bathroom with her favorite mug in hand, filled to the brim with hot tea as she was pulling the curler through the last lock of hair. She quickly ran her fingers through it, reaching for the hairspray to coat her head. He coughed, leaning back from the small plume of chemicals.

She fluffed the ends around her shoulders, looking back at him in the mirror.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” she asked.

“My uniform is in my locker,” he chimed, and she sighed, looking back at her reflection. “You look so pretty,”

She shrugged, pulling on the thin collared blouse before she did the black collared jacket, rolling the sleeves up to the white dress shirt beneath accented it nicely. “If I get hired there it’s gonna be expensive keeping up with the dress code,”

“Gonna miss wearing jeans and sandals?” he grinned.

“So much. At least I’ll be in air conditioning.” She smoothed her hands down her hips, over the fitted pencil skirt that brought the entire outfit together. Callie turned this way and that, constantly tugging on ends of the clothing and fixing her neat fringe, all the while Nick watched her with a grin in his pullover and sweats.

He steadied her as she slipped on her heels, even raising her hand to spin her slowly before him, holding her own face when pink dusted her cheeks. A final spin before the mirror and a flick of her head to move her hair from her eyes, and she exhaled, satisfied with her interview outfit.

“You look nervous,”

“I am for you,” she mumbled, digging in her makeup bag to pull out the deep shade of red lipstick she often wore. “Are you sure you’re okay to go back?”

“I’m okay baby. I don’t hurt anymore. Plus, I don’t think Heig would let me waltz in with anymore doctors excuses,”

“Fuckin’ dick,” she said, smoothing her lips together after applying the lipstick.

He nodded, sipping the tea he’d originally made for her. “I guess you’re heading home today after the interview?”

At first she didn’t look up when she shrugged, but eventually she turned to face him, her heels clopping against the tile. “I guess?”

He ran his tongue over his clipped tusks. “It’s gonna be weird not having you around all the time,”

“Will you still come over? Probably tonight when I inevitably get too lonely?” she asked quietly, peaking at him from behind her bangs.

“I was gonna come over anyways. It’s gonna be too empty here,” he grinned, and held her jaw delicately to kiss her a few times as she approached him. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” she grumbled, reaching to grab her bags, but he scooped them up first.

“No glasses… no, I think I’ll wear them,” she put them back on, patting her thighs a couple times. “I still can’t see,” she sighed, defeated, but couldn’t rub her eyes.

“Keep them on if they help,” he decided for her, his wrist rested over the steering wheel. A curt nod, and she fixed her tresses again before turning to him. Her big eyes were a deep, warm ocean of worry, and it in turn made him frown.

“Baby,” he whined.

“Text me? When you can and be safe?” she croaked, clutching his hand tightly. He pulled her over the center console, kissing the worry from her stressed frame. He held her tightly against his chest for a little bit, mindful of her neat hair and smartly pressed outfit, willing her anxiety to reel back enough just for today.

“I’ll be in touch, okay? Go in there with a clear head,” he kissed her again. “And I’ll be over tonight with pizza and drinks to celebrate,”

She nodded, blinking the moisture from her eyes before grabbing his face to kiss him again, lingering, committing this to memory when her heart demanded it. The rampaging fear he wouldn’t return to her at days end was suffocating her, but she wouldn’t say it out loud. She wouldn’t acknowledge her demons.

“I love you Callie.” he told her, his forehead against hers.

“I love you so much.” she sighed, her thumbs tracing his cheeks before she finally let him go.

She left her bags behind since she was going to see him again later, but had her purse tight at her side, her hands fiddling before her as she walked up the curb. Callie faced him as the engine turned over, flashing a nervous smile before walking into the bank.

He knew she’d do good. He knew from the very depths of his heart that she could nail this, and that going back to work would bring her back into routine and take up her time so her thoughts didn’t have space to drag her down. Even if it meant seeing her less, this was good for her.

He drove to the station in silence, the radio a soft lull, and the seat beside him empty.

That was going to take some adjusting to.

The precinct was as unwelcoming as ever, and he parked in the back lot like always, grabbing his warbag before walking to the entrance. Nick went generally unnoticed as he wound his way through the halls, only meeting a few unsavory glances from fellow officers that obviously would’ve preferred him not returning. Nick dished out his coldest glares, his chin lifted proudly as he made his way to the lockers.

Fuck who ever doesn’t like you.

The target poster with his name written crudely across the top had been taken down, and when he wrapped around the isle of lockers to find his, Ward was already changing.

“My man!” Daryl said cheerily, the men clasping fists and hugging quickly. “All healed up?”

“Pretty much. Little help from Callie last night.” Nick said quieter as he opened his locker. The photobooth strip was still there; he’d never taken it down, and now fixed it beside the small mirror.

“Good t’have you back.” Ward clapped against his shoulder.

No one bothered him or made snide remarks as he changed, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone said something. The uniform was a tad bit loose; he needed to bulk back up after six weeks of laying around. The vest was pulled over his chest, his badge pinned over that, but now his cleaned Clubmasters hung off his collar, his watch finding its place around his wrist since Callie had taken it to be repaired.

All in all, he felt good. There was a sense of accomplishment coming back here. The world had tried bringing him down again, but he’d fought his way back to the surface.

“Let’s bounce, Fogteeth.” Ward cracked, but Nick only rolled his eyes when a few heads turned.

There was no warm welcome from his captain in the briefing room, but Nick preferred it that way. Standing alone didn’t bother him the same any longer. He counted the people by his side, and that was all he needed. They sat slacked in their seats as morning briefings were announced, and they rose when their routes were given, and with idle chatting they made their way to the kit room, grabbing their shotguns before making their way out of the building.

Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he opened it to find a message from Callie.

2 things: 1- i forgot to pay my rent 4 days ago and now i owe an extra $450. 2- ya girl got the job

He snickered. Might as well renege on the lease. I knew you’d score that job, i’m proud of you baby

“Callie got a job,” Nick announced, slipping his phone back into his pocket as they approached the cruiser.

“That’s what’s up. Don’t you two go actin’ a fool again,” Ward quipped, both of them taking their sides in the car with Nick behind the wheel as usual.

“Nah, I’ve been thinking of asking her to move in,” Nick exhaled, reacquainting with all the controls and adjusting his seat.

“Already?” Ward asked, leaning against the door comfortably.

Nick put his Clubmasters on, nodding after he questioned himself.

Fuck yeah already.

To be continued . . .

There it is, the ending to Bell Peppers! To everyone who has come along on this journey with me and stuck around for ride; to the likes, kudos, comments and feedback on the story and art, thank you so much from the deepest corners of my heart! You all kept me inspired to keep writing and keep uploading! I would also like to take a moment to thank @rfitzhugh74 for beta-reading this monster!! I was incredibly nervous to hand over my writing, and she’s been an absolute blessing and so patient with me, so thank you love!!! 💛

Milagro is already in the works, so keep a lookout for Nick and Callie's return!

Translations: Ukmall - "small"

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peridot-gladioli · 5 years

Note

41 for the Drabble Challenge! :)

41. “Sorry isn’tgoing to help when I kick your ass”

Another future scene from this. 2927 words.

When Matt gets home, he can smell beef casserole cooking inthe oven and hear-feel-smell-sense Foggy and Evan sitting side-by-side on the couch playingsome computer game. He just stands there in the entry-way, out of sight—if notout of Evan’s sense range—and soaks in the feelings of home and family andhappy and blessed. His heart does something weird, biologically andanatomically improbable in his chest at the sheer domesticity. It’s everythinghe ever dreamed about when he was younger and never thought he’d have. Andalthough in an ideal world Elektra would be here too, he knows that even withher something would be missing without Foggy.

Also, Foggy and Evan both have the same approach togame-play: talking to their characters and moving the controllers and even theirwhole bodies as though playing on a Wii instead of Foggy’s ancient Nintendoconsole; leaning forward and sideways into moves so Matt fancies he can almostimagine what’s happening on-screen, as though anything they do other than button-mashingwill have an effect.

(Foggy takes the same approach to bowling, waving his armaround as though he can redirect the ball after he’s released it. Which remindsMatt they have to take Evan—and maybe a friend from school—bowling some timesoon. They’ve never done it: which means Evan’s never been, since—activity afteractivity—the Chaste apparently never took him out of the complex. And that’sjust criminal. Matt wants to prosecute. Or put Stick through a wall. Eitherwould do, but neither will happen.)

He sighs and goes in to the apartment proper, dropping hisbriefcase by the wall and stripping himself of suit-jacket and tie.

“Hey Dad!” Evan calls without moving his head from its fixturetowards the screen.

And there goes Matt’s heart again. He still isn’t sureexactly how acute Evans senses are because he never wants to test him the waysStick tested him, but he wonders ifEvan actually knows what it does to him every single time he hears thatappellation applied to him. “Hi guys. How were your days?

A grunt and a murmur answer him and Foggy mutters at Evan, “Ohno you don’t, you young scamp!”

“Is all your homework done, Ev?”

No answer.

“Evander?”

“Jeez Dad! Not now! Can’t you tell I’m busy? Yes! Busy beating Uncle Foggy!”

“Uh. No! No, no!” Keys mash and the game beeps wildly. “Ah-HA!There we go! Take THAT! Yes, Matt, all Evan’s homework is done, checked, and Itested him on his spellings and one of us can do it again when he goes to bed.How was your day?”

“Long.” Matt rubs at the tension at the back of his neck. “CanI go over some stuff with you after dinner?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure. The Cheng restaurant case?”

“That and Jessica brought me photos for the bodega fire they’retrying to say was an insurance scam.”

“Jones brought you photographicevidence?”

“I think she thinks she’s being ironic.”

“Instead of just ableist.”

“YES!” Evan fist-pumps and the computer plays a tinnyvictory tune.

“Oh! Not fair! Your dad was distracting me.”

“Sor-ry!” Evan sing-songs, voice dripping insincerity. “Yousnooze you lose!”

“Sorry isn’t going to help when I kick your ass, you cheating-cheater-McCheaterson,”Foggy says, dropping his controller on the coffee table with a clatter andlunging at Evan, who does not try very hard to dodge. Matt senses the man grabthe boy and—if Evan’s shriek of laughter is anything to go by—flexes hisfingers in the twin ticklish spots just above Evans waist. The ones he shareswith Matt.

Even as he tries to hide his own laughter, Matt’s heart doesthe improbable thing again, as he remembers when Evan first moved in—God, wasit really just a couple of months ago?—and hadn’t known what a tickle-fight was,let alone the play-wrestling and rough-housing that were even familiar andautomatic to Matt from his dad, nomatter how normal had been recalibrated by the nuns and kids unsure how tointeract with the blind boy. Matt represses a shudder at the memory of histen-year-old self kinda sorta wanting Stick to adopt him. Apparently with theChaste every fight—even a child sparring—had been deadly serious. Almostliterally deadly, given Evans actual scars and the long list of stitches,broken bones and concussions recorded in the secret medical file Elektra hadkept.

“Dad! Help me! I’m being attacked!” The plea is underminedby Evan laughing almost too hard to talk.

Matt hides his own grin and says, as calmly as he can, “I’llgo and put the potatoes on, then, shall I?”

“Oh, yes please,” Foggy sounds pretty out-of-breath from hiscontinuing tussles with the squirming nine-year-old, “And maybe give somethought to broccoli, beans, or peas and do the veggies?”

“Will do.”

“Not broccoli!” Evan calls from somewhere under Foggy.

“Broccoli? Okay.”

“NOT broccoli! Please, Dad! Uncle Foggy, stop?”

Foggy immediately ceases and desists. Being who he is, there’sa safeword for play-fights. And being who he is, it’s uncle, to quote Foggy, “Like in West Side Story when best-buddiesRiff and Tony play-wrestle and “When he’s hollered, ‘Uncle,’ we’ll tear up thetown!” in the Jets song.” God, Matt lovesthis man.

Evan sits up, panting and rubbing his face, which is ahot-spot to Matt’s senses. Matt just wishes he could see his son’s red face and no-doubt impressively messy hair. (Thickfloofy hair which is a constant struggle to tame is another thing Evan seems tohave inherited from Matt.) Odd things that he just wants to see once so he canremember them—the sky, Elektra, Karen, Foggy—aside, Matt thought he hadlong-since accepted his blindness, but every day there are ten things aboutEvan he wishes he could see. If there’s one thing he wants from Heaven—doubtfulas it is he’ll ever get there—he hopes that somehow in the place where theblind will see he’ll be able to know all the faces and expressions and ages ofhis boy.

“Dad, please not broccoli.”

“It’s good for you.”

“It’s gross.”

Matt snorts. His dad had persuaded him to eat—and like—broccoli bysaying it was miniature trees and he could pretend to be a giant eating big ones.But tricks that worked on a pre-schooler cut no ice with a nine-year-old withsuper-senses. “Beans AND peas, then. Deal?” Given that there are tomatoes, mushrooms,onions, celery and carrots cooked in the casserole with the beef, side-vegetablesaren’t a big deal, but it’s the principle of Evan eating something green.

“Deal. IF Uncle Foggy does the mashed potatoes. Yes?”

Which means half-and-half and pretty much a whole stick ofbutter. Matt grimaces.

“No butter on the greens and I’ll keep some potatoes justplain boiled for you, Mr Murdock. Acceptable compromise all round?” Foggy holdshis hand out, palm down.

Matt laughs and slaps his hand on top. “Acceptable, Mr Nelson.Mr Matthews do you concur?”

Evan piles his hand on. “Deal.”

“Good.” Matt takes his hand back and heads towards thekitchen. “Wine, Foggy?”

“Mid-week?”

“Like I said, it’s been a long day.” He knows Foggy willread in both that Matt wants a drink and that he doesn’t plan on going outlater. Given the crime-spike at weekends—all those easily-targetable people onthe streets from theatres, restaurants and bars—in some ways it’s easier forMatt to have a drink and put his feet up on a weeknight.

“Can I have some?”

He turns back towards the living room.

One thing Matt finds himself missing about sight that henever thought about Before is the ability for two co-parents to communicatesilently. Foggy can see Matt’s pursed lips and raised eyebrows, but Foggy’sfacial expressions are a blank—senses or no—unless he narrates them. Or Matt istouching his face.

“We could let him have a sip from one of ours.”

Matt thinks about his dad allowing him—encouraging him—to takea swig of scotch to steady his nerves and hands. He thinks about trying to takea gulp from the Communion chalice. “We could.”

He worries. Is normalising alcohol detrimental for Evan; or,if he sees that it’s okay at home and not a Big Deal, will it not be thisforbidden temptation in a couple of years when the peer pressure starts? Matt’shad middle-schoolers whose voices had not even broken try to persuade the blindman they forgot their ID so could he take their crumpled dollar bills and coinsand get them a six-pack of beer, please. “A couple of sips.”

“Cool”

“Don’t tell Ms Milla or Ms Walters. You’ll get us introuble,” Foggy half-jokes.

“More trouble or less than if I told them Dad’s Daredevil?”Evan’s totally joking.

But it still makes Matt’s belly go cold with fear. Evan’snot his, not yet, not legally andirrevocably. His social worker, guardian ad litem and Family Court still standbetween them and permanency, thanks to Matt not knowing about Evan until afterElektra’s death, thanks to the Chaste putting forward people to dispute hisguardianship and custody claim. Matt himself has complicated matters by goingfor full parental and custodial rights instead of the mere guardianship inElektra’s will. He was revelling in his family a moment ago, but he can stillfuck this up. He can lose Evan a hell of a lot easier than if he were alreadyMatt’s legal child. Hell, even Foggy isn’t really his. Not to keep. To have andto hold. He knows Foggy would never just abandon Evan, but he might still meetsomeone with whom he wants permanency and marriage and his own kids.

“Hey now. Joking! Don’t go getting all broody on us Matty,or I’ll have to kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try.” His voice comes out all wrong.

“One—you can’t see jack-shit. Two,” Foggy holds up his handsand dramatically wiggles his fingers in the air, “I know Daredevil’s one trueweakness!”

“Dad!” Evan suddenly throws himself at Matt and wraps hisarms around Matt’s waist.

Matt hugs back; holds him tight.

“Dad I would never. I wouldn’t. I’m not going to jeopardise,”he says the word carefully, “things with the case. I want to stay here, withyou and Uncle Foggy, and I don’t want to go back there or end up in an orphanage. I’m not gonna be stupid and ruineverything.”

Shit. He’s made Evan anxious. Matt knows Stick’s most recentvisit—all threats and vague prophecies of doom—is still vivid in both, all,their minds. And the trouble with living with someone else with senses like hisis Evan is hypersensitive to mood and emotions. He soaks up other people’sfeelings from the chemicals their sweat releases in the air. Stupid of him tostress—panic—when Evan is around. “Sorry. I know. I know you wouldn’t. And wewouldn’t let it happen, kiddo.”

“Ms Walters says it’s her job to represent me and myinterests—and that means she tells people what I want. And I’ve told her. WhatI want is to live with you and Uncle Foggy and become a Murdock as soon as you’remy dad on paper as well as really. You know you’ll be allowed to change my namethen, right?”

“What?” That… that was new. “A Murdock? You want to changeyour name to Murdock?”

“Of course! Everyone I know has one of their parent’s last-namesor both. Mine’s random. I know it’s your first name and my mom did it becauseshe wasn’t really a Natchios and she had enemies and stuff. But it’s not afamily name. A belonging name. So… so I thought…” Evan is starting to lose the enthusiasmwith which he started and sounding increasingly unsure. “There was only you andyour dad and it’s not Uncle Foggy with the thousands of Nelsons. So I thoughtit would be… cool, I guess. Become a Murdock. Like you. Show I belong. Youknow? Is that… would that be okay?”

He… Evan, his kid, his son,actually sounds worried. Like there’s a chance Matt might say it isn’t okay.Which is bad. Worse, Matt can’t say anything.His throat has closed up and his eyes are pricking and burning with tears andhe has to take one hand off Evan and bring it up to hide his wobbling mouth andtrembling chin.

“Dad?”

Foggy comes over to them, puts one hand on Evan’s shoulderand the other on Matt’s and shakes Matt a little. “It’s okay buddy. It’s morethan okay that you want to be a Murdock. You’ve just made your dad happy-cry, that’show okay it is. You know what a great big softie he is.”

“But not a pussy. ‘Cause being soft doesn’t stop you beingtough. Right?”

“You said it kid.” The reassuring hand on his shouldershakes Matt again. “Now, I thought we were in the process of getting dinner ontrack so we can eat before Ev’s bedtime?”

Matt sniffs hard and manages to swallow. “Sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it when I kick your ass, Dad. I’m starving and you’re not feeding me.Pretty sure that’s a dad-crime.”

Matt sneezes-laughs-coughs against the tears tickling theback of his nose and the emotion-choked throat, and takes off his glasses towipe away the tears. Then he pokes Evan in one of his ticklish spots. “I’mpretty sure you’re spending too much time with your Uncle Foggy. You’re indanger of turning into a brat. I thought we were having a moment.”

“We were but it’s over and I’m hungry.”

Matt crouches down until his head is level with his son’sand does his best to “look” him in the face. “Seriously, Evander Matthews,”(heignores the groan at the full-name-usage) “I love you and would be honoured tomake you a Murdock. The very second it’s legal, if that’s what you want. Butyour last-name doesn’t matter, Ev. Nothing can make you any more my son thanyou already are. Not even the court and the judge and the paperwork. You knowthat, right?”

“Well, duh. Though if we’re talking about it… I know EvanderHolyfield isn’t the boxer you would’ve named me after. Don’t know why Mom didit. If you’d named me? I’d be Jack, right? Like your dad? So I was thinking… Idon’t have a middle name.”

(Matt hears Foggy quietly slip past them to the kitchen.Just as well. They’ll never get dinner if Evan just keeps killing Matt likethis.) “God. Kid. I… Every time I think I love you as I much as I possibly can,you go and do something which doubles it.”

“That’s ‘cause love’s infinite.”

“Evan. God. You’re pretty damn amazing, you know that?”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” (He’s nine. He has to have gotthat expression from Foggy. It sure as hell wasn’t from Stick.) “And Dad? I love you too. I know I don’t… Like Uncle Foggysays love stuff all the time and I like it, but when I try to say it, itsounds stupid in my head and I can hearStick making fun of me. And I get embarrassed. But I do. Love you. Lots. Tons.Infinity.”

God. This kid, hiskid. He’s gonna kill him. Here lies Matthew Michael Murdock, died when hisheart exploded because his son is just that wonderful. Matt hugs Evan tohim, holds him as tight as he can, so tightly he’s worried he’ll hurt him, buthe can’t. He can’t let go. Thank you,God. Thank you that in spite of my sins, You have allowed me to have this. Ibeg you, don’t let me screw this up. Holy Mary, Mother of God, help me to beone half the parent this boy deserves. Mary, how did You feel when You foundout Who Your Son was? How did You have the grace to cope, because this humanboy makes me feel so unworthy. Help me.

“Okay, you two. I think that’s quite enough emotional crisesfor one evening.” Foggy is beside them and puts his arm around Matt’sshoulders. Matt stands, leaning into his friend, abruptly afraid that he’sgoing to end up on his butt.

“Uncle Foggy, I love you, too, you know.”

“And I love you.” He squeezes Matt’s shoulders and kisses the top of Evan’s head.

“I know. You’re always saying. Infinity, right?”

“Infinity and beyond”

Matt muffles his wet chuckle in Foggy’s shoulder. More thanever he needs that glass of wine.

Evan holds out one hand, thumb and pointer finger touchingto make a circle, like an okay-sign or zero. Foggy laughs and links his ownfinger-loop with it. It takes Matt a moment, but paired with the words, interconnecting circles, or loops. Matt knows that one. The infinity symbol.

Half-shy, afraid it might be just an Evan-and-Foggy thing, Matt holdsout his own finger loop. Both Foggyand Evan try to loop theirs with it. And Matt is swallowing tears. Again.

Foggy presses a kiss to Matt’s temple. “Love you too,Murdock. Though I’m gonna have to stop calling you that if there’s two of you.Could get confusing.”

“You can call us Murdock and Murdock Junior.” Evan pullsaway, leaving Matt and Foggy holding hands, and heads for the unit that holdsall their DVDs and Blu-Ray disks. “And now I wanna watch Toy Story again. Okay?”

#matt murdock #foggy nelson #mattfoggy #fan-fiction #daredevil #evander chronicles #my writing #pomegranate-belle #answered asks

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groundramon · 6 years

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Homph I finished tri and I wrote down my thoughts as I was watching because I had too many funny shitposts and nobody to share them with bc charlie hasn’t watched tri yet

PS i wont be reblogging tri spoilers (besides MINOR stuff like, digivolutions of already confirmed digivolution lines or non-spoilery shitposts, but I’ll try to tag shitposts as #tri spoilers anyways [digivolutions specific to tri ill tag as well but not ones that were already basically confirmed]) for a while so ur safe here! I’m just gonna like everything/most things because then I can rb em to hisyaryumon lmao (also u should check out hisyaryumon....its me n charlie’s digimon blog)

EP 1:

- ok. alright. ok. good. they’re dealing with kari’s emotions now instead of just. nothing. ok. alright. cool. Still dont like how obscure/”artsy” they’re being with it, this is digimon not kagerou project, but ok.

- Also. I stand by tk and kari being one of the few good straight ships in digimon. just saying.

- kari: this is my fault... me: god damn it shut up you little brat also me: god relatable ALSO me: ill take whatever display of emotions i can get

- I love how nobody believes tai is dead like. They’re upset and worried but they’re also like “nah. he cant be. that fucking asshole just left us in our time of need” (actually only matt is the last one)

- Gabumon i would die for you also im crying and I think that’s the first time tri managed to make me fucking CRY

EP 2:

- I had thoughts but then the 02 kids happened and I entered another plane of reality. I don’t feel real right now

- the only one I can remember is evil!gennai being a dumbass and being like “SUFFER AND SQUIRM YOU PATHETIC HUMANS AS YOU FIGHT OVER THE LAST SEAT” 1. humans are KNOWN for their ability to care for others you dumb obvious fuck and 2. is. is the entire tube going? because that tube can fit too people if they squish. This isn’t a joke I’m serious it can.

- oh yeah also when i saw whomstever the fuck his name is (adult guy who i love but fuck names) and he was all bloodied i was like “its a cold day in hell when i see blood in digimon” (I think there was blood in an earlier ep but shh idc)

EP 3:

- didn’t nishijima start off as a fucking life coach to these kids. What the fuck he was supposed to help them find a career not emotionally scar them by bloodily dying in front of one of them

- im realizing that the reason hackmon was always in his cloak, in the shadows, standing still is that they cannot animate him in any normal position for the life of him. I drew him with better anatomy when i was 14 and didn’t have a tablet. No seriously, look:

I didn’t say it wasn’t bad, you guys are just underestimating how bad the anatomy on this poor creature is. Why cant ppl draw dracomon or hackmon correctly imma cry

- ordinemon has the best reaction faces

the best part about these two screenshots is that they literally cut one to the other, first the first one to the second one and then it cuts back to the first one. They were really proud of these stupid ass expressions.

- I started overcoming my dissociation shock from the second episode and my hypercritical mind was analyzing the shit out of everything that happened (it is Not happy) but then evil!gennai called kari and evil goddess and idk if he’s exaggerating to make her feel bad or if she’s literally a fucking god of chaos and destruction and either way im like

she did kinda like. Watch wizardmon die, watch tai die, watch gatomon get absorbed. The dark ocean is just a metaphor for depression and honestly if 02 wasn’t all over the fucking place I think Kari would’ve had some pretty decent development in it. Actually you know what, I’m using that as an angle to approach Tri at now, wish me luck bc i might actually give it more leeway now

EP 4:

- I’m not dissociating but I forgot to say anything again and I already forgot what happened

- Cant believe mei is fucking dead

EP 5:

- I like to imagine that Tai got there like a few minutes ago, but he was like “well damn guess yall figured it out without me. alright ill just. see if I need to do anything” and then meicoomon was Still Bad so he waited for when she struck just to make the most badass entrance possible. Fucking extra ass bitch

- I forgot to write anything again but uhhh I wasn’t satisfied so anyways lets just get into the Juicy Details

Originally I was actually planning to be kinder to Tri than I expected. Was very invested during it. ‘Round the end of the last ep I realized hmmm no this isn’t working out. Where are the 02 kids. You should’ve brought them in to save the day. That would’ve been SO cool and SO fun. Fucking cowards.

god I’m kinda tired so I’m going to address a couple things I still had problems with, note that this isn’t everything it’s just everything I felt comfortable yelling about without rewatching past eps. Like I forgot nishijima was all bloodied and presumably died in the last part until they brought it up and I was like “????” ALSO DID THE LADY WHO WAS HIS PARTNER OR W/E KILL HERSELF WITH THE GUN SHE FOUND, I JUST REALIZED LITERALLY AS I WAS TYPING THIS THAT SHE FOUND A GUN AND THEN I THINK IT CUT TO BLACK AND I’M

DID SHE FUCKING KILL HERSELF WHAT THE FUCK

anyways my problems:

1. They did joe. really dirty. I’ll write a more proper rant on this sometime later (mostly bc charlie is MUCH better at talking about joe than I am) but basically I can tell you that his character development in the movies squandered his OG character development. He’s basically an entirely different person. Like Tri joe isn’t bad, besides being largely neglected (yes he has a whole half a movie to himself, no that doesn’t make up for it all), its just...not OG joe. He’s a fine character just not the same character, and its NOT fine when you put the two together.

2. THEY DID THE 02 KIDS EVEN DIRTIER IM SO BITTER sorry you nostalgia-blind, money-hungry fucks at bandai, but the 02 cast is PART OF THE ADVENTURES UNIVERSE. The only people who hate 02 are ones who like the characters but hate the mess of the storyline at the end, or are completely irrational and elitist about their love of the digimon series and would greatly re-evaluate their opinions if they watched the original series and 02 back to back. They couldn’t even show them in some kind of group montage at the end??? Standing in the background when they call Mei??? Why couldn’t they call mei from a home phone also, but that’s a less important problem idc that much. It was a cute scene besides the lack of 02 characters. Whatever. AND THE PROBLEM IS LIKE kari and tk? This entire time??? Were like “oh they disappeared. oops” instead of being frantically searching for their lost friends??? Like i get tk and kari probably have fucking ptsd and can’t express any emotions because they watched important people die in front of their eyes at an incredibly young age but also 1. they didn’t address the ramifications of ptsd, so fuck that theory/excuse and 2. THAT??? WOULD ONLY MAKE THEM LOOK HARDER??? and put on a brave face as they look, but inside they’re so scared and so worried. Not just “oh sweet, they were found/saved, theyre in the hospital but that’s fine” like WHAT theyre fucking assholes if that’s what they’d canonically do lmao. God I am SO bitter over the ENTIRE thing with the 02 kids, it would’ve been BETTER if they were deleted from the fucking canon entirely. Would I have still been bitter? Yes. But at least I wouldn’t be madder at TK and Kari too.

3. I stand 100% by the notion that Digimon is not and will never be cut out to be an adults’ franchise. It wasn’t designed for adults, and it can’t be skewered towards adults. These particular characters were designed for kids to relate to and find entertaining. They do not work when placed into an adult setting. Like, can you imagine a character like Ed from FMA going to the Digimon world? I guess in a way that’s just Marcus but like. Just imagine the FMA cast in Digimon Adventure. It doesn’t work. Digimon Tri is basically that except real. Also Data Squad was darker than Adventure so my joke doesn’t even work.

I guess my primary point is that Tri isn’t mature enough of a setup for an adult audience. It puts a focus on being “complex” and “philosophical” instead of working within Digimon’s constraints and making something good and adult out of that. Like! Digimon is a fucking TOY COMMERCIAL. Don’t give me messages about the futility of human life. I want bad puns and emotional characters. That’s what Digimon has ALWAYS been, and ideally always will be. Tri could’ve made itself more mature by dealing with the ramifications of the Digital World’s events, how it affected the kids psychologically and dealing with healing old scars. It would’ve been a more mature take on a story we loved and would use things we loved about the story already - the fact that it took so much time exploring characters’ emotions and was surprisingly mature for the time - to make itself better. You need to take the aspects that drew adults to the show and amplify them, not just slap on a complex story and unfunny dialogue and be like “oh this is fine, right?”

It’s not that Digimon can’t exist as an adult property, its just that if it repeats what Tri did, it’s got no merit and in my eyes the franchise is dead. If it survives I guess I’ll be happy that people can still enjoy it but I find it unsustainable and unsatisfying to fans of the older series. Tri is just a fuckfest of highly specific nostalgia that tries too hard to appeal to old fans without capturing what made the original series so magical, and in part thats because the original series WASN’T FOR ADULTS. I don’t know about the Digimon Story games, bc they’re T-rated so perhaps they’re a better take on an adult Digimon story than Tri? But you either need to make your own characters and lore specifically for an adult-oriented Digimon season, or perish. Also, please make it a series and not a group of movies. Getting four eps every 6-9 months was hell.

I stand by saying Appmon is a more faithful Digimon season than Tri to Digimon’s original spirit. I believe it holds more potential for success than Tri and better embodies the spirit of the older Digimon seasons. It’s dumb, its corny, it has horrible puns, but I LOVE it because it also has a deep dark story and emotional moments. If you dislike Tri and you agree with things I said that make it unlikeable, I highly recommend giving Appmon a chance - if you watch a few episodes and think “oh yeah, I guess this is decent” you’re going to like it. It’s everything Digimon has always been and hopefully always will be, just with a different concept. And hopefully the end of the series doesn’t leave a sour taste in my mouth and I have to redact this statement haha since I’m not done with it yet, but I’ve heard good things about it so I’m hoping not so.

Overall, if you watch Tri, don’t get your hopes up. It resolves everything okay-ish but it’s a pretty forgettable anime on its own and simply doesn’t work as part of the Digimon franchise.

I am, however, pretty interested in what evil!gennai said at the end about Diaboromon and Daemon. It raises interesting questions about the timeline too. We know Daemon is in the dark ocean, so perhaps that’s a hint at a future project? (They did confirm a future project btw, in conjunction with tri being over) But what about Diaboromon? I dont believe that Our War Game (I think thats what its called?) took place after Tri, based on the outfits and ages and stuff, but I also don’t remember the movies that well. Could Diaboromon still be out there too? It’s interesting.

However, because of the lackluster performance of Tri, I don’t have my hopes up and I really hope that this “next project” goes in a different direction. Although I guess if they include the 02 kids, I’ll be somewhat less salty...

Side note, did they ever explain why the gennais went evil? Like ? That’s a pretty important thing. The gennais helped SAVE the human world in 02. And I get that apparently Tri is ignoring 02′s ending but still. It’s shitty, because Gennai was still a good guy in the original too (and also they cant just keep is younger look and act like 02 never happened) MAYBE its something I missed but I dont think so. God there’s just. So much wrong with Tri. I’m very displeased and very bitter and I wanna get back to Appmon asap.

It’s got good moments, its got bad moments, I dont know, I don’t care. There’s nothing wrong with you if you like it, there’s nothing wrong with you if you don’t, and there’s nothing wrong with you if you flip flop and are split like me. I just wish Tri fulfilled its potential instead of becoming a boring mess.

#stormy speaks #digimon

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angelaiswriting · 7 years

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Back again | Charles Vane x Reader (part 1 of 2)

[Gif not mine] - READ PART TWO HERE

Requested by Anon: “First off I want to say how amazing your blog is!!!! I’ve been looking for stuff like this since the end of Black Sails! I was wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader brings Vane back from the dead (Kinda like Calypso & Barbosa In POTC) and Vane ends up falling for the reader. Thanks !!” + “Vane is Made Pirate King of Nassau and makes reader his Queen”

A/N: I thought I’d mix these two requests since I received them seven minutes apart and I had the feeling you were the same person who maybe forgot to add that second part + I apologize for any mistakes too. Also @selldraug would like to say "And Claudia said: bitch stop, you're gonna write a book" and I might. I MIGHT, because I’m just so in love with this request haha (part 2 might contain some smut because when Claudia requests I obey)

Fandom: Black Sails. Pairing: Charles Vane x Reader

Warnings: what if in which Vane is still alive. Nothing else I think ?

Word-count: 2887

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Charles felt uncomfortable. Something hard was behind his back – or beneath it: he wasn’t quite sure which of the two options was correct.

He clearly remembered dying, or at least standing on the gibbet. The Englishmen had hung him in front of the people that had once been his comrades or his enemies in the search for power and treasures that had led his – and still led theirs – life. He remembered saying something to them, something along the lines of ‘just kick their fat asses after I’m gone’, but he couldn’t quite grasp the exact words he had used.

His skin prickled. His neck hurt as if that damn rope were still around it, blocking the air from reaching his lungs.

Then it hit him. A strange smell of smoke. It wasn’t quite the smoke of cigars, or of bonfires, to which he had once been used to – it was sweeter, almost heavier, but smoke nevertheless. It felt like it was cuddling him, lulling him to sleep.

He had never believed in religion, in the distinction between Heaven and Hell, in the fight between God and the Devil, Good and Evil. He had never been quite a good person either – he had killed, kidnapped, robbed, hurt. He had been petty and violent. He had been enslaved, but he had eventually redeemed himself.

God had never been there for him – all his life he had believed only in himself, in his fellows and in his enemies, even. He’d send Him to hell if only he could.

That’s why he didn’t think he had ended up in Heaven.

Heaven would be too good for someone like him. He’d feel too much at peace there – Heaven was not a place for someone like Captain Charles Vane, restless, needing people, rum, gold, miles under his belt and under his Ranger.

He had probably fallen asleep, even though he had yet to open his eyes.

It was just too peaceful, laying or standing there like that – wherever he was. He didn’t even care if he was in a coffin six feet under or at the bottom of the sea. He felt like he had earned some sleep, some rest. Because let’s admit it: being a pirate and a captain is not an easy thing. You always had to watch your back, to grant the crew what they needed (which almost always was gold to buy rum or to bang a whore). You had to plan the assaults, to keep away from His Highness’s ships and bounty hunters, for you almost always had a bag of silver hanging above your head and a whole bunch of bigots who wanted you dead.

And he had died, to their utter joy.

They got rid of Charles Vane and they were now free from that terror.

Or at least that’s what they might have been thinking, Charles told himself.

Days had passed. Maybe centuries. Charles didn’t even know – time felt like it was flowing terribly slowly, it felt dilated, heavy. He didn’t know and he didn’t even care. He felt like it didn’t matter. And if this was eternity... well, he’d have to put up with it.

Then, suddenly, almost unexpectedly, his eyes fluttered open on their own accord.

For a moment the bright light blinded him and he squinted his eyes.

Now that he was wide awake he could feel something under his back, something soft, not hard as he had perceived it before. Peeking from under his lashes he saw the hem of a brown blanket covering him, rising and falling with each breath he took.

Did he just come back from the dead?

It was a silly thought, but a hope nevertheless. He wasn’t done with life. Heck, he’d never be done with the sea – it was still out there, somewhere, waiting for him, calling him like a siren, needing him to sail it again.

And maybe God – that God in which he had never believed before, that God who had always been against him – was the only one to actually know how much he still needed it – the sea, the sand, the rum, a ship under his feet. He still needed the world and whatever it had to offer. And he’d always be there to catch its gifts.

A low hum distracted him and he immediately closed his eyes shut, slowing his breath down, pretending to be asleep.

He felt someone entering the room, shuffling things around, humming an old tune he had already heard somewhere in his past – or maybe it was just an impression since he couldn’t remember the moment or the person who had once hummed it.

“My God, Charles Vane,” a woman’s voice huffed. “If only had I known you’d take so long to wake up from the dead, I would’ve never brought you back.”

Another sigh.

Then he felt the mattress underneath his body lowering, something warm – probably her body – sitting just millimeters from his left leg.

“I had heard you were a good company,” she went on and Charles heard the noise of moving water. “But I must be honest with you: you’re actually not.” She moved a little in her spot: what Charles thought was her thigh got closer to his own and he thought she had turned to look at him.

Him? Not a good company? Who the heck was this girl?

“I mean, I know that coming back from death is no walk in the park, but come on!” She got closer and pushed his thigh a little. He felt the blanket being lifted from him and the hot air in the room hit his chest like a slap. “I know I shouldn’t because let me tell you – you have a great body,” she spoke again and something wet started to clean his chest. “Scarred and all, but a great body indeed,” the woman added. “But, you know, I’m tired of cleaning you up. I can’t even get it – you’re always sweating.”

Charles tried not to frown – who the hell was she? What did she want? The urge to shut her up was so strong he literally had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from opening that damn mouth he had.

He let her wash his chest and when he felt her movements go lower, he opened his eyes.

He only had a couple of seconds to take in her Y/H/C hair before he grabbed her left wrist in a swift movement.

She jumped in surprise and the cloth she was using to wash him fell on his abdomen. She struggled to get free and ended up knocking his groin with her elbow. The grasp on her wrist disappeared all at once as Charles closed his legs and eyes, cursing under his breath.

Y/N jumped on her feet. Before he knew it Charles Vane had a gun pointing at his head.

“Don’t move or I’ll send you back where I took you from,” she growled, but he could see the fear in her eyes, hear it in her voice.

Charles got up on an elbow, one hand still on his groin. Damn, he didn’t come back from the dead to be kicked where the sun doesn’t shine, he thought. Or at least he hoped. “Who the hell are you?”

“Well, no ’thank you’?” she pouted, gun still aiming at him.

“Thank you,” he mocked her, sitting up. His eyes hurt like hell and they were so sensitive that they were watering.

“I’m Y/N,” she answered. “And close your eyes, they’ve not recovered completely yet,” she added, throwing him a dark bandage and lowering the gun.

She stared at him for a minute or so before reaching the bed again. Charles recoiled a little, scared he might get hit again, and dragged the blankets with him. Y/N simply bent down to grab the washbowl full of water but didn’t dare to retrieve the cloth she used with him.

The young woman reached the doorway and moved the curtain she used as a door. She had already taken a step forward when she stilled for a second. She turned to face Charles Vane and smiled. “Sleep now, you need to rest.”

A week had passed by quickly.

Charles had already started to go outside, even though Y/N always tried to stop him. He had just come back from the afterlife – the whole ritual had exhausted her and she couldn’t even start to guess how weak he had to feel – but he needed to go back to the world.

She almost liked him better unconscious. Those first three weeks had passed slowly, but at least he had been silent. Now he had turned out to be a huge pain in the ass. He whined about everything, had her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch she had in what could’ve been called a living room, and did absolutely nothing to help her out.

Charles sat by the sea, not knowing where he was. She told him they were still on New Providence Island, but in which fucking part? He was fuming: he had to go back. Go back and check on the Englishmen. Help out those who wanted them dead. Kill Eleanor himself.

“Make yourself useful,” Y/N’s voice grunted and a second later two big fish brushed against his head while falling.

He turned around and grabbed her by her ankle, stopping her from stomping away. “Who do you think I am?”

“I brought you back, Charles,” she growled, freeing her foot. “Show more gratitude or I’ll send you back. People like you cast me out. I helped you because I thought you could change the things on this stupid island,” and she knelt down in front of him, eyes burning, rage furiously flowing with her blood in her veins. “You’d better show me you deserved being saved because I’m no lady and I can be your worst nightmare.”

And with those words, she left.

“I’ve been a dick,” Charles said out of nowhere that evening, while the two were having dinner.

The fish he had cleaned was delicious and Y/N would’ve loved to have more of it, but that frigging pirate was starving and she had to cede part of her food. And she understood it, really – being dead and coming back, remaining unconscious for weeks and drinking somehow only fish soup didn’t sound like easy things, but...

She sighed. “Yes.”

“I’d like to apologize,” he continued, pouring more water into his wooden glass.

“You better,” she mumbled before standing up. She took his dish and hers and reached the sink in the adjoined little kitchen.

“Sleep in your bed tonight.”

She turned towards him and frowned. Was he kidding? Or did he really mean it? “You don’t fit on the couch,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Was he going to sleep on the floor? She’d laugh: Captain Charles Vane sleeping on the ground just so that she could have her bed back. She shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t worry about me. Just think about your health: the sooner you recover, the sooner I kick you out of my house.”

They slept together that night. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t for sex – they just laid in Y/N’s bed, side by side, and they both fought to fall asleep.

They talked for a while – she told him how she had found his corpse a few feet from her door, that she had no idea who could have brought him there. She didn’t exactly tell him how she brought him back – and sure as hell all she wanted was to forget the things she had done to reach her target – but she explained how she had taken care of him before he woke up.

He let her talk and kept his gaze fixed on her face only because he knew she had her eyes closed. He like the sound of her voice, it always calmed him somehow. And when her voice did its magic he always realized how he had needed it without even knowing.

Her skin was pale, even though the sun burnt New Providence and everyone and everything on the island. She had the skin of a lady, one of those you could find in a big city, with a nice house, a rich husband and kids she didn’t have to look after.

He brushed his hand against her arm, but she gave no sign of feeling his touch.

“Why did you take me back? Why did you think I was worthy of it?” he suddenly asked, voice tired.

She managed to shrug her shoulders even if she was laying. “You were strong, determined. No one even dared to stop you, everyone feared you. But you cared for your people and followed your heart, doing what you thought was the right thing to do,” she answered and turned her head in his direction, eyes wide open. “I thought... maybe you were the right person to free Nassau, to bring order.” She snickered while adding: “To get rid of those Guthries.”

They both laid in silence for a while, him staring at the ceiling and her staring at his profile.

“And because you were a slave and freed yourself,” she whispered. “I wish I had your same strength back in the days.”

He frowned and tried to ask her what she meant, but she yawned and snuggled into the cushions.

Before he knew it, she was sound asleep. In the dim light of the candle still burning on her bedside table, he saw a pale long scar on her right cheek.

A month had passed since his resurrection, but Charles couldn’t accept the idea of leaving Y/N and the peace of the place where she lived.

It was quiet, no one ever came. Isolated God knows where her cottage was small but comfortable. A vegetable garden was the first thing that would welcome you when you reached her house. Tomatoes tanned under the sun, herbs scented the air, flowers shone like stars.

Charles had never thought of having a house, or a wife. For a long, long time his house had been the Ranger, his wife – the sea. His crew had been like an extended family – they were the only people he’d ever need, the only people he had trusted, the only people he had wanted by his side.

But now... with each day he felt himself falling harder for the young woman who had resurrected him. He almost felt the need to stay with her, to even just stare at her while she did whatever she did every day. He smelled the sea on her skin and that salty water – which he had loved all his life – smelled differently, it changed her scent and she changed its.

He had never been the romantic guy some women wanted. He was rough, he was vulgar at times, he was more like the raging sea than a man. But with her by his side, with peace filling his days, with nothing to worry about... a thought flashed in his mind, almost like a wish, like a hope: he could stay here forever. He could go to sea and come back to her, and in those days in which he'd remain home he could smell the scent of the unknown on her skin, see distant places in her eyes, hear in her voice the sound the wind makes when it caresses the sails.

“What are you staring at?” she asked, smiling, and sat next to him on the shore.

She was bare feet and wore blue cotton trousers and one of the shirts she had given him.

“You,” he blurted out before he could stop his tongue.

Her cheeks turned red, but he wasn’t quite sure whether it was because of the hot sun or because of his words.

He caught himself thinking how cute she was, with red cheeks and light freckles dotting the skin of her face.

She averted her gaze and turned towards the sea.

Waves were washing the shore and the sun looked like fire on the water. Seagulls were flying and screaming above their heads.

“Was it hard?” he asked, hoping to get her to talk.

“What?”

“Bringing me back.”

She looked at him and smiled, then shrugged her shoulders. “No,” she answered, but Charles knew she was lying.

“What’s that scar on your face?”

“The past,” Y/N sighed. “And the past stays in the past,” she added. “You’ve quite recovered.”

She looked sad while she stared at him. The wind was blowing from the sea against her face and her hair flew behind her in a Y/H/C mess.

He nodded and this once he was the one to stare at the sea. “Do you want me gone?”

Y/N sighed. “No, I’m not sure. I’ve been alone for years and it’s good to finally have someone to talk to, even if that someone’s just got back from the dead.”

“I like it here,” he confessed, wrists resting on his knees. “With you.”

She smiled and threw some sand in his direction.

“But I have to go back to Nassau,” he added, turning to face her.

She sat still for a moment and he saw her swallowing hard. Then she nodded.

“And I want you to come with me. I’ll need your help to take the port.”

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