#and now he’s gotta deal with his son being a bastard instead

[polakina]

cracks in porcelain

'scars do heal' chapter 6

pairing: captain price x reader

rating: mature

outline: the team was whole again, you were back at base and Hassan was yours. with the missile still in the wind, you would do anything to get the information out of Hassan. anything.

warnings: canon violence, blood, torture, murder, the daddy issues will definitely kick in soon, fluff

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist II 'scars do heal' masterlist

II

The bed felt too comfortable to leave. You laid there much longer than you should have, staring at the familiar ceiling of your room that you had strangely missed. The comforting walls shielding you in from facing the boys outside.

It had been three days since you were allowed to move to your room instead. The team hadn’t seen much of you, and they hadn’t pried for you to join them during meals or in the evening around the fire. They kept their distance, Price advising them to give you some time to adjust and heal. You had appreciated it, not really wanting to be around everyone right now. You knew that they would act differently around you, be quieter and watch what they said, be careful as to not touch you or go near you with any sudden movements.

It felt silly, really. But you understood why they were doing it. They were worried. Even having you back. Alive. They worried for you. They needed you back, and soon. The team had to be whole again to deal with Hassan and the missile.

-

Stepping into the briefing room, you were happy that your leg was starting to hurt a little less now. The stretches that Gaz had recommended to you after his leg injury had really helped you out, you almost felt yourself again.

The boys all looked to you as you entered, a warm smile appearing on their faces. “Well, well. If it isn’t our phoenix rising from the ashes,” Soap clapped his hands together while walking over to you. You didn’t expect him to hug you, but his arms enveloped you and you embraced it. 

“Well, I gotta get in on this,” Gaz grinned, running around the table and making it a three way hug. Ghost just rolled his eyes, but walked over anyway. He didn’t hug you, but he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. Alejandro and Rodolfo appeared moments later, joining the embrace. You laughed quietly as they hugged you, glad to have you back. Finally separating, you saw Price smiling at you all, his moustache turning up slightly. 

“Alright, boys,” Price said, turning everyone’s attention to him. “We got Hassan in lockup and no way of finding this damn missile. If we can get some information out of him, maybe we can get a lead on the missile. Or some way of stopping it before its released.” You all walked to the table, standing around it and listening to the captain. “But it is nice to have you back at the table, Rook.”

“Phoenix,” everyone droned, rolling their eyes playfully. 

“You call her what you like,” Price smiled, “She’s Rook to me.” You couldn’t help but smile. “So, let’s figure out what we’re doing, and get it done right this time.”

-

The shipping container’s dark navy tint shone bright on the side of the sun. Heat and light radiated off it, and you couldn’t imagine how hot it would be once you were inside it. The team walked over to the container, all standing at the closed door, fingers wiggling with anticipation to get this over with.

“You gonna be alright in there rook?” Price asked you quietly, coming up beside you. His arm brushed against yours and you leaned into his comforting touch slightly. 

“I’ll be fine,” you responded, your tone firm. “I want to see that son of a bitch again anyway. Might give him a matching scar to mine.”

Price knew you weren’t being serious. Mostly. You had every right to kill that bastard, but you needed that information first. After that, he was ready to look the other way and let you lock that shipping door behind you. “Alright, love.” He trusted you. Entirely.

Price pulled the door open, letting the light seep through to the dimly lit container. “Let’s get this over with.” There was a single flickering lightbulb to illuminate the dingy shipping container. A single metal chair was positioned in the center of the holding container, facing away from the door, and Hassan was sitting in it, cuffed to the seat. Seemed pretty ironic that he had you in this same predicament not one week prior. 

The boys walked to where Hassan could see them, standing in a sort of semi circle around him, Price in the center with Alejandro and Ghost flanking him. You hung back for a second, taking a deep breath and clearing your head of the past three months in the prison cell that te very man before you had locked and tortured you in. 

“The missile, Hassan,” Price started, crossing his arms as he looked down at the man. “Where is it? What do you know about it?”

Hassan just laughed to himself. Soap kicked the chair leg closest to him hard. “Find something funny, arsehole?”

He nodded, looking up at Soap with a grin on his face. He didn’t even seem to care about the situation he was in right now. “Yeah, I do, soldier. Seems like we’re both in the same boat here. Looking for a missile without a way to track it down.”

Soap leaned down to level eye contact with him. “That’s Sergeant to you. Now tell us what you know before we take turns caving your face in.” Hassan maintained eye contact, his eyes like steel as they stared directly at Soap.

“You can beat me all you want. I cannot tell you what I do not know. Now if you’ve finished wasting your time, I’d like you to leave me in peace. Your stench is like acid to my nostrils,” Hassan jeered, flicking his eyes to the men in front of him. He was taunting them, and he was loving it. Not only did he not care about being captured, but he was looking forward to sending the men into a spiral. He wanted to anger them, to turn them on one another. Then he could drive them apart from the inside.

“You fucking-”

“Soap,” Price warned, as he saw his Sergeant close his and into a tightly clenched fist. He knew Soap had a short temper. If he allowed him to keep speaking to Hassan, he was sure to lose it at some point. Price believed Hassan when he said he didn’t know the location of the missile, and if he didn’t have any useful information, then they wouldn’t need him anymore. They already had a plan in place for when they did locate the missile, and the technology they would use to safely detonate it when acquired. Hassan was just a loose end now. A loose end they could cut off without remorse.

“Where’s the girl?” Everyone looked to Hassan, yourself included from where you were leaning against the inside of the container door, staring at the back of his head. “You boys bore me. I want to speak to someone with a little…fire.”

Ghost stepped forward, fists clenched. “You’re not getting anywhere near her. Not after what you did, you sick piece of shit,” he spat through gritted teeth. Hassan just shook his head, looking to the floor. “I said I didn’t know where the missile was. I never said I didn’t know who took it.” You watched as Ghost fleetingly look to you before back to Hassan. “And you won’t know what I know…” Hassan leaned forward as much as his cuffs would let him. “Until I talk to her. And her alone.” Everyone went silent and you saw them all look past Hassan to where you were standing.

Price gave you a look. The sort of look that said “you up for it?”. You were. You’d been mentally preparing the whole time Soap was speaking. You knew Hassan well enough by now to know he’d want to see you. See the damage he’d done to you. So you nodded, and Price cleared his throat, making the team look his way. He gestured towards the exit with his head, and with looks of confusion spread across their faces they all headed to the door. You stepped aside, pushing the door open with your foot, and Alejando and Rodolfo passed with a swift nod of their heads. Soap and Gaz patted your shoulder before leaving but Ghost stopped before exiting. 

“Gonna be alright in there, Nix? You don’t have to do this,” he said solemnly, his pretty eyes looking as though they were staring directly into your soul. 

“I got this. Besides, after this, I’ll never have to see him again,” you kept your eyes on Hassan the whole time.

Ghost took a second before he connected all the dots in his head. He just nodded and left to join the others. Price followed lastly. “If he gets too much, leave and we’ll figure something else out, rook.. But if he tells you who took the missile, then we’re golden and we’ll finally have a lead on how to finish this.”

“I’ll get it out of him, Price,” you looked up at him, and he could see the determination in your eyes. 

“Okay, rook.” Price went to leave, but stopped, something suddenly springing to mind. “Be careful, okay? Anything goes sideways, let me know, I’ll come in. And…after he tells you, he’s disposable.” That was the best thing you’d heard all day. Your focus was drawn to the cold handle of a handgun being pressed into your hand, and you felt him slip a knife into your belt, the handle pressing against the small of your back. You hadn’t been able to get your own weapons back since being discharged, a psych evaluation was requested before you were able to have your weapons on hand. Price placed his hand over yours comfortingly, his fingers drifting over yours. “Don’t let him get into your head, love.” With that, he left. It was just you and Hassan now.

“I know you’re there, little girl.” Little girl. It’s what he’d called you to diminish your status since you were first taken. You called him out on it the first day, spitting on his shoe as you did. That was what earned you that scar on your face. Thinking back to what you said to Price before coming in, the idea of giving him the same scar was increasingly tempting. It was a long ugly scar, stretching from your jaw up the left side of your cheek and over your eye. It stopped just beneath your hairline. Hassan had personally left that scar there as a reminder to keep your mouth shut, saying every time you stepped out of line he’d leave another one. There was a reason your body was littered with thirty-four scars in total.

“Who took the missile, Hassan? You got what you wanted, it’s just me and you.” Your voice was surprisingly steady, a calm tone hanging in the air.

“I’ll tell you if you come over here. Let me see that face of yours,” his tone disgusted you. Anything he said disgusted you. He talked as though he still had control of the room, authority over people. You had to remind yourself he had none. You had to remind yourself he was in your territory now.

Walking up behind him, you held the blade in your hand, holding it against his throat. With your free hand, you pulled his head back and tilted it up to you. “No, I give the orders around here. Now tell me who took the fucking missile before I spray this container with all of your blood. Don’t fuck around with me Hassan, unless you want to feel more pain than you could ever imagine.”

He just smiled, looking up at you, not even caring about the droplet of blood spilling from the small cut you had bore into his skin from how tightly you were pressing the knife against his skin. “Look at you, thinking you can order me about. It’s adorable really.” 

You moved the blade from his throat and slashed across his cheek, causing him to hiss and flinch, trying to pull away from you, but you kept him in place. You were practically shaking with anger at this point.

“What did I say? Don’t. Fuck. Around.”

Hassan stayed quiet for the first time, looking back up at you. If anything, he felt impressed. Impressed that you would dare to hurt him after he knew that you were aware of the power he had. The power he had over you. Even if you weren’t showing it, he knew that he’d left some sort of psychological pain in there somewhere. He was going to exploit it. He wanted you to crack. He had much enjoyed the three months of watching you slowly fall down a hole, the hope leaving your eyes every time he’d opened the door. He enjoyed leaving you to feel nothing but pain, any emotion draining from your body, leaving you as a hollow shell.

“There was a woman,” he started, surprising you that he was actually divulging the information instead of just dodging it as you had expected him to. “She broke into the facility I was holding the missile in and stole it.”

“I need a name,” you ordered. You knew he had it, he was just playing with you. He had no men left, no army to stand by him. The 141 had taken down his main base and drilled down every single soldier within those walls. Hassan had nothing.

“That scar suits you,” he blocked the question, and you just rolled your eyes out of frustration. 

“Do you want another scar on your own face?” You held the knife against the inner corner of his eye. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need eyes to tell me what I need to know.”

“Easy, little girl-”

“Officer. Call me little girl again and I will take both of your eyes out of your head, Hassan.”

Hassan just smiled, your new found confidence both amusing and surprising him. He’d always liked that little spark of fire in you. “Valeria. My men said that her team called her Valeria. That’s all I know, officer. If I could tell you more, I would.” You could see on his face that he didn’t know anything more. But you already had a name, you didn’t need anything else from him. Like Price had said, he was disposable now.

“Finally, something useful comes out of your mouth,” you sighed in relief. Hassan relaxed in the chair, assuming you were just about to leave him alone in the shipping container. “Now I don’t have any particular use for you,” you leaned down so your face was inches from his. “I can finally do what I’ve been waiting to do for three months.” His eyes widened as he realised what you meant, and his scream vibrated the hot metal walls of his cell as you slowly dragged the knife deeply across his throat, tearing his artery as you did so. You said you’d make it painful for him if he fucked around, you weren’t kidding about that.

His blood spattered across his clothes, spraying the floor as he suffered. From the position you were in, hovering above him, his blood hit the top of your shirt and painted your neck and your chin bright red. But you didn’t leave after that. You continued to watch, looking into his eyes as you watched the life leave them. You wanted to be the last thing he saw before death.

-

Outside, the boys all jumped as Hassan’s screaming was muffled by the container doors. Price knew what you’d done, and the boys put pieces together pretty quickly. You didn’t come out for a few more minutes, and they were waiting to jump at the opportunity to go in and check on you.

Soap had only taken one step towards the door before it opened on its own. You appeared and everyone’s eyes except Price’s widened as they saw the blood on your upper body, a knife in your hand, Hassan’s blood still dripping from it. “You good, Nix?” Soap asked, as you wiped the knife on your pants.

“Never better, Soap,” you nodded at him before handing the knife back to Price’s outstretched hand. You looked to Alejandro. “There’s a bit of a mess in there, my bad. But your holding cell is free now.” You handed the gun back to Price as well. Price said nothing the entire time, just looking at you with a small ounce of pride in his eyes. “I got a name,” you said, looking to your captain. “Valeria. That’s all he knew.” You missed the way Alejandro sprung to attention at that name. “But if you don’t mind me, I’m going to shower.”

You walked away. The boys watched as you left before Alejandro spoke about his knowledge of Valeria. You should have felt relieved he was gone, you should have felt something. But you just felt empty. Everyone looked at you as you passed, some even nudging fellow soldiers and pointing at the blood on your body, but you didn’t stop or care. 

Making it to your room, you rid yourself of the bloodied clothes and started the shower, feeling the warming comfort of steam hit your naked form as the shower water grew hotter. Scrubbing your face and body of earlier events, you thought back to what you did. Watching Hassan slowly die, and feeling nothing from it. You were glad he was gone. He couldn’t hurt anyone else. He couldn’t hurt you. You sighed. Even dead, he still plagued your thoughts. Shaking him from your thoughts, you finished your shower and wrapped a towel around your body. 

After dressing yourself, you dried your hair with a fresh towel, looking at yourself in the mirror. You regretted wearing a tank top now. Your scars were visible to see. Your arms and chest and neck painted with deep red scarring. The ones on your legs and back were still hidden, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from your arms.

A knock on your door pulled your attention away from the mirror, and you walked to the door, opening it to see Price once again. “Hey, Price,” you smiled, letting him in and going back to the mirror to fix your hair.

“Feeling better?” He asked, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching you. 

“I think so. He’s gone and we have a lead. Everything’s looking a little better for us now,” you nodded at him through the mirror.

“Yeah, I saw the state you left him in,” Price sighed. “That’s some heavy shit.”

“You don’t think he deserved it?” Your tone sounded defensive, and Price jumped to ease the defence. He stood from your bed, walking over to stand behind you, leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom.

“No, rook, I think he deserved all of it. If I could, I would have done worse. Knowing what he did to you, for three months. I wouldn’t have left that room until he was begging me to end it for him.” Price looked at you through the mirror and watched you nod back at him. “But he’s gone. We can move on, you can heal and you’ve got everyone here to be there for you.”

His words comforted you, but you didn’t know how long it was going to take you to heal. “I know, but Hassan is always gonna be there.” Price looked confused and you gestured to your arms for the scars visible to see. “I’m gonna have these for the rest of my life. He put those there. Now he just gets to die without even a memory of me.”

Price looked to his feet with a solemn sigh before moving over to you. He could see himself in the mirror, his eyes visible above your head. Price put his hands on your shoulder tentatively, but you didn’t move to stop him. You just watched him through the mirror, his face coming into view on the left side of your head. “These scars only prove that you survived him. You killed him. A piece of shit with no ability to hurt people anymore is gone, and you get to keep on going. I can’t tell you what to do, rook, but you should be proud of those scars.” His hands ran down your arms softly, and your breath shuddered at his touch. His warm hands felt so right on you. You turned to face him, giving him a small smile. His eyes creased as he smiled back, his hands stopping at your wrists.

“Thanks, John,” you said, looking down to your feet. It was the first time you’d used his first name, and Price didn’t know why his heart jumped at the way you said it. You felt his hand leave your wrist, and the cold feeling it left you with, you didn’t have a reason for. But then you saw his hand move to your chin, tilting your head up to face him. Your heart pumped up to high gear, pounding in your chest. 

“You should be proud. I know I am, proud of you, I mean. You’ve been through hell and you still came out of it better than the other guys,” he said softly.

“Like I’ve said before,” you practically whispered, leaning forward. “I had a good teacher.”

Price smiled, huffing a laugh quietly and making his shoulders shake slightly. “You’re damn right, you did.” Taking a quick, silent breath, you closed the gap between the two of you. Your lips met his softly and all the thoughts zipping through your head telling you this was a bad idea suddenly melted away. Price leaned into the kiss, his other hand on your wrist moving to grip your waist gently. You felt yourself being pressed against the bathroom counter, and you brought your hands up to run up his chest and landing on his cheeks, pulling him closer.

He knew this was wrong. A captain and a rookie. But he didn’t give a shit. Not when it felt so right being this close to you. Touching you. Feeling you ease into the kiss and feeling your hands on his body. He’d wanted all of this and more. Now that he had it, it felt even better than he’d imagined it would be.

You pulled away to breathe, and Price rested his forehead against yours, his hands now both on your waist, his body pressed against yours. Neither of you could say anything about what just happened before a second knock sounded at your door. Why the fuck was everyone always knocking at your door? Why couldn’t they bother someone else for a change? Price patted your waist with one hand and stepped aside so you could answer the door. Thankfully he wasn’t visible from the door, so you wouldn’t have to awkwardly explain why the Captain was in your bathroom.

“Hey, Nix,” Ghost said as you opened the door and smiled up at him.

“Hi, Ghost, everything okay?” You asked, opening the door properly to speak to him.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We just need you in the briefing room when you’re ready. Alejandro knows the woman who took the missile. Rodolfo’s tracking her now,” Ghost answered as his eyes drifted around your room before back to you.

“Okay, yeah let me just put some shoes on, I’ll be there in a second.”

Ghost nodded, stepping back to walk back down the corridor. You moved to shut the door but stopped yourself as he turned back to you. “Got any idea where Price is? He wasn’t in his room. Can’t find him anywhere.”

You shook your head. You probably could have come up with an explanation but your head was firing blanks at you right now. “No, haven’t seen him. If I catch him on the way, I’ll let him know.” Ghost just squinted his eyes briefly before nodding.

You closed the door and took a deep breath. You looked over as Price chuckled lowly from the bathroom. “Good save,” he laughed.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully as he walked out of the bathroom. You put your shoes on quickly and Price held the door open for you, but as you were about to leave, he grabbed your wrist and spun you back around. He kissed one more time before you both made your way to the briefing tent.

“Whatever this is, we can figure out later,” he muttered quietly against your lips after pulling back from the kiss. “Let’s get this mission done, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, stepping out and letting him close your door behind him. You both walked to the briefing tent in comfortable silence. You were kind of glad there was conversation, your head was filled with what just took place in your room.

The boys looked your way as you and Price both entered the room. “Found him pretty quick, didn’t you?” Ghost asked, his tone underlying something you still couldn’t place. Why did he always have to be so sneaky about things?

“Yeah, we ran into each other in the hall,” Price covered, walking to the briefing table and you followed. “What did you find?”

“Valeria,” Alejandro interjected from where he was hovering over Rodolfo at the monitor. He turned to face the table where you were all standing around. “I know her. We trained together. She’s sneaky. Been on my radar for a while but she recently went quiet, most likely since taking the missile.”

Price nodded, looking over to the screen behind him as Rodolfo showed her face on screen for all of you to see. She was pretty, with short and dark hair framing her face. She had a scowl in her photo, the one issued by her training Sergeant to the base. “So she’s good?” Price asked, looking over to Alejandro who nodded in response.

“One of the best they ever trained. She went rogue a couple of years ago, off the grid completely until I found her a few months ago. I always had a suspicion she was up to something, so I kept tabs on her.”

“Well good thing you did,” Price pointed out. “Any idea of her last known location?”

Alejandro looked to Parra and he made a few clicks on the computer until an overhead shot of a mansion was on screen. It wasn’t a very big area, but you could make out a dozen or so men surrounding the compound. Guards there for protection. “We can get in,” Alejandro pointed at a fenced gate on the south section of the mansion’s perimeter. “Go through here, make our way up to the mansion,” his finger dragged to the house and the backdoor on the left hand side. “Quick and easy, in and out. We get Valeria, and if the missile’s there too, we get them both.”

Everyone was nodding, happy with the plan in place. “Sounds good to me,” Price said, his eyes tracing over the routes and blindspots with any cover that they could use to their advantage. “Let’s do this. Wheels up in thirty.” The team dispersed to ready themselves until it was only you, Price, Vargas and Parra left. Alejandro and Rodolfo looked over the monitor screen, conversing their best approach while Price made his way to you, who stood staring at the screen of the mansion and its perimeter. “Ready for your first mission back, Rook?”

“Always, Captain,” you gave Price a small smile, of which he returned immediately. “The sooner we get the missile and finish this, the sooner we can go home.” Home. you couldn’t wait to be back in your own house, your own bed. You’d missed more than you realised since being here.

“Alright then,” Price nodded, looking to the floor. “Gear up then. One last job. Then we’re done with this whole shit.” You couldn’t agree more. Once the missile was taken care of, you could finally move on from this. Or at least try to. You gave Price one last smile before walking out, feeling his eyes on you as you exited the tent. You still had that to figure out. As much as you wanted to, you had to prioritise.

Nothing else could go wrong.

You couldn’t afford for it to.

II

taglist:

@cumbermovels @lacunaanonymoused

#call of duty #cod #captain price #ghost #sion riley #soap mctavish #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #modern warfare 2 #smut #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #captain price smut #angst

[gu3ntzel]

this is me taking an interest in your ocs 👁️👁️

OCS!!!! 🥹♥️ the most specialist ocs in my heart, all from the random bullshit im writing

tim: is just a baby!!!! lil baby boy who just wants to be good at baseball!!! “im the baseball boy, im the one who WINS” is an only child who’s mom abandoned him w his dad when he was young (young enough to have memories of her but not totally remember wha she was like) and his dad hattteesss him! thought he wasn’t skilled enough to learn anything else so just taught him baseball cos tim was good at him! this little guy has self esteem issues up the WAZOO! little man was rejected by the love of his life (demps) then made a deal w a demon and demps was like “hey, i made a mistake of calling things off out of fear, can we try again?” and he’s like oh!!!! everything i could ever want!!! and then is painfully reminded he doesn’t :’) he just wants demps and baseball but nooo he’s gotta have a little demon messing everything up for him. It all works out in the end (almost), tim sacrifices his arm to be with demps and they live the rest of their lives together :’)

demps: mr catcher man!!! east coast boy who had a (nearly) perfect childhood!! decided to play baseball instead of going into the family business and ended up with the traveling team. literally like fell in love with tim at first sight despite the fact that tim was quiet and standoffish!!! literally had a panic attack after like a year or so of them dating that their manager would kick them both out if he found out so he broke it off to protect tim, it ended up hurting them both so he eventually asks for tim back!! and he expects to be rejected but Tim says yes!! then his hearts broken when Tim says they need to take a break but he wants to respect it. has 0 clue his lil man’s made a deal with a demon. eventually he gets jumped outside of a bar and beaten, is taken to the hospital and may never play again, but as long as he has tim he’s ok w it:’) and he does!!! tim comes back and they find jobs together and yeah they may have to move later but he’s so happy!!! he’s got his man!!

casey: oh this man is a BASTARD!!!! hockey man who’s a nepo baby. his dad played and won a cup and expected his sons to do the same. too bad his dad’s a psycho and murdered his brother, sister and mom! casey got away purely bc he was at hockey practice and when he returned to the house he saw his sister’s body through the gap in the door and called the police. now he’s traumatized and has to live up to these expectations for his mom and siblings. he makes it but hes traded by like, three different teams and he’s not very good. eventually he makes it onto the same team w his childhood bf julian and wants to make it last, but he keeps fuckinf up!!! man just wants to make a team his home:( he just wants to belong!!! also yes bi and has a thing for julian but don’t you tell him that!!! it upsets him

julian: gay goaltender!!! he grew up with casey and they’ve been close friends for a long time. he’s really the only one who knows what happened to casey and can actually ask about it, everyone else gets denied. julian’s supposed to be a franchise goaltender but he doesn’t want that!!! he doesn’t want to live with the expectations that brings him. he didn’t ask for everyone to take interest in him but he hopes to live up to their expectations. he also understands that there’s people who’d kill to have that sort of stability as long as his play remains consistent enough. he feels like he’s being pulled both ways with his loyalty to the team and loyalty to his friend.

nate: captain nate!!!! no nonsense SOB who may or may not have murdered a man. he’ll do anything for this team and anything to win. despite welcoming casey into the team he low key hates him and thinks he should be traded, but plays nice because they eventually become d-partners. he wants to murder casey high key but his A’s miry and ukko are like “dude what are you doing….” probably should be in jail

also here’s the playlist for each of their novels if anyone wants to listen:’) tim + demps casey + julian + nate

#fnsbsn ty!!! for taking an interest!!!! here’s some spam ♥️

[duskwell]

mun -- 21+, they/he. call me glitch or will. i love world-building and character creation.

blog -- for my ocs, inspo, etc. things will be tagged with names. sometimes there will be nsf/uu content, blood, injuries, angst, etc.

feel free to send in asks / @ me in things. i block minors! :)

information on characters under the cut. not all my ocs are here, not by a long shot. but here's the ones i want here.

("hey, what about [story based character of mine]?" check out @daemoniumscribere ! archer is holding all that stuff on his blog for me instead. this is mostly for my standalone ocs and non-serious stories.)

FANDOM OCS.

Mykonen / Mykos - Minecraft oc, originally made for Darkwood. He/they. Formerly an overworld Guardian that was dragged into The End to seal away the Ender Dragon. After thousands of years, he finds himself in the Overworld again, knowing that it is once again in danger. Along the way, he meets a number of people he grows to care deeply for. But, will that be enough? (important other ocs: Iefyr; the son of a village elder that is magic-touched and chooses to follow Mykos on his adventure. Pelri; An allay that Mykos frees from a pillager camp.)

Captain Wren Lux - In Space with Markiplier / Markiplier cinematic universe oc. He/they. The captain of the Invincible II. A strange individual with an even stranger past and a very powerful enemy.

Nikita Melnik - Bioshock oc. He/him. A reporter and Andrew Ryan's personal lapdog. Determined to ruin Fontaine, even if it means getting his shit absolutely wrecked.

Sabriel Gavreilis / Arbor - Fallen London oc. He/him. Came to the fallen city on a holy mission after being told by a celestial being that he had to go. Ends up on a hell of an adventure and meeting his wife and best friend.

Aria LeBlanc - Fallen London oc. She/her. Has been in the fallen city awhile, was brought here against her will. Became a very powerful business woman despite that. Helps Sabriel and his future wife meet and also escape.

NON-FANDOM OCS.

Lenka Dehaven - they/he. part of a dying race of alien referred to as 'star sirens'. was being used aboard a ship as a weapon until they finally had enough and snapped, attacking the ship and causing it to crash land on a planet. Dr. Dehaven finds them among the rubble and sneaks them home, pseudo adopting them. Eventually they become a space traveller. probably.

Dr. Robert Hawk - he/him. his wife was taken away by an eldritch rip in space time, now he's gotta raise their daughter alone and deal with the fact that he's traumatized as fuck from the experience. he's also corrupted and his tachyons are all fucky.

Loreno Reyes - they/them. the voice of the apocalypse, a young adult who locks themself up in a radio tower duing the zombie apocalypse. they now keep morale up as best they can, passing comunications throughout the various camps.

Lark Smith - he/him. a hacker that used to be apart of a very dangerous collective. now he just does illegal shit on the internet and helps girls that get harassed at bars. trans.

Elijah Claude Debroux - he/him. decently high ranking demon that handles the legal side of contracts. can control hell hounds and send them after people wh try to break their contracts. southern bastard.

ITS COMPLICATED / THEY HAVE A SET STORY.

Killian Riley - 7 days to die / zombie media oc. he/him. trans. formerly studying to become an engineer, basing on robotic science. now, he's stuck in the zombie apocalypse.

777 - she/they. the M in the CMYK group of an internet collective / federation that is meant to keep the physical cyberspace safe. extremely gay for 999.

999 - she/her. trans. the C in the CMYK group. intelligence officer. Spade / Masami Ikeda - he/they. magical person oc. their world is fucked up forreal.

Diamond / Lana Belrose - she/her. magical person oc. part of spade's group.

Myde Hallita - he/him. ish. he doesnt care. teacher, dad, will infodump about stupid shit.

August Marcrum - he/they. final girl syndrome in a boy. his sister and her girlfriend fucked with his boyfriend too much, and now a whole group of friends is dead. too bad he doesnt care.

Ard Hajek - he/him. my oldest oc i love him so much. former assassin, now dad and professor.

#pinne

[iwaasfairy]

⛩ i think i should have elaborated!! that was a question for stepdaddy oikawa, sorry for the confusion! i think atsuko would be ballsy enough to do that

No no it’s my bad I was confusing mYSELF OSODOFOFPFP (´•ω•̥`) but yes yes Atsuko would absolutely dare and if you can somehow keep Tooru from joining in he would get sooooo antsy and get more jealous and frustrated by the second ; ^; he probably wouldn’t let it happen unless he’s in a position where he absolutely cANT leave.

Just imagine the guys are visiting and they’re having drinks in the living room,, and Tooru suddenly notices you with a hand clamped over your mouth as Atsu presses you to the wall and fucks you right in view of his dad because he’s too daring,, and Tooru can’t do anything because if he even acknowledges you two the guests will turn and spot you,, so he’s just seething in place watching you tear up and get your pussy pounded 💝💓💕💘 we love to see it

#poor Tooru pKKSSLLSOD ALL HE WANTED WAS HIS STEPDAUGHTEF #and now he’s gotta deal with his son being a bastard instead #pJKXKDOFLDLJKSKS serves him right honestly #tw.incest #tw.voyeurism #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.oikawa #💫oc.atsuko #⛩ nonnie

[maxbegone]

hey, hi, hello! i have a theory! 

the loveliest @doublel27​ shared this screengrab from next week’s promo and got me thinking about a few things.

what we know: 

3x13 is tarlos-heavy. it has to do with tk’s past and carlos understanding what it’s like to be in love with an addict.

mentioned here:

2. minear mentions in the interview that carlos is going to be very much involved with what goes down in 3x12 and Dirty Cop Bastard (derogatory). 

note: physically

the theory:

based on the screengrab, carlos has absolutely been drugged. he collapses, he’s vacantly staring off somewhere, he’s limp. so, this is what i’m thinking - he's going to be drugged (this is also leading to my possible kidnapping theory i had, but i haven’t delved too deeply into that), he's going to deal with withdrawals because of it, and tk’s going to lose it for a second. because he's never been in the position of being this..."spectator," but this hits home even more.

and it could be far-fetched but, something about this makes me think of the big heat (2x11) - "you took the most important thing in the world from me, now i'm going to take it from you,” when raymond rigged carlos’ townhouse to catch fire. 

which leads to this: dirty cop bastard doesn't know about tk, he just knows owen (and in extension, marjan). but to get under someone’s skin, to really press on the most painful of bruises, the guy’s gotta do some research. remember - dirty cop bastard. he does his research, i’m absolutely sure he has some pulls somewhere, and eventually gets around to figuring out that owen has a son.  dcb goes off and looks into their histories, finds out that tk is a recovering addict and decides he’s going to take him away from owen. he figures out where he lives with the intentions of drugging him, forcing tk back into his past self, but...he gets carlos instead. an act fast, don’t check kind of thing. and hey, i could be absolutely wrong here, too, and dcb’s plan is to get carlos as well (or alone). dcb panics and leaves, realizes what he did and rolls with it, or maybe it was his plan all along. tk finds carlos face-down, and from there we roll into 3x13.

this whole thing is what leads to the talks we’re going to see tk and carlos have in 3x13 because now, in a way and very unfortunately, carlos gets it. he understands. and it’s going to hurt to watch, but i personally am very ready.

i’m both scared and very intrigued, but mostly pissed that this guy got out.

#911 lone star #911 ls #911 lone star spoilers #911 ls spoilers #911 ls spec #lone star spoilers #tk strand #carlos reyes #tarlos #LISTEN. #it's just at theory. #911 ls speculation

[bellakitse]

Friendships, Proposals and Tabitha the Cat

Nancy waits until it’s firmly locked before she turns to Carlos. “Dude,” she says, putting a hard emphasis on the word. “Give that man his ring already.”

+

Nancy’s friendship with Carlos and TK grows when she stays with them while her place is rebuilt – she helps Carlos work up the nerve to propose to TK.

Written for @911lonestarweek - Day 3: Found Family/“We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Following ‘Making friends in Life or Death situations’

Nancy Gillian wakes up the same way she has for the last four weeks – in Carlos and TK’s guest bedroom with her cat Tabitha scratching at the door because she can hear TK moving around the house, and she wants to leave Nancy to go find him. Her cat is in love with TK, because of course she is.

“If you love him so much, why don’t you sleep with him?” she questions her cat, still half-asleep and annoyed to be woken up so early on her day off. “Instead, you sleep with your butt in my face and then leave me for that pretty boy before 7 a.m.”

Tabitha meows at her in response, looking so unimpressed and impatient all at once it’s almost impressive.

“Not sure what you’re going to do when our apartment is repaired,” she continues, easily ignoring the stink face as she opens the door, letting Tabitha out. “There you go, brat, go to your equally annoying other half.”

Tabitha meows at her once more, the sound coming out vaguely threatening. Nancy shrugs, used to it by now. She looks back at the bed and contemplates diving back under the covers, but as she checks the time to see it’s close to 8 a.m., she thinks better of it. She’s not the only one off-shift in the house today, and if there is one thing she has learned since temporarily moving in with Carlos and TK while contractors work on building back up her tornado-destroyed condo. It’s that when Carlos is off from work, he turns into a gourmet chef who makes the most delicious breakfasts she’s ever tasted in her life.

She heads for the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash up before heading downstairs, following the sound of voices and pots clanking.

“Good morning,” she calls out, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes even after her shower.

Carlos looks up from where he’s cracking eggs to greet her with a smile. “Morning, Nance, there’s coffee,” he points with a tilt of his head towards the coffee machine.

Nancy smiles gratefully and passes TK, who is sitting on one of the counters, holding Tabitha up to his face as he gives her kisses.

“You’ve stolen my cat’s affections, Strand,” she says, rubbing the top of his head in greeting.

“She’s our cat now,” TK corrects her, childishly sticking his tongue out at her. Nancy returns the gesture, always seeming to revert back to a school-grader around her friend and partner.

“Children, behave,” Carlos chides them, sighing tiredly when they give him twin grins.

She steps up next to him, bumping her shoulder against his, getting a fond smile back from the cop and an arm thrown over her shoulders as he hugs her to his side. Since the tornado and subsequently the start of their friendship just a month ago, she and Carlos have bonded to the point that she now considers him something like a brother.

She feels blessed that he seems to feel the same way.

TK had said as much when they’d discovered she was temporarily homeless, offering their home to her without a second thought as she stood in Carlos’ hospital room. She had initially felt awkward about invading their home, used to handling her problems on her own. TK had, in turn, scoffed at her, telling her she was already family to him, but after saving Carlos’ life, as far as he was concerned, she was now their sister. Carlos had nodded in agreement from his bed, and when it made her cry in response, not really used to having people caring for her like that since Tim died, TK had pulled her into a tight hug, thanking her once more for taking care of Carlos and assuring her they were there for her. ‘We’ve got your back, no matter what.’

“So what’s on the menu this morning, Chef Reyes,” she asks, coming back from her thoughts to peek at the stove.

“Shakshuka, sweet potato hash and for something sweet strawberries and cream pancake muffins and fruit,” Carlos rattles off quickly, like it’s an effortless breakfast and not a menu she would find at some fancy restaurant for brunch. “What?” he questions when she looks at him in amazement.

She turns towards TK when he lets out a laugh to find a look of understanding on his face. “Can you believe this guy?” she questions, getting another longer, louder chuckle from her partner.

“I really can’t sometimes,” he answers her while looking at Carlos with heart eyes. “He’s just too good to be true,” he continues, turning towards Tabitha when she licks his face. “Isn’t he Tabi? Isn’t Carlos just perfect?”

Tabitha meows at TK’s baby voice, budding her head against his.

“See, she agrees,” TK beams in their direction. “She’s so smart.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, finally pouring herself that cup of coffee. “She just likes the sound of your voice; she doesn’t really understand.”

“Yes, she does. Watch,” TK argues. “Tabitha Gillian, listen to me. Is Carlos the most amazing guy in the world?”

Nancy looks from TK to Carlos, smirking as she sees the beginnings of a blush work its way up his neck.

Tabitha meows at TK, causing him to grin.

“Do we love him more than anything, even more than catnip?” he continues to ask earnestly, though Nancy can see the glint of mischievousness in his eyes that tells her he’s messing with Carlos because he likes it when his boyfriend goes bashful.

Tabitha, either because she really does understand TK or because she’s an agent of chaos, makes another noise.

“That’s why I’m going to marry him, and you’re going to be our ring bearer,” TK says to her, going in for the kill. He starts to kiss Tabitha all over her little orange head, not even getting his eyes scratched out because he’s a lucky bastard, not noticing the way Carlos has frozen over their breakfast.

His wide eyes find hers, and she raises an amused eyebrow at him as she takes a sip of her coffee, letting him know without words she remembers his ring comment from the day of the tornados, smirking when he scowls at her.

He clears his throat, giving TK a loving smile when he looks up from his lovefest with her cat. “Breakfast is ready, baby,” he tells him, already moving towards the dining room table with two plates, placing them for her and TK before getting his own.

They don’t talk much as they eat; she and TK are too busy making appreciative noises to speak, and Carlos looks at them fondly while they do.

TK finishes before them, getting up from the table in a rush. “Okay, that was delicious, but I gotta go,” he says as he gathers his plate. “Dad has his eight-month post-surgery appointment, and I told him I would meet him at the doctor’s office,” he reminds them. “I won’t be back until the evening. We’re spending the day together for some father-son bonding afterwards.”

He goes around the table to Carlos, taking his face in his hands as he leans in to kiss him. “Thank you for breakfast, babe,” he whispers with a smile against Carlos’ mouth. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Carlos answers, giving him another sweet kiss of his own. Nancy smiles at the display. They have always been an affectionate couple, but seeing TK and Carlos in the privacy of their home has truly shown her just how deeply they love each other.

TK comes around the table to her, giving her a kiss on the top of her head before leaning down to scratch Tabitha’s ears. “You three be good,” he warns them with a teasing smile as he heads for the door.

Nancy waits until it’s firmly locked before she turns to Carlos. “Dude,” she says, putting a hard emphasis on the word. “Give that man his ring already.”

“Nance – “ Carlos starts, already sighing.

“He’s practically screaming, ‘propose to me!’, Carlos,” she continues, ignoring him. “I’m pretty sure he’s ready to hire a skywriter at this point if you don’t take the hint.”

“I can’t just propose, chica,” Carlos answers back tiredly, running a hand through his hair. “It needs to be perfect. TK deserves perfect.”

Nancy rolls her eyes so hard, she thinks she might strain something. “TK is madly in love with you. You could literally propose while on the toilet, and he would still think it’s perfect.”

She snorts when Carlos wrinkles his nose at her in disgust. Drinking the last of her coffee, she waits quietly as he thinks, finally raising an eyebrow at him when he opens his mouth to speak.

“What if he says no?” he asks her quietly, and Nancy feels a spark of empathy for her friend, but mostly she feels annoyed at his ridiculous question.

“You’re not injured anymore,” she starts dryly, rolling her eyes at him again when he gives her a confused look. “I can and will hit you across the head for being stupid.”

Carlos gives her a dry look of his own, though his lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “You’re so nice; remind me why we’re friends again?”

“Because I saved your life,” she answers matter of fact, smiling when it makes Carlos laugh. “And me being nice wasn’t part of the deal, dude.”

Carlos shakes his head at her, smiling reluctantly. “Well, do you think you can try to be nice for the afternoon and help me plan my proposal?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t really think this talk would work,” she blurts out, her eyes widening with excitement. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

Carlos laughs again, giving her a fond look that she returns. “Okay, then. Let’s do this.”

 ֎֎֎

 TK comes back home after the sun has set. He blinks at her in surprise when she opens the door for him, having heard his car pull up.

“Hey, Nancy,” he says with a smile, his face clear and glowing. He chuckles as she gives him a curious look. “Father-son bonding turned out to be facials,” he explains with a shrug. “You know my dad and skincare.”

Nancy smiles at him, nodding.

“Where is Carlos?” he asks, looking around the living room, and Nancy can’t help herself as she wraps her arms around him, giving him a tight hug.

“I love you both,” she whispers into his ear. “And I’m so glad we’re friends.”

TK returns the hug before pulling back to look at her with a bemused expression on his face. “We love you too, girl.”

“I know,” she answers, feeling her heart warm for her friends and what she knows is about to happen. “Carlos is waiting for you in the backyard.”

“Oh, okay,” TK says, smiling, starting to walk towards the back door, stopping when he sees she isn’t following him. “You’re not coming?”

She shakes her head at him. “This is just for the two of you, honey, but for the record, I’m really happy for you.”

TK gives her another curious look before he continues to make his way to the back while Nancy goes to sit on the couch. She smiles when she hears TK gasp as he opens the door to find the yard covered in twinkly white lights. Her smile only grows as he looks back at her with wide eyes.

“I’ll be here,” she calls out to him, waving him forward.

She pulls out her phone, scrolling through her messages, smiling softly when she finds one from her contractor letting her know her place should be ready in another week.

Tabitha meows at her from the stairs, and she pats the space next to her on the couch, cooing at her baby when she comes to rest beside her.

“You’re going to be a ring bearer,” she tells her cat as she hears TK shout out a ‘yes!’ from the backyard. “Won’t that be fun, Tabitha?”

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #lonestarweekend #lsweekend2021 #nancy gillian #nancy & carlos #tk x carlos #my writing

[hermannsthumb]

Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!

Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"

15. Bobbing For Apples

from autumn fic prompts here

KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good

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

It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of—well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).

Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.

Hermann is not enjoying either.

"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.

"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"

Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."

"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."

He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.

With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."

Newt stops laughing. "You were?"

"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."

Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.

He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."

"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.

He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...

"Dude," Newt says.

He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"

Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"

Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."

He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."

Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."

Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.

He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"

Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.

"No," Hermann splutters.

Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"

He emerges with another apple in seconds.

Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"

"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.

Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.

Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)

And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.

They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," Newt squeaks.

"It was—"

"I know!"

Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.

"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.

Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.

"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.

Hermann nods again.

"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #hermann's pov in that one bit was just 'mouth............'

[medea10]

My Review of Taisho Maiden Fairytale

How did I get into this anime? Honestly, I think that this was the only romantic comedy that was going to air during the fall anime line-up. And I mean REAL romance and not the office romance of My Senpai is Annoying. So here we go!

Tamahiko Shima is a young man living alone in the countryside. He was banished by his own family after a terrible accident took the family by shock. That accident? Tamahiko and his mother were in a car accident. She dies and Tamahiko permanently injures his dominant hand and is forever seen as useless. So Tamahiko has given up. He will forever live in isolation in the countryside, waiting for death’s sweet embrace.

And then Yuzuki Tachibana enters the room! Originally a student of an all-girl school, she is to be Tamahiko’s bride. In order to keep her family in stable condition (money wise), she was to become a bride to her lender’s son. Yuzuki (or Yuzu) arrives into Tamahiko’s life and turns his once pessimistic point of view into something positive. Tamahiko, who once wished to die after losing everything, finds himself enjoying life with his bought and paid for waifu. Lack of a better term! Even though she is bought and paid for waifu, she’s a perfect waifu!

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: This is a FUNimation exclusive. I was straight-up gob-smacked when I found out that Tamahiko was not voiced by Takahiro Sakurai and Yuzu was not voiced by Manaka Iwami. Damn y’all, got me good! In fact, this was my first time hearing Yuzu’s voice actor. Good job, high praise! I’m assuming FUNimation will one day give this anime a dub, they’ve just been busy with other projects and haven’t really given this anime much attention. As of this date of posting, there has been no word on a dub. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Tamahiko is played by Yuusuke Kobayashi (known for Subaru on Re:Zero, Zel on Interspecies Reviewers, Arthur on Fire Force, Common Cell on Cells at Work, Tanukichi on Shimoneta, and Marui on Food Wars)

*Yuzu is played by Saya Aizawa

DISLIKED CHARACTER: You know, I was ready to throw Tamahiko’s entire family in the trashcan. I might in due time, but I’d like to focus on bastard father of the year. From episode one, there’s so much disdain for this one character. Time and period aside, you do not cast your son aside because his right arm is permanently paralyzed. You just don’t do that! And we’re not just talking about kicking a child out, we’re talking about putting him in an isolated place and then tell people he died. Worst of all, he got his other children to go along with this disgusting lie and put on an act when it comes to marriage deals and such.

Now the reason why I’m focusing more on the father is because of cases like Tamahiko’s sister Tamako. She’s a classic case of what happens when you have parents that cut coddling off at an early age. If something minor happens, her father would just throw money at someone to make it go away. Even though Tamako acts grown up, she’s still a fucking child! I can’t account for the matriarch of the family and her attitude towards her children because she’s dead. But it’s clear from Tamako and Tamahiko’s flashbacks that daddy dearest is indeed to blame.

SHIPPING: Gotta love that bastard family of Tamahiko by throwing a bride at him and being jerk-ass about it. But Yuzu is so wholesome, she reminds me so much of Tohru Honda from Fruits Basket. This ship is the cutest! Yuzu is just what Tamahiko needs in his pessimistic life. She brought life back into him and encouraged him to do so many things throughout the series. Instead of rotting away in the home, he’s going out, making friends, teaching children, and going to school. All thanks to Yuzu’s encouragement. And no matter what, she’s devoted to making him happy and loves him unconditionally.

We do get cute moments between these two love birds. Even though they are engaged to be married, they’re obviously new to the love game. Despite the era this anime takes place, they’re still teenagers. Holding hands, kissing, or even saying how much they love each other are new experiences for them. They don’t know how to handle their emotions and no way in hell the parents are going to teach them.

Now I did get worried once they added Ryou. Ryou did a lot of flirting with Tamahiko once it was established that she wasn’t that bad of a human being. But she did cause a big rift between the two love birds after she made up a lie as to how she got Tamahiko’s birthday gift (a bookmark). But thankfully, not even that could have torn these kids away from each other.

ENDING: Yuzu gets a letter from her old school chum. Despite being sent far away, Yuzu still kept in contact with her girlfriend Midori (who is now about to be married and currently pregnant). I’m going to shut up about the fact that these girls are practically teenagers and having to go through this. I just gotta keep telling myself that it was a different time even though this is so wrong. ANYWAYS! Yuzu decides to go away for a week to visit her. These young lovers are to be away from each other for that amount of time. What will Tamahiko do? He’ll survive, he’s a big boy, he’ll be okay! Well, the week passed by rather quickly and…

An earthquake hit!

Wow, and they were specific about the date and time this hit and it even has its own name. Let me look up this, “Great Kanto Earthquake” and see if…

OH DEAR GOD NO!

So on September 1st, 1923, the Kanto region of Japan was struck with a 7.9 earthquake. Many different accounts said the big tremor lasted anywhere between 4 minutes and 10 minutes. Many of the aftershocks were above 6.0. The earthquake caused a fire-storm, a tsunami, and civil unrest between the Japanese and Koreans. The death toll reached up to 100,000 and more.

So Yuzu might be dead. We don’t know. Certainly not Tamahiko! I know Tamahiko is supposed to be the pessimistic one here, but I am very pessimistic about all of this! Look, when I asked for more action for this cutesy rom-com, I didn’t mean a deadly earthquake that killed hundreds of thousands of people. I didn’t know that Yuzu being surrounded by fire in the opening theme was foreshadowing! Don’t kill off Tohru Honda’s possible ancestor!

Tamahiko and Ryou decide to make the long trek from Chiba to Tokyo. Ryou was worried since her little brother was working in Tokyo. Once there, they saw the carnage up close. Luckily, Tamahiko had a nice support team while in town. Ryou helped him look for Yuzu. Tamahiko’s uncle and sister (Tamako) were transferred to this location to help with the ailing. Plus, his friends Hakaru and Kotori were in town helping people as well as him.

Tamahiko thought about this very carefully. After his accident that killed his mother and took the use of his right arm, Tamahiko became extremely pessimistic and was at the point in his life where he didn’t care if he lived or died. It wasn’t until Yuzu came along that things changed for the better. He now gets along with his younger sister and reconnected with his uncle. He’s going to school and has friends. The neighborhood kids trust him. All of this was because Yuzu was there to support him in everything he did and everything he wanted to do. So he’s not going to lose her to this tragedy.

The search for Yuzu had its ups and downs. Fortunately, Tamahiko and Tamako ran into Midori who was thankfully safe and so was her unborn baby. However, she’s unsure of where Yuzu is because during one of the fire storms, Midori and Yuzu were separated. But Tamahiko gets lucky running into two hungry children who say they have an older girl that cared for them but was really injured. It was Yuzu! Tamahiko swoops in and carries her to safety. In Yuzu’s unconscious state, we see a lot of her past including the time Tamahiko’s father purchased Yuzu to become his son’s wife.

Thankfully, Yuzu pulled through and the first thing she sees as she wakes up is Tamahiko. She was so happy to see him alive that she pulled him in and gave him a big smooch. So we get a happy moment among Yuzu, Tamahiko, and friends. Everyone in this group is reunited and expected to make a full recovery. And then Tamahiko’s bastard father enters. Because Tamahiko’s uncle (a renowned doctor) was transferred to Tokyo to help with the injured and dying, bastard father tracked him down for an emergency request. Tamahiko’s youngest brother got severely injured in the earthquake and needs medical attention.

Uncle tells his brother to fuck off, I’m helping people here and you’re not going to bully me away from my post and giving him the name of another doctor who could help. Whether or not bastard father decides to take that offer, the anime doesn’t tell. And while they’re in the same area together, Tamahiko ends up saying he’s glad that his father and the family are safe. Bastard father still treats him like he’s dead. Let’s hope we never see him or his other unpleasant children again.

A month after the tragedy, Tamahiko and Yuzu were able to make it back home to Chiba and kinda pick up the pieces around them. Their house managed to stay sturdy during the quake and aftershocks and Chiba wasn’t as wrecked as other places like Tokyo. So this would be a perfect time to celebrate Tamahiko’s birthday. Unfortunately, Tamahiko wasn’t able to celebrate his birthday because Yuzu was away in Tokyo and that date was the big quake. During the celebration, Tamahiko thanked his big support-net of friends and loved ones for everything. And we end with a kiss of Tamahiko and Yuzu.

Okay, I love happy endings and everything, but I can’t really buy the fact that everyone in Tamahiko’s inner circle (and then some) were safe from that earthquake. Did you get a load of that kill-count? This earthquake took out a lot, even in surrounding areas of Tokyo and outer-lands. There were fire storms! FIRE! STORMS! Tamahiko is one lucky son-of-a-gun to have all his friends, family members, and relations come out of this tragedy alive. But aside from my thoughts on that matter…

So cute! This anime was just too cute for words. I was so happy in the first episode watching this that Tamahiko didn’t turn out to be a jerk considering his up-bringing. I want more from this story. I want to see Tamahiko and Yuzu get married. I know they gave me imaginations from Ryou and Tamako imagining Yuzu in a wedding dress, but I want the real thing. Now is it possible we could get another season?

If this series was popular enough, then I sure hope so. I believe there is enough material between the time the anime ends and where the manga ends. However, this might be a case where they want to keep this anime pure with the Tamahiko x Yuzu aspect. Apparently, things get hot and heavy in the manga. I personally would love to see more of this series, even if it involves having to see Tamahiko’s bastard father again. But what do you think? Is this a cute, overlooked series? I say give it a watch!

If you would like to watch this maiden fairy tale (pardon the pun), FUNimation has all of the episodes available for streaming.

#anime review #taishou otome otogibanashi #taisho maiden fairy tale #yuzuki tachibana #tamahiko shima #ryou atsumi

[huilian]

Eugenides, mathematics, and the people that he loves.

or, 12 times mathematics was involved, in some way or another, between our favorite bastard of a king and the people he has made a family out of.

or, that math degree gotta get used  somehow

2.

“If you’re going to lurk from the ceiling, Eugenides, you might as well come down and help me,” Eddis said.

In front of her was a string of numbers that should have represented the entirety of her country’s taxes, but none of it made sense to her. She knew all the basics, of course, but they didn’t expect her to be queen, and by the time she was her father’s heir, she was too busy trying to learn everything else that the thought of learning the intricate system of taxes did not even cross her mind.

She was regretting that now.

“Well, it seemed rude to interrupt your brooding session, Your Majesty,” Eugenides said, landing next to her without so much as a whisper of a sound.

She glared at him in the empty room she was in, having already sent everybody out. Her advisors meant well, but they kept talking over each other in their eagerness to explain this to her, and instead of helping her understand it, that just made the numbers seem even more confounding.

“I was not brooding,” she said.

“If you say so, My Queen,” Eugenides grinned. “Now, do you want me to explain this to you, or was this covered in one of the few classes you did not skip?”

She glared again, but she pointed at one entry, embarrassingly high on the list, and said, “Start there.”

8.

“Remind me, Costis,” the King said, “your father is a farmer, is he not?”

Costis blocked the King’s attack— he still insisted on sparring with Costis every morning, even though he now had an abundance of sparring partners to choose from— and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The King hummed, and Costis pushed forward, trying to get at least one hit on Eugenides when he was still distracted. Instead of reaching his target, however, his training sword flew out of his hands and he found himself with a wooden sword placed gently upon his chest.

“My win, I believe, Costis,” the King said with a smile. “I think that’s enough for the day.”

“Your Majesty?” Costis asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Costis,” Eugenides replied. “Come, sit in the shade next to me, and tell me about your father’s farm. The sun is much too hot today.”

Costis frowned, but he knew already that the best way to deal with his King when he was like this was to indulge his whims. So he took the King’s sword, retrieved his own, placed them where the rest of the practice swords were located, and sat down next to Eugenides, answering all of his questions about the way his father determines how much seeds he should buy and how many people he should hire.

*

Teleus picked up a piece of paper that was not there the last time he left his office, locked with the only key on his own belt.

The paper was filled with numbers and equations from one end to the other, and after skimming it quickly, Teleus can see that it contained the beginnings of a plan on how to sufficiently reduce the Guard with minimal compromises on its function.

Sighing, he picked up the paper and a flagon of wine, and made his way to Relius’s quarters. It would not help the headache that’s already starting to form, but at the very least he would have someone to talk to. And to share wine with.

3.

 Sophos,

 I think I caught where that extra one half is coming from. Tell the Magus that it is his fault that this equation does not balance. That extra one half is supposed to be there. You can find the proof attached in this letter.

 That said, are you getting better at this quicker than I expected, o Useless the Younger? I should write the Magus to tell him to provide you with harder problems to solve. You have not asked for my help even once in the last few weeks.

 Your friend, Eugenides

10.

“What do you think of that new proof from the continent? That you can find distance by finding an area?”

A few short years ago, Kamet would have jumped in shock. Nowadays, however, he was far too used to Eugenides’s antics to be truly shocked.

“I think, Your Majesty,” he said, “that my topic of choice is poetry and history, and that any discussion about mathematics is better done with your youngest attendant. The gods know he could focus on little else.”

Eugenides waved his hand in such a manner as to fully frustrate Kamet. Truly, only Attolis could manage to cause such contempt in such a little movement.

“I will ask him later, when I want my argument ripped to shreds. But I want to know your thoughts, Kamet.”

“My interest in mathematics is in bookkeeping only, Your Majesty.”

“Ah, don’t play coy with me,” Eugenides replied. “I know you better than that.”

Kamet narrowed his eyes, but the arguments are already starting to form in his head. He briefly lamented the fact that he would not be able to finish his translation work today, because from previous experience, once this discussion started, it will not stop until the bell rings for dinner time, and he has promised Costis that he would not work in candlelight only for the health of his eyes.

Eugenides grinned, like he knew that he had already won this battle. He probably did, that little bastard of a king.

“Fine,” Kamet sighed. “I think that it’s plausible. If the speed is constant, then it’s just a rectangle, is it not? We can then infer that-”

They talked long after that, discussing the merits and demerits of the idea. Eugenides disappeared just before the bell rang to call the court for dinner, however, as if he knew Kamet’s thoughts from earlier and decided to spite him even more.

Kamet couldn’t even be mad about it.

7.

“Do you not believe my story, Relius?” the king asked.

A mere month ago, Relius would not have deigned to answer. A mere month ago, Eugenides would not have told the story. But now, in the time when only men plagued with nightmares are awake, Relius said, “I somehow doubt you managed to calculate the volume of that bath in such a short time, Your Majesty.”

Eugenides clicked his tongue, and said, “It’s just a cylinder. Or close enough to one that it doesn’t matter.” He leaned back on his chair and asked, “Surely you know how to do that quickly enough?”

“I confess I have not practiced that in a long time, Your Majesty.”

“More important matters in your mind?”

Court intrigues and spy networks. Letters written in codes that only he can break and knowledge that he has long since imparted to his queen. None of that matters anymore, now.

Instead of answering the question, Relius said, “Maybe I’ll learn how to do that. After.”

“Maybe,” the king replied. He pulls on the blanket covering Relius’s body, adjusting it so that all of Relius’s limbs are properly underneath it. All four of them.

They didn’t talk again for the rest of the night.

9.

“Two of your trousers are currently being mended, Your Majesty, and three more are in the wash, so the choice tonight is between the blue pair or the deep brown pair. I’ve chosen the blue, and paired it with that coat you just commissioned,” Philologos explained.

“That’s good, Philologos, thank you,” the king said, absentmindedly pulling his undershirt off. He unclasped the cuff of his hook, handed them to Hilarion, who was standing next to him, and entered the bath.

Seeing that everything is well under control, Philologos shared a nod with Hilarion, and then turned to go retrieve the aforementioned trousers and coat.

Before he could do that, however, the king called out, “Philologos?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” he answered.

“Two added with three added with two does not make eight,” Attolis said.

Philologos blinked, baffled with the apparent absurdity of the statement. He was just about to chalk it up to Eugenides being Eugenides and simply agree with the king, before he realized what was going on.

He blanched.

“I…” he stammered, unsure as to what to say, when Hilarion also realized what was going on and laughed.

“I thought your education was better than that, Philo,” Hilarion teased. “What would your father say, if he knew that his only heir forgot how to do basic addition?”

“I…” Philologos stammered again, trying to find words to defend his honor, but the king interjected before he could do that.

“I am honored, Philologos, that you have chosen to emulate me in this.” Eugenides grinned, before continuing, “Though I wish that you would have chosen something better than my trousers to steal.”

Behind him, Philologos could hear the rest of the attendants snickering, and that was enough fuel to make him shout, “Four! Four of your trousers are in the wash, Your Majesty!” without even considering what that outburst would cost him. He could feel his cheeks turning red, and he gritted out, “Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and retrieve your clothes for dinner.”

He turned around, fully intending to block any and all comments, when the king called out, “Don’t steal this pair too, Philologos!” adding fuel to the laughter from the attendants.

But when he handed the trousers to the king after he had finished his bath, Eugenides pulled him close, and whispered, “If you’re going to steal any of my trousers, take the red one.” A burst of hot air hit Philologos’s ear, the tell-tale sign that the king is laughing. “The embroidery is in gold.”

4.

“Eight ships,” the Eddisian Minister of War said to his son. “Eight ships, and you asked for?”

“Twenty men,” Eugenides replied.

“That’s,” he paused for a moment to recheck his calculations, “two men a ship.” He looked at Eugenides, frowned, and said, “That’s not possible.”

“I didn’t propose to burn all eight of them. Four,” Eugenides said, lifting up his fingers. “Maybe even five if we’re lucky,” he lifted up the one finger he had left.

His father very deliberately did not look at Eugenides’s other arm, which has no more fingers to lift up. “That is still five men a ship, Eugenides,” he said, “without any scouts or people standing guard.”

Eugenides simply shrugged, and replied, “I can do it.”

A year ago, he could. The Minister of War frowned even deeper, and said, “Thirty. Twenty for your plan, five for scouts, four to stand guard, and one just in case.”

Eugenides’s mouth curled in a discontented line, but he sighed and said, “Alright. Thirty it is.”

6.

“It was the type of wheat,” Eugenides mumbled next to Irene’s ear.

They were tangled together on top of her sheets, their legs twined together and their heads pillowed on the same bed. Wheat was the furthest thing from Irene’s mind, but still, she hummed a note to tell him to go on.

“Artadorus,” her husband continued, his eyes still half closed. “He reported a different kind of wheat than what he planted. You charge a different rate for the different kinds.”

Irene hummed again. She would have found out, eventually. She has many people in her tax offices employed to do just that. One of them would have found out the deceit and brought it to her or Relius, and the fraud would have been exposed, just the same. It would not have been as effective, but it would still have reached her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that it was not just her who charges a different rate for the taxes, but one glance at his face caused her to remain silent. They could be kings and queens again in the morning, but tonight, they are simply husband and wife.

She rolled over to face him, and said, “Tell me again in the morning,” before kissing him.

He did not say anything about wheat again until the sunrise entered the windows of the room.

11.

"I think a triangle only has three sides, Pheris, and not four," Eugenides said, materializing somewhere behind the young Baron Erondites.

For his part, the Baron Erondites looked at the work he was completing, saw the mistake, and started signing things that he had decided were curses.

Attolis laughed.

"Surely that is not as debilitating as that?"

I would have to redo this whole section, Pheris signed with one hand. The other hand was already scratching things out on his parchment with a speed that truly belies his frustration.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," Eugenides said, sitting next to him. "You would only have to change…"

A pause, and then Annux of the Hephestian Peninsula hissed out something that would truly shock all the new ambassadors from the Continent and made his wife glare at him for saying that in front of the children. "You need to redo the whole section," Eugenides deadpanned.

Pheris just glared at him, and scratched out, 'I told you so', somewhere in the midst of the mess his parchment was becoming.

12.

"Why do we have to learn this?" the Princess of Attolia complained.

Her brother, also looking dejectedly at his own work, nodded in agreement.

"Because, my little thief," her father said, "one day, you might find yourself on a ledge too far for you to jump, and you have to calculate how many pics you can trust your own skill and how many you have to trust our god for." He turned to his son, and continued, "And you, my future king, will one day have someone telling you that seventeen horses each carrying three sacks of grain somehow amounts to having forty sacks, and you will have to disabuse them of that notion immediately."

The twins looked at each other for a moment, before Hector said, “But we knew how to do that already. That is simple geometry and arithmetics. This is not that.”

Eugenia nodded, and added, “Even Mother said that her own education did not come this far. So, Father, why do we have to learn this?”

Eugenides blinked, before chuckling softly. “I see,” he said, after a while. He sat atop the table that the twins were using to write, and continued, “It seems I have done you both a disservice.

“I ask you to learn this because no matter who you are, whether you are an okloi or a watchmaker or a king or a thief, or perhaps, even the gods themselves, the logic of mathematics will still be the same. There are no lies in mathematics, nor are there deceit.”

He paused there, staring at things that neither Eugenia nor Hector could see. Seconds passed in silence, and Eugenia opened her mouth, ready to bring their father back to the present with a remark, but before she could do that, Hector jabbed her in the stomach and shook his head.

Their patience was rewarded when Eugenides sighed and propelled himself from the table he was sitting on. “But you are right,” he said, plucking the pens from their hands, Eugenia’s first, and then Hector’s. “Both of you certainly already have the skills needed to fulfill your duties. Anything more will just be a fool’s errand.” He jumped up the table again, this time landing feet first and facing them, half-bowing with the pens he took from them just earlier offered in his hand.

“A fool’s errand,” he said, eyes twinkling, “or a quest for the wisest of men.”

Eugenia and Hector stared at their father, and then at each other, before taking the pens from their father’s hand.

5.

 In your last letter to me, you told me that a man’s worth is what he is, added to what he does. Then tell me this, Magus. What if that is not enough?

 Gen, I thought your knowledge of mathematics is better than that.

 If addition is not enough, then try multiplication.

1.

“Ah, no,” Stenides said, looking over Gen’s shoulder. “That three should not be there.”

“No?”

“No,” Stenides answered, pointing at the calculations in front of his little brother. “See how you didn’t carry over that one,” he moved his fingers to the next number, “and so this one should have been four.”

Eugenides looked at the paper in silence for a moment, and then let out a string of curses that he definitely should not have heard yet, let alone repeat. But of course, Gen being Gen, he has, and Sten couldn’t help but chuckle along.

After he finished his string of curses, Gen moaned, “I’m never going to get it.”

“I thought you’re going to be the next Thief of Eddis?” Stenides teased. “How are you going to do that when you can’t even do additions?”

His little brother looked at him with murder in his eyes, however, and Sten quickly raised his hands in surrender. Eugenides’s revenge was already legendary, no matter how young the boy still was.

“I joke, I joke!” he said. Then, he smiled down at his little brother, ruffled his hair, and said, “You’ll get it. I know you would.”

#queen's thief #eugenides #lian writes #alright imma tag every single character #eddis helen #costis ormentiedes #teleus #kamet e dai annux #relius #philologos #hilarion #minister of war #attolia irene #eugenia #hector #pheris erondites #stenides #magus of sounis

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Part 11 - James Hook

(first gif is supposed to be harriet fighting, dunno if it comes across) also lots of Gifs here srry

Warning!  Graphic depiction of violence!

(a/n): i suggest reading this by listening to the potc sound track starting with “the black pearl” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP-BeFi58tQ&list=PL263677A4D1B673E4&index=3 )

=

Jay blearily opened his eyes, groaning at the soft beam of sun that was blinding him. He quickly sat up as the printer beeped and the wand was only seconds away from being finished. “Carlos” he muttered, smacking his arm when he didn’t respond “Carlos!”

Carlos snorted as he snapped awake, glaring at Jay before his eyes drifted to the now just finished wand. They slowly stood from their chairs, Carlos opening the printer and grabbing the wand. Carlos turned the wand in his hands, pursing his lips in an impressed pout as the wand was seamlessly perfect. “not bad”

Jay nodded, slipping the phony wand from Carlos’ grip and into his own, nodding towards the door “let's go, its” he checked Carlos’ phone, which read 10:45 am “shit come on, I’d rather be just a bit earlier than be late and risk losing Ben” Carlos nodded, about to walk out the door with Jay when he remembered your plan.

He turned back, whistling for Dude “Come on buddy, you’re gonna help!” Dude barked with an excited yip and barreled off his bed, bolting out the door and to the main area, waiting for the boys. “come on what are we waiting for!” Carlos and Jay shared a look and rolled their eyes, following after Dude.

They made it outside, Jay quickly hiding the wand behind his back as Doug came up to them “Hey guys, have you seen Evie….or anyone else for that matter?” Jay and Carlos shared a panicked look before Carlos quickly came up with an excuse.

“They went camping” Doug raised his brow, extremely confused.

“Evie…camping? Evie, I want to live in a castle? Sleeping on the ground with no place to plug in a hairdryer?” Carlos just shrugged.

“Hey, isle kid remember? none of us are against doing that. But (y/n) and Evie decided to plan a last-minute stress reliever trip before cotillion, VKs only thing” Doug crossed his arms, his eyes showing a bit of hurt “aaand (y/n) is there cuz she's an honorary vk, and you weren’t invited because Evie needed you to man her shop here, she must’ve forgotten to tell you, but we’ll be back by tonight!” Jay nodded, slightly impressed by Carlos’ swift bullshiting skill.

Doug sighed and nodded “Alright then… see you guys tonight” he passed by the boys and walked into the dorm building. “Later Doug” Jay laughed, giving Carlos a look as they turned to go back to the limo, groaning a bit as they were stopped again and hid the wand behind his back.

Lonnie smirked at them, tossing one of her braided twin tails behind her shoulder.

“I’m coming with you” Jay laughed, waving off Lonnie’s request.

“whaa, we don’t need swords at the” Lonnie gave him a look “waffle hut?” Carlos slowly turned his head to Jay, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Wait wasn't-? Oh yeah! “ yeah, you can come” Carlos covered Jay's mouth as he tried to object “(y/n) said we would need an extra hand remember? And she said to let Lonnie come when she asked?” Jay stopped, closing his eyes as he realized his minor brain fart. He tossed Carlos’ hand off his mouth and nodding to where they had the limo parked.

“I’m an idiot, come on, we got no time to waste” Lonnie squealed in excitement and tossed her arms around their necks, babbling away about the upcoming battle.

-

You looked down at the messily drawn blueprints of James Hook’s ship, eyes drawn to the brig where Harry was being kept. “Alright let's go over this one last time!” Harriet sighed, her crew all gathered around you, Harriet, and Gil “We storm the ship, you all keep my dad's crew busy by fighting them and sending in the smoke bombs, while (y/n) goes for Harry, and as soon as Harry’s off the ship we retreat. And do not hesitate to take any of them down. Understood?” the crew nodded in agreement, the plan was set and was ready to be put in motion. Harriet let them go mull around until you were all ready to go. She turned to you, raising her brow as you stared at the outline of the captain's quarters. “what's up?”

“He’ll be on the ship when we raid right?” you muttered, fingers drifting over the metal of Harry’s hook that rested in your hands.

“aye?” Harriet answered, placing her hands on her hips and tilting her head “which is why we gotta be careful, he may be a drunk but even when he’s pissed for shit, he’s a damn good swordsman.” She stared at you as you just nodded and started muttering something to yourself “what are you planning girly?” you glanced up at her, giving her a reassuring, but terrifying smirk.

“you’ll see”

-

You, Gil, Harriet, and Xiaohui were crouched on top of the nearest building to the jolly roger, Xiaohui put down her telescope and turned to Harriet “all crew members are on deck captain, the plan is ready to proceed” Harriet nodded and took the hand-held scope from Xiaohui and looked down at the ship for herself.

“Good, if all goes according to plan, we should be able to defeat the crew and get harry out of there within ten minutes” you glanced at Harriet's pocket watch that hung off her belt, mentally groaning a bit as it read; 11:45 am. You hoped to get this done in time for you and Gil to get Harry to the limo safely.

And you wanted time to deal with a certain…backstabber.

“let's do this” Harriet muttered, watching her father go back into the captain's quarters. She handed the scope back to Xiaohui and put her fingers in her mouth, letting out a piercing whistle.

Within the moment of it, and Hook’s crew looking towards the building you and Harriet were on, several spray cans turned smoke bombs were hurdled onto the main deck, blinding James’ crew.

They all yelled in confusion as suddenly multiple footsteps surrounded them, the sound of swords being unsheathed made all of them leap back and draw their own weapon.

“Who’s there!” One of the men yelled, taking off his yellow cap and rubbing his eyes “You have no chance we-oop” as the smoke cleared, the crew took a step back, their eyes drawing wide as they realized they were outnumbered three to one. “Wha-Harriet?!” she smirked as she flipped her sword in her hand. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t bother to respond, letting out another whistle, and cackling as her crew rushed her father's men. She blocked a quick swing coming from the man with the yellow cap and spun around, deciding to end the mess for later quickly by slicing the back of his neck.

The man slumped to the ground leaving Harriet to move quickly towards the brig, eyes drifting to the captain's quarters.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!!” Harriet stopped, fear filling her chest as her father stepped out of his quarters, his eyes drifting over his crew and Harriet’s crew battling. “Harriet” he snarled, his cold blue eyes looking into hers “How dare you, you little brat!?” he raised his hook arm at her, his eyes flashing red, making Harriet step back “first your insolent brother, now you?! Must I teach you a lesson as well!?”

Harriet's crew quickly finished off James’ crew, their bodies slumping to the ground as blood pooled onto the deck. They lifted their swords in James' direction, ready to do anything to protect their captain.

“I think I have a lesson to teach you instead” James' eyes drifted to you, smirking as he realized just who you were as you unsheathed Harry’s sword and gripped onto his hook in your left hand.

“Ahh, the Auradon brat that turned my son into a pathetic Auradon lovesick bastard~” you rolled your eyes at the simple insult and flourished your sword.

“No, I just made your son realize he deserves better than an alcoholic abusive shit mongering asshole of a father.” you smirked as James’ eyes flashed red again “And if you don’t mind, I’m here to get my boyfriend, so-“ you waved Harry’s sword in a motion for him to move out of your way.

James chuckles and unsheathed his sword, shifting his feet as he prepared to fight “if you want him back” he smirked, slightly unnerved as you continued to look at him with an oddly calm look. “you’ll have to kill me, because unless I die, that boy will always be under my command, free for me to sell and ruin as I please”

Your brow twitched…this “man” didn’t deserve death, no..it was too easy for him…you had a better idea. “To the death, it will be!” James cackles, shifting back on his feet as he prepared to rush at you, stopping as you suddenly yelled out;

“No!” James, Harriet, and Gil looked at you in shock. What one moment you were itching to spill blood and the next you backed out? “To the pain.” James' shoulders dropped as he tried to rack through his brain to remember if he knew that term.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with that phrase” he muttered, eyeing Harriet for a moment then glaring back at you.

You smirked, tilting your head down, oh this was going to be fun~ “I’ll explain, and I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you warthog faced Buffon.” Harriet covered her mouth and snorted, looking down at her boots as her father glared at her.

He turned back to you, his eyes flashing red again “I think that is the first time anyone dared insult me” you raised your brow. really? The first time? Man, James really must be off his rocker if he had forgotten “codfish”

“It won't be the last” your eyes didn’t move from his, challenging him to try anything on you. “To the pain means the first thing you lose will be your feet below the ankles, then your other hand at the wrist, next your nose”

James rolled his eyes, taking a slight step back before stepping towards you “and then my tongue I suppose, I've let this go on for far too long-“

“I wasn’t finished” you yelled, enjoying the look of surprise on his face “the next thing you lose will be your left eye followed by your right”

James groaned and rolled his eyes again “and then my ears let's get on with it!” he growled as you smirked at him again and continued to talk.

“Wrong! Your ears you keep, and I’ll tell you why.” Harriet’s crew’s muttering went deadly silent as your voice dropped into a lower tone, shivers running down Harriet's spine as she realized just how far you were willing to go for her baby brother. “So that every shriek of every child of seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish, every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out “dear god what is that thing!” will echo in your ears” James couldn’t move, his entire body was frozen in fear. You hadn’t blinked once during your speech, that unnerved him. “That. Is what to the pain means, it means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery. Forever.”

The occupants of the main deck stared at you in deathly silence, all trying to detect any lies that came from you. But even Harriet, who could sniff out a lie faster than a bloodhound looking for its favorite treat, couldn’t detect any deceit from you.

James looked from you to Harriet with wide frightened eyes, before looking back at you “I think you’re bluffing” he tried, attempting to get you to back down. You shrugged, slowly closing your eyes and rolling your neck, making hook grit his teeth as he realized you hardly had any guard upon you. You thought you could easily take him, and that pissed him off, but his knees were shaking too much for him to take a single step towards you.

“It's possible pig. I might be bluffing” you opened your eyes and looked into James icy blue ones, smirking again at the fear you saw swirling inside. “it’s conceivable you miserable vomitous mass, I’m only standing here because you lack the courage to step forward”

James' eyes flashed red one last time as he screamed and ran at you, hook swinging back in preparation to slice into your neck. With a sidestep and a flourish of Harry’s sword, James’ arm dropped to the ground, the metal of the hook clanging as it hit the floor and ringing in everyone's ears.

James stared at his missing forearm, looked at you, and let out a piercing scream. “AAAAAAAAAAAAH YOU BITCH-“ You twisted back around and swung the tip of Harry’s sword just inches from James' neck, a small smirk on your face as you stared into James’ fear-filled eyes.

“drop.your.sword.” the entire deck was silent, watching as James reluctantly dropped his sword and took a step back from you.

You spun down into a crouch, arching Harry's blade against James' ankles and slicing them clean off, un-flinching as the substitute spray of blood hit your face.

Harriet and Gil gasped as they watched James fall to the floor with a loud thump, his screaming echoing off the buildings and water below. You slowly stood up and walked to his right side, flipping the blade again and hooking Harry's hook on your belt, tossing Harry’s sword to your now free hand and arching up, slicing off James' right arm.

He screamed again but was silenced as you kicked his side and placed your boot on his face, glaring down at him. “If I ever. Hear about you again, that’s not news that you finally choked and went to hell, I will personally, make sure you can't even tell from your ass to your face.” You kicked his head and took a heavy step on his chest and walked towards Harriet and Gil, nodding back towards James “if anyone else wants a crack at him, go for it, I have a pirate to save”

You cleaned Harry’s sword on a low hanging sail above you and sheathed it, walking towards the brig and grabbing the set of keys that were hanging off a hook next to the opening.

As your steps echoed off the old rotten wood walls, Harry sat up, unsure of the new footsteps that were walking towards him. He glanced at the opening with weary eyes.

You stepped into the small beam of light that was shining through the port window, your eyes brimming with tears as you looked at your poor wounded Harry that sat curled up in a damp dirty cell.

“(y-y/n)?” Harry whimpered, trying to sit up more but fell back “(y/n) yer really here?” a bright grin broke out on his bruised face, tears spilling from his eyes and trailing down his cheeks “Yeh came fer meh” his voice wavered as you rushed to open his cell.

You threw open the metal door and slid down in front of him on your knees, reaching up and gently cupping his face, minding the black bruises and reopened cutes “Oh my Harry, was there any ever doubt?” you sobbed, brushing his messy bangs out of his eyes and shaking your head. “Oh, I’m so sorry I took so long, but it took forever to get to Harriet's ship and- and the smoke bombs and-“ he reached up, cupping the back of your neck and beamed.

“Yer here now, that’s all tha’ matters ta me” he whispered, sniffing and wiping away your tears with his other hand. You stared into his bright ocean blue eyes, you couldn’t believe the amount of hope, trust, and love that was pouring from them.

“I love you harry” you sobbed, a soft smile appearing on your face as Harry’s cheeks and ears turned pink.

“I love yeh too” one moment you were staring into each other's eyes, the next your lips were pressed to his in a passionate kiss. Harry's arms wrapped around your back as you held onto his face, keeping him close as possible.

Your first kiss.

You pulled back for a moment, cracking your eyes open to see Harry's still closed, his lips just slightly parted as he took soft, yet fast-paced breaths. His eyes opened for a split moment, before you both leaned in slowly, lips pressing and moving together in a dance.

Harry let out a quiet sigh of happiness, hands drifting up to cup the back of your head and tilting his to deepen the kiss. You licked his lip carefully, smiling as he whimpered and happily opened his mouth.

‘no’ you thought, pressing one more kiss to his soft lips and pulling back, biting your lip at the whimper that followed as he chased you. ‘not the right time for that’

“Harry” you whispered, caressing his cheek gently with your thumb as he slowly opened his eyes, the blue slightly clouded with his running thoughts “Did anything…happen to you?”

He shook his head gently, heavily leaning his hand into your palm “no” he whispered “nev-never got ta’ tha’ no clients of da’s came, jus’ just beatin’s from the crew” you closed your eyes as you tried to keep calm, getting angry over something that was now over was pointless, right now Harry was priority.

“Thank fuck” you whispered back, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around his torso “okay, Harry, we have to go, I don’t how long we have before the others leave with the limo and I do not want to leave you here” he gave a clumsy nod and stood on wobbly legs with you.

“Gil!” you yelled, smiling a bit as he came running down to the brig “ carry him, and get back to the limo as fast as you can” he nodded, his arms going under Harry's torso and legs and lifting him into his arms in a princess carry. Harry lifted his head up and reached out to you. You smiled and grabbed his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“I’ll be right next to you love; the limo is right next to where I need to go.” Gil raised his brow, turning to walk out of the brig with a limp harry in his arms.

“Go where?” Gil wished he hadn't asked as he looked back at you to see a sadistic grin on your face.

“I need to deal with a traitor”

-

Xiaohui watched as you, Gil, Harry, and Harriet ran off the Jolly Rodger and towards the garage under the old pier. She turned to the crew with an impressed look.

“I now have no reason to think I’m straight” Sammy facepalmed and shook his head.

“Bitch you said that when Harriet beat you in a fistfight” Xiaohui shrugged.

“eh, tomato-tomato”

-end of part 11-

HOLY FUCK THEY FINALLY KISSED and YAY Harry is saved~ hopefully, that kiss turned out good! I was lowkey fangirling when I re-read it. Also!!! I hope that “to the pain” part was good, I was also re-reading my first part of your world fic and I was like “hoooow did anyone read this?” but I think I did it justice!!! Next chapter! The fight for the wand! Oh and-

Davy’s demise~

permtaglist!!!

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange (thank you again for being my beta reader/person who deals with my midnight ramblings about this)

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose (and thank you for commissioning me for the first four parts of this! if it wasn't for you, i probably still wouldn't have written the first chapter of Rewrite p1!) @random-thoughts-003 @remembered-license

@rintheemolion @descendantsobsessed @verboetoperee

@imtryingthisout @thecaptainsgingersnap

and taglist for rewrite

@thesailbells @beccad10x​

oh! have this kinda sad “meme” i made because i found a thing on twitter

#disney descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook imagine #captain hook #harriet hook #pirate ocs #captain hooks crew #whoooo this one took a bit to write #had so much energy while writing #was listening to the potc soundtrack while writing #thanks for the idea sephiralorange #rewrite #part of your world #shuffle playlist #tw blood #tw warning #loss of limb #princess bride qoutes bby #been waiting to do to the pain since i started the first rewrite

[themadauthorshatter]

Time to give this series more angst, and to make Henry even more of a dick; this is Charles's story now.

If you haven't read the previous parts, they are right here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 and revision

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Really quick recap: With Charles captured, Henry tries to persuade Charles into gibing up the sapphire. Upon resistance, however, Charles is left alone, and in a race against time.

LET'S JUST DIVE BACK IN!!!

We start on Earth as a child, man, and woman are outside and setting up a picnic near some woods.

TV perspective, we see the child hold the basket as his parents set up the blanket, one of them holding a cooler for drinks and condiments, the two talking, but we can't exactly hear what they're saying.

The man talks about drills and finally having a day off, to which the woman agrees, and then she sighs that it's good they have a day to themselves and their son.

Speaking of, the woman tells him to join them, now that the blanket's set up and cooler's open.

He does and they begin.

TV perspective again, we see from the child's perspective that these two adults are smiling and hear their words more clearly, especially when the woman places a hand on her son's head.

"What do you think, baby? Wanna help me throw Daddy in the water?"

"Try it. I'll pull you both in with me." The man turns to the boy, a smile on his face. "Don't give her ideas, Hawk, she's pure evil."

"How dare you," the woman laughs back. "He's my son, too, you a-"

"Hey. Language, he's just a kid."

"Right, and a future pilot like his parents."

We cut to see the child grown up, said child being Charles as he looks between his parents, confused and concerned.

"Mom? Dad?"

As they smile at him, an explosion goes off behind them and fire raises, coming closer by the second.

They don't notice, but it's a good thing Charles does.

"Mom! Dad! BEHIND YOU!" Charles shouts as he reaches out to them.

Too late, because the fire engulfs them both, but simply blows past Charles like wind or fog.

With the fire gone, smoke rises, but shows Calvin and Konrad, the two smiling with Charles in between them.

"Thanks for taking the fall for us," Calvin says. "Really we don't know what we'd do without you."

Charles looks between them and gives a confused look to them both. "What!?"

"Yeah," Konrad replies. "Better you take the fall than us. Who knows who would've lost it, if it were us instead of you."

"Captain Canterbury, for one," Calvin states.

"And the General."

"And Grit. She would've been sooo mad."

"And Rupert. Don't forget him."

Charles covers his ears and crouches down, saying to himself, "You're dreaming. This is just a dream. You've just gotta wake up."

"They're not wrong," Charles hears Rupert say, his friend appearing through the smoke-fog and standing over him. "If it had been them instead of you, I'd make you wish the General just put you in an orphanage instead of letting you join the government."

"Come on," Charles murmurs as he lightly slaps himself. "Come on, wake up already!"

Rupert reaches down and grabs Charles, pulling him up until they're practically breathing the same air.

The thing is, though, Charles isn't looking at Rupert, per se. He sees Galeforce instead, and what the General says to him:

"If it had been you instead of them, none of this would've happened."

"STOP!" Charles shouts as he pushes Galeforce away from him and runs. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

Charles suddenly stops in his tracks when he sees Henry, who's standing in front of the military base as it burns.

"Don't have anywhere else to go." Henry holds out his hand, smirking. "Might as well come with. I really have missed you."

Charles tries to run again, but Henry grabs him and holds onto him as the fire grows and bursts behind them.

"WAKE UP!"

We cut to Charles as he's dropped to the floor, the cuffs still on and Charles waking up, sweaty, shaking, and hyperventilating. Don't worry, he didn't land on his wounds.

He looks around, feeling worse when he remembers where he is, who he spoke to, and what they were talking about.

Charles groans and sits back against the wall, a little tired of just about all of this.

He does notice he's free and runs toward the panel to open the door, but that hope dies when he sees the cuffs are still on his hands. He tries getting the panel to activate using both his nose and togue before giving up and kicking and beating at the door.

"No. No. No. No! No! NO!"

Charles sits against the wall and closes his eyes tightly, trying not to fully break down.

It doesn't help that the withdrawal of medicine has started and the hum of the orbital station is getting a little too loud, and Henry comes in with some breakfast in a tray; he's not sending in anyone else because he doesn't want Charles attacking them.

Charles does notice Henry, but ignores him, because he's not in the mood for dealing with him.

Henry sits across from him and sets the tray down. "I would've waited until you woke up on your own, but you looked like you REALLY needed some help."

Charles only glares at him.

Henry sighs at this and moves closer to Charles, bringing the tray with him before taking a piece of food on a fork and holding it in front of Charles, who cringes away from it; he has nothing against scrambled eggs, but he does when Henry serves them.

Henry's amused look drops instantly. "None of it is poisoned in any way, if that's what you're thinking. Now open up. You need to eat."

Henry goes to feed Charles again, but the pilot presses himself against the wall as much as he can.

Henry, done with this, grabs Charles by the jaw and makes him eat some breakfast; it's pancakes, for anyone curious.

Charles tries kicking him away, which works, but Henry claps a hand onver his mouth before Charles can spit out his food.

The two glare at each other, but Charles also holds up his hand, which still have the cuffs on them.

"Look. You're going to be here for a while. I don't know when you ate last, so eat. And I don't trust you yet, so I'll feed you."

Charles, more pissed than ever, remains resolute, wanting very much to spit out that piece of pancake in his mouth.

Henry has none of that and uses his other hand to plug Charles's nose.

It's incentive for Charles to eat his food and let Henry feed him.

After a while, when the plate's empty, Henry speaks back up.

"You know, this is the quietest I've ever seen you, since we met."

Charles inhales sharply and trembles a little bit, trying to talk.

Henry leans forward and turns his ear toward him.

Charles struggles, but eventually forces out, "Medicine."

Henry has a confused look on his face before realizing what Charles means, standing up, and taking the pill bottle out of his inside coat pocket. "This medicine?" He asks, being a smug prick.

Charles races toward Henry, who steps back and watches Charles fall back down.

TV/Camera perspective, we see that Charles's eyes keep darting to the seams/bonds in the metal floor, to some scuff marks from shoes, to the details on the cuffs, like the seams, bolts, and even the metal around his wrists. We also hear the hum of the orbital station get lower, especially when Henry walks toward him and kneels down in front of him, reaching his hand to him.

Out of the perspective Henry lifts Charles's chin up, so they can see each other better.

"Sorry, Charles. As much as I like our conversations, I think I like you better like this." Henry holds up the pills again and leans closer to Charles. "Unless you know where the sapphire is."

Charles only stares at the medicine and reaches for it, forgetting the cuffs, and Henry holds them further away.

"Please," Charles says, just above a whisper.

Henry only holds the bottle close again and shakes it. "Where can we find it, Charles? Just tell me, and I'll let you take as many as you want."

Charles can only stare between the bottle and Henry, who's patiently waiting for an answer.

"Please."

Henry sighs, shakes his head, and stands back up, Charles watching in absolute despair.

"I'll leave you alone for a little while to rethink your answer."

Charles watches Henry, trying to protest as he leaves.

Tv/Camera perspective, we follow Henry leave Charles, who yells for him even as the door shuts.

Henry walks until he's in the Communications area, where he meets Burt.

"Oh, hey, Chief."

'Hello, Burt,' Henry signs. 'Is the message ready?'

Burt nods. "Yeah. Got the message and video ready. Just, uh, waiting on your call."

Henry examines the file, and the video feed that's attached, and nods as he smiles. 'Send it.'

CUT TO EARTH IN THE MILITARY BASE!

Galeforce is training via target practice and trying not to think about Charles being in danger, even though his parent instincts are going absolutely crazy.

That's when new character to this whole thing Victoria Grit comes in and reports to Galeforce that they just recieved a message from the Toppat Clan.

Galeforce follows her and meets up with Rupert, the twins, and Canterbury as they open the file.

It's a video that shows Charles in his cell as he sleeps, hanging by his wrists.

Galeforce is triggered instantly, while everyone else is highly disturbed.

They watch as Charles has his nightmare, as he's given breakfast by Henry, and has his medicine taken away from him, even when Henry leaves.

Galeforce is silent and trembling with pure rage as Rupert growls, "That bastard," and Canterbury mutters, "Junky," under his breath.

"Charles is attention deficited," Victoria explains. "Without those pills, he's about as functional as a plastic compass."

"Why do it, though?" Konrad asks. "Why take the pills, if Charles needs them that much?"

"Read what His Majesty added," Calvin replies as he points to the message attached.

'GIVE IT BACK'

Galeforce barely registers what the soldiers elaborate on a plan, instead watching Charles on the floor of his cell, trying to cover his ears and remain calm.

"Hang in there, Charlie. We'll get you out of there."

#henry stickmin #henry stickmim collection #completing the mission au #charles calvin #one sided stickvin #stickvin #medication withdrawl tw #forced medication withdrawl tw #torture tw

[rotzaprachim]

be gentle with the people who were not made from The Fall

- Gen, Declan Lynch &  Mór Ó Corra

2k ao3 here

She passed Declan a blank manilla envelope. He ran his fingers gingerly over the edges, life having long ago built up a healthy suspicion of anything from the channels of the Fairy Market. He couldn’t feel anything, but he’d also never had the touch for it. At some point he’d always ended up having to hold his breath and jump in in order to get the rough work done. 

He slit it open with the knife in his pocket.  

There were answers he’d had before he even knew what the questions were. Firstborn, Niall told Declan. My All-American son, Niall told Declan. When you were born the rivers dried up and all the cows in Rockingham County cried blood, Niall told Ronan. When you were born, I wasn’t here, Niall told Declan. 

The silence swallowed his voice for a long time. 

“Ó Corra?” 

She gave him a look that said, you can’t pronounce your own name. Finally she said, “You have my name. It’s what they did when the father couldn’t be found.” 

He studied the certificate in the small crescents of yellow light that bounced in through the tinted windows of her sports car from the streetlight outside. The Births and Deaths Registation (Northern Ireland) Order 1976, Article 34. Registered in the District of Belfast. 24 July 1997. Declan James Ó Corra.

There was a box that asked for Name and Surname and Dwelling Place of Father (6). It was blank. There was another box that asked for Rank or Profession of Father. On that one, someone had gona back with a red pen at some later point, scrawled angrily, messily, bleeding jaggedly out from the neat black boxes, GONE. 

It made sense, in a strange sort of way that Declan’s brain dimly seemed to recognise in the same way that the drowning man thinks the sun streaming through the surface looks quite nice even when he’s being pulled under. Niall Lynch’s sons. The dreamer son of a dream and the dream of the dreamer the son of a dream. And here now was the odd one out, the liar the son of a lie. 

“I was two years younger than you.” The woman finally said. He couldn’t think of her as anything other than the vague idea digging at the back of his eye turned hard, angry secret when he started to shift through his father’s boxes of crap after death. He’d left a fuckton of a lot of loose threads, although Declan hadn’t thought he’d be one of them. Letters and phone bills from a far-away woman, even a photo or two, all the vitriol and anger he’d carried around bubbling up again acridly through a mirror. Collected in an old file box next to IOU’s and pay me bastard or i’ll fuck you ups in seven different languages, three of which Niall didn’t know how to read. Collected, and never returned. Even some photos of him as a kiddo in a tiny knit sweater. 

“No explanations.” Declan finally said. His voice sounded like when he’d had the lights punched out of him by one of the goons his dad owed rubles, or rupees, or riyals, in the parking lot of a Fairy Market. It could have been all three. “You don’t have to give me one.” I don’t know if I want one, he didn’t say. 

“I’m a very dangerous woman to find, Declan. You wouldn’t have found me if you hadn’t been looking.” 

He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted safety, although he’d ruled out that as a possibility years ago. He wanted the ones the world had left him to care for to be safe, and he’d jeapordised all that on a wild goose chase to find the woman in one of his father’s fucking dream objects on a hunch of a hunch. He’d done exactly what he’d warned Ronan not to do, relied on himself to be smarter, sharper, more careful. All attributes hard won on his own,  like learning from imitation from a mirror. You see what this who looks like you does? Now do the opposite. 

He sighed. The air bristled, and he realised he sounded a lot like Mór Ó Corra.

“Maybe I-” 

Maybe he hadn’t been angry, almost, to find out. Maybe he’d almost been relieved. A voice to his darkest thoughts saying, you did not dream this up. The part of himself that’d been forced through seven years of Catholic school and then forced himself through a few months of therapy where he couldn’t tell the therapist about any of the things that had most profoundly fucked him up said a good man should have loved any child, regardless. He was about fifteen years past thinking Niall to be a good man. 

“Maybe I spent so many years dealing with all the fucking dreaming, the dreamers and the dreams and every fucking thing that’s come to kill us because Dad couldn’t fix any of his own shit and the fact that none, none of it was ever part of me that I thought I wanted some kind of fucking explanation for it all. I wanted some- some explanation for it all. Why I was different. WHy dad- … WHy dad. I wanted some part of a past that was mine.” Selfish, maybe. Learned. If you spent a lifetime you were different from other people, eventually you came to a wanting a reason for them to be different from you. 

“And you think I’m going to be the dear old Mam who darns your socks and calls to remind you to bring a good girl home to the family?” 

“No. I didn’t ask for that. You know what I asked for.” 

The second Manilla envelope she gave him was far thicker. This time, he could feel the slightest trace of- something. Not a buzzing, not a mist, a- something. He slid it into his briefcase. No expectations. Nothing more. A deal that was a deal, only a birth certificate instead of a handshake. 

“I was two years younger than you. Sometimes life doesn’t hand you many choices. I’d say you didn’t understand, and you don’t, but I’ll also say you’ve been a hell of a lot more of a father than Niall ever was. All the more so since the world’s made you be one.” 

Niall was drunk off some kind of spiked slivovitz when he’d come round to it the first time. Retrospectively, he was probably scared shitless, and rightly so. “Anything happens,” he’d slurred into the hotel couch. “You’re the man of the house. Take ‘em to church. Make ‘em proper. Make ‘em fear God. There’s money in the bank, anything happens.” And Declan had almost said, you know it’s my number Matthew’s school’s had down on the books for a year now? You know the priest there already thinks we’re orphans? 

“You’ve got a number and an adress. You’re a smart boy. You know if you use it my women’ll kill you just as likely as the dreamkillers.” 

“Everything has a price. At least you’re up front on it.” 

“I’m not a good woman, Declan. Don’t make your father’s mistake. Don’t dream me into being one.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

--- 

He didn’t open the package until he’d driven two hours, switched lisence plates and then cars, moved a state line, and walked two miles out to a sublet Jordan knew from a friend of a friend of an enemy in the art underground, where two dreams were now. It came with two dozen forged Miró’s in the living room, all done with a variety of blue paint with a distinctly incriminating synthetic binding agent manufactured solely post 1986, and even in the palest strands of morning light it made the living room into a riot of psychedelic stick-figure Catalan sunshine. He opened the door carefully, walked gingerly past the still-sleeping Matthew, TV still flickering from where he’d probably been watching it far later than Declan would have let him. Flicked the kitchen light on and made himself a cup of instant coffee, and more than anything else resisted the urge to upstairs and collapse next to Jordan in the bed that was for the moment theirs and sleep till noon. But if there was a lesson he’d learned by know it was that he couldn’t do any of the things he wanted to in life. So he downed the shitty instant coffee and he opened Mór Ó Corra’s folder and he got to work. You do what you gotta do for your family, Niall had told him. A deal had gone south and they’d made it out with their lives and stacks of money shoved in their pockets. One day you’ll have yourself a wife and some kids and then you’ll know. And he’d swallowed what he now knew was his rage. 

     “Ready to make a deal with the devil?” The voice on the other end of the number had said when he’d dialed it, and he said, only the devil can help me now, and he’d been right. No one with their head above the water could know the things he wanted to know about the Moderators. I have two dreamers and two dreams to keep out of the reach of a shadowy intergovernmental agency who’s whole M.O is about killing every dreamer they can find to stop the end of the world. Only a shadow knows its kind. And for her part, Mór Ó Corra had been thorough. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust her and he didn’t even know if he trusted the birth certificate. When you were the lying son of a lie, another one would be more natural than anything. He wouldn’t act on any of her information until he could put some feelers out, a few red herrings, get ahold of some of Nialls’ other bullshit to run cross checks. It was a start. At some he’d always ended up having to hold his breath and jump in in order to get the rough work done. At some point, he’d always just been shoved in. 

He didnt’ realise he’d fallen asleep until he was woken up. By Matthew, prodding his neck with the tines of a fork. 

“You said to wake you up if you slept past noon.” Jordan set down a massive plate of something exactly an inch from his eardrum with a loud clatter. 

“It’s 12:02,” Matthew added generously. 

He looked down. He hadn’t gotten through the pile. There was still more- 

Jordan’s eyes flicked notably towards the floor tiles. Declan followed them. In his early morning haze he’d somehow missed a second, smaller envelope within the envelope. He slipped it into his jacket before Matthew could see. He slid all of the papers back into the envelope before Matthew could see more. 

“Two whole extra minutes? Well, that’s where’s where the rest of my day went.” 

“You looked like you needed it. Like, you definitely looked like you needed it.” She handed him the day’s second mug of instant coffee and it hit him again that he loved her a not, which would have felt all new and electric even in circumstances that were not the current ones and when and if this was all over with hopefully no more deaths she deserved a really really nice vacation to somewhere sunny. Which he would not promise until he knew he could actually pull it off, because Declan Lynch was a liar but he was not a man who broke promises. 

  He didn’t open up the other envelope until he was in the bathroom with the door firmly locked. Magical all female mafias ran on the power of the sticky stuff at the top of a Manilla envelope, apparently. Only a few sheets inside. A surprisingly blurry print-out map with a building circled, a clipping from the Belfast Telegraph about the NHS’s most recent warnings on the loneliness epidemic among young adults and seniors, and new local projects for seniors to form new connections through knitting circles, classes in French and Irish, and mentorship opportunities with Sixth-Form students. “Former school teacher Anne  Ó Corra recounts feelings of isolation after the untimely death of her only daughter in 1999. She says that mentorship opportunities with Saint Mary’s Compre-” Declan scanned the article. On the back the same hand that had scrawled, GONE, wrote, THink the old bat’d be happy to see you. 

#my writings #call down the hawk #declan lynch #Mór Ó Corra #the dreamer trilogy #the raven cycle #the raven cycle fic #i don't remember a lot of hte details of TRC so if there's issues- please let me know! with canon or whatnot #also some of these details are based on a real birth certificate i found to copy the details off from belfast but it was from the 70's

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR CHAPTER 44                                            

Disclaimer We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.”

The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC

We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us.

                                                          A/N: AND. WE’RE. BACK! We appreciate your patience, heading into the show require a wee bit more work on our end as well as dealing with some hard hits from the real world. All that being said, we’re hoping to be able to stick to our weekly postings. So HERE WE GO!                                                  MO CHAPTER 44

Jax

“Girls are still at yer old house,” Chibs explains, blowing smoke out from his cigarette.

“I’ll relieve the prospect after I stop by the hospital.”

“Going to see the lad?”

I wince under his censure. Chibs doesn’t have to say a word to get his point across.

Everything that needs to be said is visible in his eyes.

“Naw. Gonna set his mother straight.”

Chibs grunts.

“What?” I snap.

“I didnae say a word.” He shakes his head, takin a deep inhale.

“Yeah, ya don’t have to,” I mutter, spinning on my heels and taking off.

Clay’s just got finished giving me shit about Mom telling him I hadn’t seen Abel.

No one stops to consider it might be too much for me.

I’ve gotten so used to people leaving, I keep them at a distance.

I also have a lot of shit on my plate, and I can’t afford to drop the ball.

They want me to put the club first but don’t stop to look at what the cost might look like. I’d rather be dealing with the fucking Mayans than this family guilt trip shit.

Clay attempting to keep me in line by holding Abel’s hospital bills in my face was a low blow. But I’ve come to expect that shit from him.

There’s not enough time in the world to stop me from being furious with Wendy when I reach St. Thomas.

I’m glad Tara is nowhere to be seen.

I got my hands full with one crazy ex.

Wendy looks like death warmed over.

Ratty bleached out blonde hair, sallow skin, and dark circles that lend to her skeleton impression. What the fuck did I ever see in her?

Another lost soul who needed an anchor, so she didn’t drift off the deep end.

It worked for a time.

I should’ve ended it when it stopped, and she relapsed the second time, instead of ignoring her like she’d go away on her own.

She looks up and starts to cry when she sees me.

Stepping in, I ignore her hysterics.

I’ve grown immune to them.

“You need to get help, Wendy,” I say, trying to soften the irritation in my tone.

“I know, I know— But it’s not what you think. I was doing so good, Jax. I love my baby. Even with us being fucked up.” She shakes her head, wiping at imaginary tears.

“So the meth fairy shot you up?”

She looks down at the bed, and I tense.

Her lack of eye contact’s always been a tell-tail sign she’s hiding shit from me.

“Start talking now, Wendy.” I growl.

“I thought he loved me. That he didn’t care I was having your baby. I was wrong. All he wanted to talk about was you and the club. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t.” She shakes her head, speaking as if she’d forgotten I was even there.

Walking over, I grip her bedrail to keep from gripping her arms and shaking the answers out of her.

“And.” I ground out.  

“He forced me to shoot up Jax! H-He Said I was going to tell one way or the other!”

Well for Fuck’s sake!  

“Son of a bitch. What did you say to him, Wendy?”

She shakes her head.

“I- I don’t know. The doctor said Abel’s getting stronger. He said maybe they would fix his belly. Maybe tomorrow morning.” I shake my head at her attempt to change the topic.

Now I have to worry about what the Nords know on top of everything else.

“They’ll do everything they can.”

I won’t hope. That’s a dangerous thing I can’t afford to do right now.

“My lawyer said they might file criminal charges. Fetal abuse. I got stuff back at the house in the stash drawer.”

“Jesus Christ.” I scoff, shaking my head.

It never ends with this bitch.

“You expect me to bring it to you so you can get high too?” I growl.

“No, I told you…” She whines.

“I didn’t even want to do it, Jax. You have to believe me. Just if they find that shit, they’re gonna put me away.”

“Might be the only way you’ll get clean,” I state honestly.

Plus, her outta the picture might make all the women in my life a lot happier.

“You own the house, Jax. I’d hate to see this blowback on you.”

The truth of her statement dumps over me like a bucket of cold water.

“Yeah, of course.” I chuckle dryly.

Now there’s another fucking mess I gotta fucking clean up.

It never ends.

Fuck, I need to find the shit before the girls do. I don’t want them anywhere near that shit, let alone touching it.

“Jax, wait. Please, please, Jax!” Her whining falls on deaf ears as I leave the hospital behind and hit the road.

Pulling up into the driveway, I gesture for the grunt to leave as I enter the house that never felt like a home.

I watch briefly as the girls pitch things into garbage bags, spraying and scrubbing down furniture.

It hits me in the heart and the gut.

The three women I love most are here together, doing what they can to make this shit show more tolerable.

I clear my throat. “It’s almost midnight.”

They all stop, startled by my appearance before glancing up at me with tired expressions.

“The place is a goddamn pigsty.” Ma huffs, picking up all the clothes laying around.

“Cleaning was never her strong suit. But it didn’t look like this last time we were here.”

Mom glances over at me.

Sitting on the desk next to the half wall that separates the living room from the wall, I look over at the girls working in the kitchen and dining room.

“What are you doing here?” Mom asks, continuing her almost frantic cleaning.

“It’s my house,” I offer, pulling my riding gloves off.

“No, it’s your property. There’s a big difference,” J corrects walking into the living room with another trash bag.

Lee meets my gaze, studying me with those blue lasers that always see everything I want to hide.

I look away, unable to keep my secret in the face of her worry-filled expression.

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to see it this way,” Ma says as she continues to straighten and organize.

It’s her way, always in action to run from her emotions.

“You guys don’t have to do this.” Guilt hits me.

They’re over here cleaning up the mess I made.

My stomach clenches.

“Look, we just want it livable,” Lee says walking into the living room with an empty hamper for the clothes.

Her words should be soothing, but that’s the last thing I want right now.

“I’ll buy some decent carpet. Cigarette burns are everywhere.” Mom mutters, continuing to pick up Wendy’s mess. “Mom.” I try to grab her attention, but she continues to mumble and clean.

“Make this shit-hole a home for your son.”

Something in me snaps at the mention of Abel.

“Mom, For chrissakes, stop cleaning!” I bark.

J steps in front of her.

“Oh hell no. You don’t get to talk to her like that! Not when we’re here helping your ass out. Trying to clean up the fucking trail of mess you left behind. Like always!”

I flinch.

“Jax.” Lee shakes her head.

The disapproval is visible in her blue sapphires.

“He’s not gonna make it.” I let my worries fly out of my mouth.

The girls gasp, circling around me.

Lee grabs my hand, squeezing tight.

“W-What are you talking about?” Mom asks.

“What happened?” Lee and Journee ask in that twin sync way they have.

I exhale and shake my head.

“He was born with half a stomach and a hole in his heart. He’s gonna die—.”

My head is rocked to the left, and my side is on fire from mom’s slap and baby sister’s wicked pinch.

I think the little bitch drew blood and broke the skin.

But it’s Lee letting go of my hand that hurts the most.

“Don’t you say that! You’re the only one this boy’s got! You don’t believe he’s gonna live, you might as well go and kill him yourself.” Mom snaps, glaring at me as she speaks her truth.

Turning from me, she walks over to the table and grabs the joint and lighter sitting in a bowl.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles half-heartedly, lighting up the joint as I make my way towards her, cautiously.

My eyes catch Lee’s disappointed blues.

“You gotta go see him, Jax,” She says gently, stepping towards me.

Even through my pain, I hear Lee’s voice, but I can’t gather the guts yet to do what she’s asking me.

“I can’t.” I admit honestly.

“Why? Because he’ll break your heart? It’s called being a father,” Mom says, after blowing out her deep inhale.

I place my hand up on the half-wall, resting heavily against it.

“For how long? A day? A week?” I spit the words circling around my head out like poison.

Mom sighs, and nods to me to come take a seat with her.

I release my own sigh, and glance back to see the girls going back to cleaning but staying nearby.

Wiping at some crumbs on the table, I sink into the chair, exhausted.

Mom takes another hit from the joint before offering it to me.

I look up at her gratefully, taking a deep inhale as she takes a seat across from me.

“You know, you were born with that same heart defect as your little brother.”

She reaches across the table and gently knocks at my chest.

“You seem pretty sturdy to me.”

Her tone has changed to something a little softer and I can’t help but give her a small smile.

“I came through hell. Landed on my feet…your father was hit by a goddamn semi, dragged 178 yards...and that bastard lived for two more days. Tellers do not die easy.” She says with a proud smirk.

I snort.

“No, we just die bloody.” I say honestly.

I’m not sure that’s better.

“That’s the Irish in us,” Ma says without missing a beat.

The storm ends, and I turn to glance up at the girls.

“I’m sorry.” I mouth the words.

Journee scowls, and Lee shoots me a sad look that makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

I need to get out of this moment.

“When you and dad hooked up, he ever talk to you about his vision? About what he wanted from the club?”

The girls look at me, and I nod.

Mom fidgets with the joint in her fingers before shrugging.

“His vision was— you know, what it is. A brotherhood. Family.” She offers me the joint.

“And running guns? He want that?” I keep on her, needing to get to the bottom of how we came to this position.

“He never talked about that. Why?” She eyes me for a moment, before standing from the table.

“I found a box of his old shit in the storage unit. There’s, like, pictures and journals and... Things I never knew about him.” I shrug.

“What kind of things?” Journee asks, pausing her cleaning.

“It seemed like his original idea for the MC was something simpler. You know, social rebellion. He called it a Harley commune. It wasn’t outlaw. It was real hippie shit.” I say with a slight smile.

It’s not hard to imagine my laidback father wanting that.

I take another hit of the joint, watching as Mom sighs and tosses her head slightly.

I can see her brimming with nervous energy.

I know she doesn’t like to talk about dad.

“We had a lot of bright ideas back then. We were kids. Your father became a man. Men take care of business.” She says, but she isn’t looking at me when she speaks.

“Yeah, we do.” I answer, blowing the smoke out of my nose.

“You should get home, Mom. Finish cleaning tomorrow. Lee and I will lock up.” I say as mom turns to look at me while Journee looks from me to Lee.

“You good?” She hugs Lee, who whispers something in her ear.

Mom walks over and frames my face for a moment.

“Night mom.” I say as she bends to press a kiss to my cheek.

“Night baby.” She whispers squeezing my hand before walking past me.

“Hey,” I nod at Mom. “Have her stop by the club. Your old man misses you.” I say, standing from the table.

Baby J steps closer and tugs me down to her.

“Do not fuck this up, Jaxass. Remember everything you have to lose.”

I nod my head.

“I hear you.”

She pats my cheek.

“Good.”

“Ok, darling.” Mom sounds exhausted.

It’s easy to forget sometimes she’s still only human.

“Good night, mom. Night Baby J.”

“Good night, baby.” Ma blows a kiss before grabbing her stuff.

“See you tomorrow, bro. Remember what I said.”

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Lee. I’m always a call away,” Baby J says, ignoring me as she walks up and kisses her.

I glance over to see Mom’s already out the door.

That’s new.

I guess they’re done giving a shit.

“I love you too, Nee.” Lee calls out.

They walk out, and I go to the drawer Wendy mentioned.

“What are you doing?” Lee asks, following me over to the stash drawer.

“Saving us a whole lot more trouble.” I remove the gun, syringes, and bags of smack.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lee screeches angrily.

“Obviously not mine.” I mumble, tucking the gun into the waistband of my jeans as I walk over to the bathroom.

“Why are you covering for her? It’s like enabling.” She says as I flush the baggies away.

“Cause it’s my damn house, Harley. Imagine how much the law would love to find that shit and charge me.”

She crosses her arms and nods.

“So, you sweep in and rescue her. She has no consequences?” She follows me back to the living room.

“She’s lying in the hospital half dead right. I’m pretty sure she’s paying.” I snap, turning to look at her.

“So you could go see the Junkie bitch, but not your son?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Explain it to me, then. Cause what I see is the one solid parent Abel has turning their back.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit, and you know it. That kid is going to have more love than most kids get in a lifetime.”

“Maybe. But it won’t make up for an absent father.” She pokes her finger at my chest.

I roll my eyes, fighting back the urge to growl.

“You already labeling me now? Don’t let your past mingle with my future. I’m ain’t like Wally, and you know it.” I swipe her hand away, shaking my head.

“No. But I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a junkie mother and a father who couldn’t’ be bothered,’ She whispers.

Her past pain bleeds into her blues, tugging at my heart strings.

Fuck.

I turn back to face her, bending slightly to catch her eyes.

“I get that, but it’s not the same, Lee. I just—my head is spinning, and I need to be grounded before facing him lying there like that, okay? It ain’t about a lack of love.” I run a hand through my hair, blowing out a deep breathe.

“You’re a Father now, Jax. You can’t keep things on the backburner anymore.” She steps forward, and I open my arms.

“I don’t want to fight, babe.” I say sincerely.

“So, let’s not fight.” Her tone doesn’t match her sentence.

I know she wants to keep talking about this and shit it’d be easier if she knew what went down with Wendy, but I’m ain’t about to add gasoline to that fire.

So I’ll keep this close to my chest for now.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, just needing us to be okay.

“Anything, other than ignore him Jackson.” She throws her hands up in the air.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll go see Abel tomorrow.” I say, knowing it’ll make her happy.

“Yeah?” She whispers.

Her eyes light up, and I nod.

Fuck she’s got me wrapped around her finger don’t she?

“Yeah.” I swallow my pride and my fear.

I can’t control if I lose my son, but I can keep Lee.

“You’re right. I’ve been putting things on the back burner I should be handling. I want to be the kind of man my father was.” My throat clogs.

“This ain’t it.”

She steps into my arms and I hold her tight.

“I see him in you all the time Jackson. You just need to learn how to channel him and block out all the other bullshit thrown at you.” Wrapping her armss around my waist, she rests her head on my chest.

Inhaling the citrus scent of her hair, I let her ground me.

We’re in a fucking hurricane right now.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep our heads above water.

Tara, Wendy, Abel, Mayans, Nords, it’s all coming at us at once.

I can’t even catch my damn breath.

“Talk to me.” Lee tilts her head up, propping her chin on my chest as she turns those cerulean lasers up to lock onto mine.

Her anger’s faded, but I can see the steely determination in the depths of her electric blue eyes. She expects me to keep my word.

“That’s why I’m here.” She pushes gently.

I don’t even know where to start.

We’re in the middle of a powder keg, ready to explode.

The less she knows, the better.

Once you add her own issues with abandonment into the situation, I know rational thinking goes straight the fuck out the window.

“I don’t want to talk babe. I want to feel something other than worry and stress. I need you, Lee.” I whisper, pressing our lips together.

“Then have me, Jackson.” Her tone is husky but demanding.

She fists my hair and crashes our kiss together again.

I grip her face in my hands and dominate the kiss.

Tilting my head slightly I deepen our kiss and slip my tongue into her mouth, exploring the playground I already have memorized.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, I crush her frame against my chest.

The mint of the gum she’s been chewing makes my tongue tingle as the addicting scent of spicy citrus fills my nostrils. Blood rushes to my cock, slowly hardening against her. She pulls back to suck in air, and I move my hands down to her hips. I don’t want her to be even an inch from me right now.

I press forward, moving her back towards the half-wall and the desk.

Lips lock and teeth gnash as our hands work in tandem, stripping each other of our bottoms.

Unbelted and unbuttoned, my jeans drop down my hips, weighted heavily by the items always attached.

I shove down the leggings she’s wearing and lift her up from the ground.

She wraps her knees around my waist as I hold her weight with one arm, clearing the small desk and positioning her against the half-wall.

Her fingers tug at my hair, turning my head to keep our lips connected.

I growl as my hardened cock strains against the confines of my boxers.

Her wet heat sears me through the thin cotton, painting my boxers in her fragrant juices.

“Fuck. you’re so wet, baby.” I groan, grinding against her slick folds.

“Always for you.” She whimpers, reaching into my boxers to pull my cock out.

“Shit.” I hiss as her warm fist wraps around me.

Precum leaks from my tip, and she uses her thumb to smear the sticky liquid down my cock.

“Fuck I love you.” I groan as she pumps me before lining me up with her hot entrance.

“Fuck me, Jackson. Claim me as yours.” The neediness in her tone causes the beast inside me to roar to life.

“Mine,” I growl, thrusting into her without warning.

She gasps, arching her back.

I bend down, sucking the skin of her neck into my mouth.

She whimpers, turning her head to the side to allow me more access.

I stay still, basking in being completely surrounded by her and losing myself in the taste of her skin.

I suck harder, wanting to leave my mark and let everyone know she’s claimed.

“Jackson.” She gasps, clenching her muscles around my cock.

I groan at how fucking tight she feels.

Biting her neck, she whines and rolls her hips towards me.

I slide back just slightly, desperate to remain inside her for as long as possible.

I roll my hips instead of sliding out.

“O-oh.” She moans, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and hugging me closer to her.

The wood creaks with the movement, and my hands move to her thighs to support her weight.

“You feel so fucking, good baby.” Lee moans as I continue to rotate my hips inside her.

I mix it up with a rhythmic back and forth but never out of her.

This is my pussy, and the only people allowed to play in here are J. Tellers.

The quick flash image of my baby sister making my girl come has me groaning loudly and thrusting deeper.

“Fuck baby, just like that!” She cries out, clenching around me.

Her back arches, and her body trembles.

“Shit, Jackson, I’m close—so fucking close.” She gasps, rocking her hips towards me erratically.

My cock grows impossibly hard as I near mine.

I bite at her collarbone, leaving my marks all over her neck.

No one will ever doubt this woman is claimed and claimed fucking well.

“I’m yours, baby,” I whisper against her lips, letting her know this claiming goes both ways.

“And you’re fucking mine.” I hiss, rotating my hips so my cock can hit that spot inside her that makes her shatter.

“YES!” She cries out, fingernails digging into the back of my neck as her pussy locks down on me like a fucking vice.

“Fuck.” I groan, falling headfirst into my own release and shooting my hot load deep inside her.

She hugs me close as I rest my weight on my forearms against the wall, trapping her between them and struggling to catch my breath.

Lifting my head, our eyes lock, and I’m lost in the soft glow of her electric blues.

“I love you so much, Harley,” I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips before I slowly ease out of her.

“Mmm, love you too.” She mumbles against my lips.

“I’ll love you even more if you get me a towel.” She blinks up at me with hazy eyes and a satisfied smile.

I bend down to pull my boxers and jeans back up.

Shit, the thought of my cum swimming around inside her could make me hard again.

I know she’s got that thing in her arm, but damn if I don’t love knowing she’s marked by me, inside out.

“Leave it,” I whisper, smirking as I help her stand.

Her eyes widen, shocked by my request.

“Really?” She asks as I drop to my knees to pull her leggings back up her legs for her.

I nod, standing back to my feet and pulling her close.

“You told me to claim you. Nothing says claimed like my seed swimming around inside you.” I slip my hand down the front of her leggings and cup her pussy.

The heat radiating through the thin, wet material has me biting my lip.

She whimpers.

“And what about you, Jackson?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Are you claimed?” She asks, confusing me with her line of questioning.

“You tell me?” I ask, tucking some loose strands from her messy bun back behind her ear.

“I thought so…” She runs her knuckles down my cheek gently.

Suddenly she’s pinching my chin tightly, tilting my head down to meet her gaze.

“But then I see, Tara Fucking Knowles is in town, and you don’t look all that shocked to see her.” The fury flames in her eyes once more.

Fuck. Shoulda known the calm would only last a few minutes.

I sigh, shaking my head.

“Shit. We really talking ‘bout this now?” I ask, stepping back.

“Fuck yes we’re talking about this! Why didn’t you fucking tell me, Jackson! I do not like being blindsided!” She pushes at my chest and steps away from me.

“How long have you fucking known? How long did you plan on keeping it from me? And why, why the hell didn’t you fucking tell me!” She pushes at my chest again.

“Lee, I’m sorry, aight? I was gonna tell you the other night when we went out for our ride, but then the Mayans blew up the warehouse, and Wendy ODing threw us right into the middle of it before I had a chance.”

I step towards her cautiously, slowly moving to grab her hands.

“I only found out that morning. I just wanted to get some us time in before I told you-“ I begin.

“Why?” She asks in a defensive tone, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Cause I know how you feel ‘bout Tara, and I just wanted us to be solid-“

She slides her hands out from mine and steps back.

Something deep inside growls at the thought of her stepping away from me.

“Why wouldn’t we be solid, Jackson? Should I be worried we’re not solid now that SHE’s back?” I can hear the accusations in her tone, and I don’t like it one damn bit.

“Nah Fuck that, Harley. Her being back don’t change shit ‘bout us.” I step to her, gripping her hips in my hands tightly.

“I think I just fucking proved that,” I growl, nodding towards the clatter of shit on the floor from our early escapade.

“You think I’m going to accept the scraps you used to give other women? Takes more than a quick fuck against a wall to make me feel secure.”

“Don’t say shit like that when you know it ain’t fucking true!” I yell before I can catch myself.

Her eyes widen, but I don’t see an ounce of fear in them.

“I fucking love you, Harley Grazer! Tara ain’t nothing to me but an old ghost, you fucking hear me!” My fingers grip her hips so she can’t step back from me again.

“That bitch is the past. You and I are headed towards a future. I ain’t gonna let that gash get in the way of that by gettin into your head.”

This is my fault.

I let her pull me from my girls and my family once before.

But I’m gonna make it damn clear it ain’t happening again.

I struggle to calm myself.

I can’t blame her for being cautious.

I release a shaky breath, trying to force some sanity back into my brain before I start to demolish the whole fucking house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. My plan was to tell you after our ride before everything went to shit. I only found out that morning.” I loosen my grip on her hips but still hold her to me.

She’s holding tense but not trying to stepping back.

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my face when she continues to glare at me.

“I mean it, Harley. I’m sorry I let that shit get away from me, but I need you to trust me when I say I got no love left for her. S’far as I’m concerned, she’s my son’s doctor, that’s it.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me.

My heart clinches when she remains stiff and doesn’t melt against me the way she usually does. “Can we be okay now?” I ask, desperate for things to be right between us.

I can’t fucking handle one more damn thing right now.

Her fingers fist my hair as she tugs my hair back slightly to grab my attention.

“Don’t keep shit like that from me anymore, and we’ll always be okay, Jackson.”

My stomach knots as I think about the bombshell Wendy dropped on me in the hospital.

I should tell Lee, but I don’t know if I have the fucking energy to go through another argument right now.

I wrap my arms tighter around her waist, squeezing her to me as I collapse against her for a moment.

One thing at a time.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Jax Teller #chibs telford #Mo Astor #MoMondays

[outlier-rookie]

Blood Red (Charles/Reader)

Based on the Camp Conversation where Micah calls Charles Redskin.

Can be read as platonic, familial or romantic.

---

“Can I ask you something Charles?”

Charles looked up from the venison cooking over the fire at you. He said nothing but gestured for you to continue.

“Did something happen? You were in one hell of a mood before we left.”

“It’s nothing.” He replied, turning the meat over.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe that Charles.” came your reply. He sighed, choosing to remain silent as he focused on the meat over the fire. The sound of the fire crackling and the juices of the meat spitting were the only sounds to fill the night. He was almost thankful you didn’t push for an answer, but the feeling of hiding away from what Micah had said left a bad taste in his mouth. The silence between the two of you stretched on for a while longer until the meat had finished cooking as you both tucked in.

“Micah was being his usually self.” Charles eventually revealed. A huff from your side of the fire brought a smile to his face.

“Damn that man. He’s no good for us and yet, Dutch is adamant that we’re all wrong about him.” The latter half of your reply was coated with distaste. “So what’d he do this time?”

“Nothing more than usual.”

“That’s my point. His usual is insulting everyone who ain’t like himself. As if anyone would want to be a greasy weasel like him. Honestly I’m surprised Javier hasn’t gutted him already. I know I’m damn close to cutting him open myself; to hell with what Dutch says about him.”

Despite the heat of your words, Charles felt himself calm somewhat. While Dutch may have been able to rally people to his side with long speeches and honeyed words filled with the promise of a better tomorrow, you lit fires in people with your passion. He’d watched you before, talking to Lenny and Hosea about seemingly anything; Mary-Beth too! You seemingly thirsted for knowledge and wanted to know why. Why someone held such an opinion? Why they believed in this or that or didn’t. Was their view different before? What caused them to change their minds.

“You still with me Chuck?” The nickname brought him back out of his head with a laugh.

“I am forever thankful that you do not call me that around camp.”

“Hey now,” You chuckled “Can’t have anyone else calling you Chuck. That’s my name for ya and only when we’re away from the others. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

Charles once again lapsed into a brief silence.

“He demanded I get him something to eat, and called me Redskin.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“(Y/N), relax. I dealt with him.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to deal with it Charles! Nor should Lenny or Javier! Who gives a crap where you’re from or how dark your skin is. The two of you give more to the gang with one hand between you than Micah does with his entire body.” You grumbled, angrily ripping into your piece of meat.

“Not everyone shares your sentiment (Y/N). But knowing you care so much puts me at ease.” You nodded at his words but said nothing more, choosing instead to chew on your food. The conversation from there dwindled into silence, only being broken when you told Charles you’d take first watch.

 ---

 “Hey Micah!”

“Whatchu want-” The rest of Micah’s responce was cut off as you slammed your fist into the bastards jaw. It wasn’t the cleanest punch but your residual anger made up for that with the extra oomph you put into it. Not giving him a chance to recover you seized him by his coat and threw him to the ground.

“Think you’re so tough don’tcha? Can’t fight someone fair in square so you gotta piss on them to make yourself feel better.” Micah had scrambled to his feet by now and charged at you. Again you grappled with him, getting in another punch to his ugly mug before forcing him to the ground.

“The hell you so pissed about huh?” He spat up at you, his teeth tinged pink.

“I’m talking about that bullshit you said to Charles the other day.” The damn bastard had the gall to laugh.

“Is that all? Is that what this is about?” He continued to laugh. Fury coursed through your veins as you sat on his chest and pulled his disgusting face closer.

“Let me tell you right now Micah Bell. If you ever say something like that to him again, or anything of the same nature to Javier or Lenny or Miss Tilly, I will get you like a fish and dye your skin red with your own blood. You understand me?”

That caused the smile on his lips to die down as he was forced to look you dead in the eyes. Another punch from you broke the staring match.

“I said, you understand me you sorry sack of shit?”

“They ain’t worth it.” Was all he said in response. Roughly pushing him down, you finally extracted yourself from his person, getting in one last kick to his ribs, eliciting a pained groan from the blond man.

“You breathe a word of this talk to Dutch and I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to the bluegill down at the river.” You spat on him one last time before mounting your horse and returning to camp.

 ---

 Charles joined you later that night by main camp fire, eyeing the bottle of whiskey in your hand. The fire bathing you in its warm glow. Sitting beside you, he held out a bowl of stew for you.

“Thank you.” He said as you took the stew and tasted it.

“For what?”

“Ignorance is not a good look on you.” You snorted quietly and resumed eating.

“Yeah well, you know how it is.” You replied with a shrug. “I care for you Chuck. No way in hell was I gonna let him get away with talking to you like that.”

Charles smiled and gently clapped a hand on your shoulder. Silence fell over the two of you as Javier’s guitar sounded from one of the tables.

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x female reader #rdr2 x gn reader #x male reader #x female reader #x gn reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #charles smith x reader #charles smith

[dickspeightjrs]

Money and Misunderstandings (au / 4k words / lawyer!cas / kindergarten teacher!dean)

Prompt 10 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @destielfactory

ao3 link

Dean pulled at his tie again. He could swear they were designed originally as a way to torture people to death.

Sam turned to see his brother fiddling with the knot. “Dude, stop it. The party has barely started, you can’t take your tie off yet.” He slapped Dean’s hand away. 

Dean grumbled. “Fine. I’ll keep it on. But I ain’t gonna act like I’m happy about it.” 

Sam just rolled his eyes in response.

It was looks like the bitch-face Sam was giving him that made Dean almost regret being proud as hell of his kid brother. 

Sam had just graduated from law school and managed to get an internship at the extremely prestigious Novak & Sons. Dean knew that the company must be a big deal because it had recently been splashed across the news. 

Apparently, the super old guy who owned the law firm had bitten the dust and left the whole thing to one of his sons. Dean couldn’t see the big deal about it all but Sam had been glued to the news the week that it all went down. 

Regardless, Sam was now an intern (though an unpaid one so Dean still helped him out with rent and bills), which meant he got invited to swanky parties thrown by the firm any time they sealed a major deal with another supposedly big deal client. 

Sam might be able to fit in with these snooty bastards, but Dean couldn’t. This wasn’t even a damn party. Just a bunch of rich people standing around chortling at each other and having conversations about the newest yacht they’d bought. 

Dean was interrupted in his grumblings by a guy walking up to him and Sam. 

“Winchester, isn’t it?” The guy asked Sam, obnoxiously. 

Dean bristled. This guy didn’t even know Sam’s name. Douchebag. 

“Yes, sir, it’s Sam.” Sam stuck out his hand for the man to shake. The man accepted, giving it a sharp shake. 

Then he turned his hard gaze to Dean. 

“And who is this?” The man said with a subtle sneer. 

“Oh, this is my brother, Dean Winchester. Dean, this is my boss, Michael Novak.” Sam introduced them. 

Ah! The ultimate douchebag. 

Neither man offered a hand to shake. They’d sussed each other already. 

“And what is it you do Dean?” Because you certainly don’t belong here. 

“I’m a kindergarten teacher.” Dean said, proudly 

Michael’s face soured further (if that was even possible). 

“Don’t they say that teaching kindergarten is like glorified babysitting?” Michael chortled. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. This guy was already skating on thin fucking ice. And that ice just cracked. 

“Listen here, asshole.” Dean pointed a finger at the suited bastard. He could see Sam cringe and look at the floor next to him. But nothing would stop him now. “My kids are awesome. I’m teaching them to be even more awesome adults when they’re older. I just hope none of them turn into jumped up douchebags like you.”

“Dean!” Sam despaired. 

“Sorry, Sam.” Dean mumbled. But he wasn’t sorry. Not really. He was only sorry that he’d embarrassed his brother. He would never apologise for defending his choice of career. 

Dean chanced a glance at Michael. If the dude was a cartoon, he’d probably have steam coming out of his ears right about now. 

“I’m going to the bar.” Dean murmured, leaving Sam to apologise on his brother’s behalf. 

Dean hoped there wouldn’t be consequences for Sam after his outburst. He just hated it when people looked down on other people for their jobs. Basic respect for others was something he prioritises with his kindergarteners. It was a shame that some adults couldn’t seem to grasp the concept. 

He walked through the crowd of guests like a storm cloud towards the bar. 

Luckily, it seemed most of the attendees were relying on the waiters for their drink orders meaning the bar was empty save for the bartender. Dean slumped onto one of the stools. 

“What’re you after, Brother?” The guy asked as he made his way over to Dean. 

“Whatever isn’t that fancy shit everyone else sees to be having.” 

The bartender, Benny his name tag read, laughed a deep, rich laugh. “I feel that. How’s a good, smooth whiskey sound?”

“Finally, someone talking my language.” Dean smiled. 

Benny passed him over a tumbler of gorgeous brown liquid. 

Dean lifted it in silent cheers and downed it in one go, sucking his lips at the sharp burn it sent down his throat. “Another one where that came from, dude.” Dean slid the glass across the bar top back towards Benny. 

“You sure, Brother?” Benny questioned. 

“Sure as shit. I gotta get through this night somehow.” Dean mumbled. 

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” A voice that wasn’t Benny’s (or Sam’s for that matter) appeared from Dean’s right. 

Dean turned his head to find a dude around his age looking back at him with distinctive blue eyes. 

The guy had on a suit and tie much like that other people in the room. But, the tie was loosened and curled backwards towards the end. His top button was undone and his trenchcoat that blanketed the whole outfit seemed as though it was barely hanging on to his shoulders. 

How come this guy could come dressed like that but Dean couldn't loosen the tie that had been strangling him for two hours already. (The dude looked like he’d just had seven minutes in heaven with someone in the cleaning cupboard for god’s sake!)

Dean was snapped out of his judgement of the guy in front of him by Benny placing a fresh glass of whiskey on the counter. The bartenders gave him a wink and looked slyly over to the trenchcoat guy still standing, leaning against the bar. 

What was Benny trying to say? 

Dean didn’t have long to think it over as the bartender moved away to collect dirty glasses at the other end of the bar, leaving Dean and the trenchcoat guy alone. 

“So,” Trenchcoat Guy continued, perching himself on the seat next to Dean, “what are you doing here if this evening is so torturous to you?” The words were said, not with bitter condescension like Michael might have asked, but, it seemed, with genuine interest. 

Alright, Dean could play ball. Plus, this guy was hot. Dean would be thinking of a flirtatious answer if he wasn’t conscious of embarrassing Sam again by hitting on someone who is probably one of his co-workers.

“I’m here with my brother, Sam.” Dean explained. “He’s just started as an intern here. Wouldn’t kill the bastards to pay him though, he works harder than any kid I know.” 

Dean winced. He has gotta stop insulting the people Sam works with or for. 

“And I take it, this isn’t your usual environment to socialise in?” Trenchcoat Guy enquired. 

Dean huffed a laugh. “You could say that. Turns out I don’t so much enjoy being looked down on for my job, no matter how much I might love my brother.” 

Trenchcoat Guy frowned. “What happened?”

“Some dude called Michael made a dick comment about me being a kindergarten teacher. Told him exactly what I thought about his opinion and embarrassed my brother in the process. So I sought refuge at the bar.” 

Blue eyes darkened. “That’s appalling! I’m sorry that happened.” Trenchcoat Guy placed an earnest but comforting hand on Dean’s. “Being a teacher is incredibly admirable. You’re helping to shape and guide future members of society.” He assured. “There’s nothing more noble than that. Definitely not a lawyer who seems to see the money before the client.” 

Where had this guy come from? He seemed a little weird and dorky but also genuine and caring. 

Dean shrugged off the compliment. Just because he wasn’t okay with people disrespecting his job, didn’t mean he was comfortable being showered with praise and kind words. 

Instead, Dean flagged down Benny and asked for a beer, looking to Trenchcoat Guy to silently ask if he’d like one too. Trenchcoat Guy nodded. 

The two men kept eye contact as they took the first sips of their beers. Dean’s eyes fell to the way the guy’s lips shaped around the lip of the bottle. He flicked his eyes up again to find the guy had seen the movement. He knew exactly what he was doing to Dean, if the way he slowly licked lingering droplets of beer from his bottom lip was anything to go by. 

Any other day, any other time and Dean would have jumped at the chance to, well, jump this guy. But, he wouldn't do that to Sam. 

Instead, he cursed the fates for sending him this awesome guy at exactly the wrong time. Taking another sip of his beer, he moved to get up from his seat. He’d better go find Sam and check he hadn’t ruined his brother’s position in the company. 

He was about to open his mouth to bid the beautiful stranger goodbye when the guy’s eyes left Dean’s and locked onto something over Dean’s shoulder. The blood seemed to drain from his face. Frantic blue eyes snapped back to Dean’s.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused at the turn this had taken. He could feel his resolve slipping. Sam’s reputation be damned. 

The guy didn’t answer. 

Suddenly, his hand was on Dean’s cheek and he was placing a deep kiss on Dean’s lips. 

Dean had no idea what was going on but his night had improved dramatically in the last three seconds so he definitely wasn’t going to complain. He placed a hand on the guy’s waist, pulling him in closer to his own body. 

After a few heated moments, the guy pulled away. Though Dean kept the hand on his waist so he couldn’t move far. He wasn’t letting him go any time soon, that was for sure. 

“I’m sorry.” Trenchcoat Guy panted, chest rising to gulp down air that he’d been deprived of. “My assbutt of an ex was coming towards us.” He tried to step back out of Dean’s embrace. 

But Dean held his grip firm. 

“No need to apologise, dude.” Dean assured. 

Looking into the guy’s eyes, feeling his moving chest against his own, Dean could feel his will power slipping. 

Screw it. 

Dean pressed his forehead against the other man’s. “Stop me if you don’t want this.” He whispered before he placed his lips over the other man’s.

The kiss was deepened instantly. By who Dean wasn’t sure but at this point, he really didn’t care. 

Dean allowed himself to be manhandled against the bar, never breaking the passionate connection he had with this wonderful stranger. 

As if the guy could read his mind he softened the kiss to whisper briefly against Dean’s lips. “I’m Castiel, by the way.”

Dean’s brain was so preoccupied that he could barely stutter out his own name in return. 

“Hmm.” Castiel hummed against Dean’s lips. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, Dean. But I’d very much like it if you took me home. Right now.” 

They broke apart and Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes. The calm blue from before had been replaced with seductive black. 

Yep. This was definitely happening. 

“Let’s go.” Dean grabbed Castiel’s hand to drag him towards the exit. 

But Castiel stopped him. 

“What about your brother?”

Shit. Trust his downstairs brain to throw logic out the window and forget about his brother. 

But he dreaded seeing the look of disappointment on Sam’s face when he told him where he was going. And who with. 

“Don’t worry, Brother.” Benny’s voice spoke up from the bar. “I’ll find him and let know you’ve gone home.” 

Dean shot Benny a grateful look. “Thanks, man.” He tried not to weirded out that Benny had seen what had just gone down. 

He once again grabbed Castiel’s hand and tugged him towards the nearest exit. 

Once outside, Dean hailed a taxi. He would have loved to have shown Castiel his beautiful 67 Impala but he’d had a couple of drinks and there was no way he was going to risk driving home. Plus, even without the drinks, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself long enough to get back to his. 

As soon as they made it through Dean’s front door, he sobered slightly. As respectful and understanding as Castiel had been earlier, he was clearly used to the finer things in life if he was at the firm party. Dean and Sam’s apartment was a far cry from that. 

“It’s not much…” Dean explained. 

Castiel turned from where he’d been doing a quick scan of the main room to lock eyes with Dean. “The only thing I’m concerned with right now is where your bed is.”

Dean could only point towards the corridor leading to his room. 

Castiel gave Dean a dark look and pulled him along by his tie. Maybe ties weren’t so bad after all. 

*  *  *

The next morning, Dean awoke to the feel of bare skin against his own. 

The body on top of his shifted and he could feel a rumble travel up through it. 

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel hummed. 

“Mornin’, Sunshine.” Dean sighed, nuzzling into Castiel’s dark hair and placing a kiss against his temple. 

Dean was about to suggest breakfast when he sensed the stomping moose steps of Sam coming down the corridor outside his room. 

“I don’t care if you’re hungover, I’m shouting at-” Sam stormed into the room. But he was cut off by the sight in front of him.

Dean cringed. Benny obviously hadn’t told Sam everything when they’d left last night. 

“Oh my god! Mr Novak!” Sam snapped himself back to reality. 

Dean turned to look at Castiel. Mr Novak? Was Castiel one of the stuck up sons of bitches sitting on a heck ton of money and not giving any of it to hard working interns like Sam? 

“Hello, Samuel.” Castiel greeted, lifting himself to sit against the headboard. “You can call me Castiel. I feel as though we’ve moved past the normal professional relationship now.” 

“Okay, Castiel.” Sam was clearly still in shock. “I’m just going to leave now.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and then ducked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. 

Dean turned again to Castiel. “Okay, what just happened?” He asked, completely confused as hell. 

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s. “I’ll explain everything but I think you need to go and make sure your brother is okay.” 

Dean was unsure. He didn’t want to just leave Castiel in his bed alone. 

“Go, Dean. I’ll wait here for you.” Castiel said, sensing Dean’s apprehension. 

“Okay.” Dean submitted, quickly pecking Castiel on the lips before getting up from the bed, throwing on some boxers and leaving the room. 

It wasn't until he was closing the bedroom door behind him that Dean realised he’d just kissed Castiel goodbye like they were boyfriends or something. 

Way to go, Dean. Scare the dude off before anything had properly started. 

Anyway, one problem at a time, he thought as he rounded the corner to find Sam pacing the length of the living room. 

“So…” Dean began, awkwardly. 

“I can’t believe you, Dean.” Sam said, angrily. “Did you not think of my career at all? Of all the people to go home with at that party, you went home with my boss?” 

Hang on..

“Boss?” Dean asked, “I thought that Michael dude was your boss?!” Dean said, confused as hell. 

Sam ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner. “I’m an intern, Dean. Practically everyone in the damn company is my boss. And Castiel? He’s the boss.”

Dean paled. “What?”

Sam sighed. “He runs the whole damn thing! Didn’t you see the news a couple months ago? His dad died and left the whole firm solely to Castiel. It created a big stink because his brothers, including Michael Novak, didn’t get a look in. They’ve been contesting the will for months now.”

Dean slumped onto the couch. He couldn’t believe it. Castiel had lied to him? Well, maybe not lied, just didn’t tell the whole truth. 

Sam saw Dean's mood suddenly turn and frowned. “You really didn’t know?” 

Dean silently shook his head. 

“I’m sure he has his reasons for not saying anything.” Sam tried to reassure his brother. 

Dean waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.” He said. “Yeah, I really like the guy, but once he realises who he shacked up with, he’s not gonna hang around.” He shrugged, accepting the situation for what it was. 

There was no way someone like Castiel, with that amount of wealth and riches, would be interested when he understood that Dean was a grown man who still lived with his little because they couldn’t afford much else right now. 

“Why don’t you let him decide that for himself?” Sam asked, pulling Dean from his negative thoughts. “All I know is, I’ve only met Castiel a handful of times but he’s only one of the Novak brothers that has ever tried to even learn my name.” 

Dean was torn. This was such a big thing for Castiel to neglect to mention. 

“Man, I don’t know. This only started because he was hiding from an ex at the party.” Dean explained. “And now I say it out loud, it sounds like a lie. God, I’m so stupid.” He dropped his head into his hands. 

“Damnit, Dean!” Don’t you ever watch anything on TV other than Doctor Sexy?” 

Huh? Dean shot his brother a confused squint. 

Sam shook his head in exasperation. “Even before their dad dying and the inheritance fiasco, the Novak brothers have always been sort of minor celebrities - comes with the money I guess.” Sam explained. “All I know is that he did have what the media called a ‘messy break up’ with a guy who worked for the company. And he was definitely at the party last night.” 

Dean sighed. He didn’t know what to think. 

“Look, Dean. You clearly like this guy already. He’s literally in your room waiting for you. Go talk to him.” 

Dean nodded and stood up, taking a determined breath. 

Sam gave him a supportive pat on the back. 

Just before he left the room, Dean turned back to his brother. “Are we good?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, man, we’re good.”

Dean nodded and left. 

When he re-entered his room, Castiel was still sitting in Dean’s bed, picking at a thread in the covers. He looked up at the sound of the door clicking shut. 

“How did it go?” Castiel asked, patting the space next to himself, silently asking Dean to join him again. 

Dean sat on the bed, but he didn’t get back under the covers next to Castiel. He still wasn’t sure what to do. “It’s okay. We smoothed everything out.” Dean nodded. “Found out some stuff about you though.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the boss? My brother’s boss?!” Dean asked, pleading for an explanation. 

“I wanted to come up to you. I’d already seen you from across the room earlier and when I finally gathered the courage to come up to you, you were complaining about my party and clearly had no idea who I was.” Castiel explained. 

Dean flushed. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Dean.” Castiel reached over to take Dean’s hand in both of his. “It was refreshing. With everything that has been going on recently, it was nice to have a break from that. And then my ex-boyfriend was coming towards us. And, well, you know the rest…” Castiel trailed off. 

“The douchebag who everyone seems to know about except me.” Dean added. “He sounds like a son of a bitch.” 

Castiel hummed in agreement. “That’s an understatement.” He muttered. “I found out Bart was sleeping with someone else a few months ago and I ended it immediately.” Castiel paused at Dean’s whispered ‘bastard’. “However, when my father died, he tried crawling back. He was probably after my new wealth and position in the company. I, of course, rejected him. But, Bart is the kind of person who doesn’t take no for an answer.” 

Dean scowled. He may have only just found out the diner details, but he wouldn’t hesitate to punch that dick in the face if he ever saw him. 

Taking in Castiel’s downtrodden look, Dean sighed. “I understand all of that Cas. But you heard me last night. You run the show and you seem like a decent guy but how can you have hard working interns like Sam and not pay them a cent? While you sit on a literal throne of money?” 

Dean looked down at his lap. He wasn’t sure he was going to like whatever Castiel had to say. 

“Dean,” Castiel lifted Dean’s chin to make the man look at him, “I completely agree with everything you said. That’s one of the reasons my father left everything to me.” Castiel explained. “He knew I had new ideas for the company. He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to hand it over to his sons. So he left it all to me on the sole condition that I go ahead with the changes that I wanted to implement.” 

Dean let out a breath and smiled. Okay, this sounded good. “What, uh, kinda stuff are you changing?” 

“Firstly, we’re going to be taking on a lot more pro bono cases. We are sitting on a throne of money, as you say,” Dean blushed, “and it’s time we actually did something good with it.” 

Dean nodded. Now Castiel mentioned it, he remembered Sam saying something about that when he’d first joined Novak & Sons.

“And,” Castiel continued, “though it hasn’t been announced to the public or even the employees themselves, interns will be getting a competitive rate of pay. You’re right. They do work hard for us and they deserve to be properly credited for it.” 

Dean certainly hadn’t expected that. He’d expected Cas to say that it was out of his hands, or just simply that’s how things worked there. 

“Now, can you please say something? I’m worried I’ve ruined this before it could even begin.” Castiel asked, shyly.

Dean smiled softly. “As long as you don’t mind slumming it with someone like me, I only have one more question.” Castiel nodded. 

“Can I kiss you?”

Dean would give anything to never see that smile leave Cas’ face. 

Instead of answering, Castiel pulled Dean towards him by the shoulder. The smile didn’t leave his face as Dean pressed a long, sweet kiss to his lips. 

“I hope you’re ready,” Castiel said later after they’d parted for breath, “making out with the boss last night would have made quite a spectacle.” 

Dean made a noise of indifference just as Sam shouted from the living room. “Woah, dude! You’re on the news making out with Castiel!” 

“Told you.” Castiel said, triumphantly. 

Dean just laughed and pulled Castiel back in for another deep kiss. 

*  *  * 

They still had a few issues to iron out before they embarked on a relationship, but in the end those issues seemed like small bumps in the road and it was a smooth ride after that. 

Despite his brother’s relationship with the boss, Sam was treated no differently to anyone else. It was important to Castiel to make it clear that any achievements Sam had were entirely down to Sam himself and he had not been handed anything under family privileges. 

And Sam’s hard work paid off. Within a few years, Novak & Sons had another major overhaul and became Winchester & Novak. (Castiel’s brothers had had something to say about, but as he’d been doing for years until that point, he just ignored them.)

Though, it was only a few months after the changes that Dean asked Castiel how pissed off his brothers would be if it was changed again to Winchester & Winchester. Castiel had just laughed and let Dean place the ring on his finger. 

(Turns out, his brothers were extremely pissed off. Oh well.) 

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Daria! It ended up being longer than I expected but I’m quite happy with how it turned out.

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

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TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover @aelysianmuse @2musiclover2

(let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list, we don’t have to be mutuals!)

#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #myfic #au #fluff #angst #4k #strangers to lovers #teacher!dean #lawyer!cas #rich!cas #minor:sam #minor:benny #minor:michael #prompt fill

[christmaximumpunishment]

A Mondo Owada/Kazuichi Soda Fic

Monday: Flowers, Festival, Fireworks

Summary: Mondo has a special plan for the school festival, and only the best mechanic in town can help him.

Kazuichi Soda’s heart sank when he heard some rumbling down the street. He only worked the shop for a few hours after school, but it was always this last hour that had all the worst customers. When he finally saw a Kawasaki motorcycle pull into the shop’s parking lot, he knew he’d landed a last-minute headache. It was mostly the heinous pompadour on the driver. 

Man, ever since I dyed my hair pink I’ve gotten nothing but punks hanging around me at school. Now I gotta deal with em here, too?

Kazuichi grumbled in his head. He’d seen biker gang-types at school before, but he’d done his best to keep his distance. 

People like that...can’t be trusted.

Not wanting to interact any more than necessary, Kazuichi went back to his tinkering and waited for his latest headache to walk into the office next door and order properly. His dad could handle all of the talking. 

Mondo Owada pulled up and parked just outside of the shop. Seeing someone working in the shade of the garage, Mondo took two steps away from his bike before squinting to see inside. He could tell someone was there, but they kept working, instead of greeting him. Instead of looking around for an attendant or sign, Mondo shouted across the parking lot. “HEY ASSHOLE, DOES KAZUICHI SODA WORK HERE?”

Kazuichi jumped at the sudden mention of his name. He started to duck under his work bench, but his hand caught a wrench sitting on top. His head tucked under the top of the bench just in time for the wrench to tip off the edge and onto his head with a light, but dense *thwack.*

"Ow!" whined Kazuichi, standing back up and rubbing his head involuntarily. "Who… who wants to know?"

Mondo had wandered a bit closer by now, and could finally make out the mechanic's face under the shade. "Mondo Owada, and what do you mean who wants to…Oh hey, there you are, you son of a bitch! Pink hair, just like they said," Mondo chuckled. "I've been looking all over for you, you little shit."

Kazuichi picked up his assailant wrench and started fidgeting with some metal pieces strewn about his workspace. He was trying not to make eye contact until he could figure out if he was relieved the larger boy was happy to see him or threatened by his abrasive way of talking. "Look man, I don't know who sent you my way, but my dad handles the orders in the office next door. If you got something you need, take it up with him."

"No man, my business is with you. Special order. My buddies told me no grease monkey in town would take this job, expect you. Sounds to me like you've got what I need. So hear me out, man."

Here we go, another punk buttering me up so he can ask whatever he wants of me. I'll probably say yes too, damn it.

Kazuichi tried to stay focused on the *very important* scraps in front of him. He'd have an easier time keeping his nerve if he didn't look the biker in his eyes. They were...a little distracting. And intense, definitely mostly just intense. "Come on man, not like I don’t have my hands full already, you know?” But the mechanic knew it didn't matter. It’s not like he was going to risk a black eye over one job, and with a sigh, Kazuichi caved. “Alright fine, what do you want? Illegal rewiring or something?"

"No, what? I want rockets on my bike, man."

Kazuichi felt those words fly through his skull and come right out the other side. “Wait, what did you just say,” the boy stammered, barely able to contain his optimism.

“Jesus Christ, I said ‘rockets,’ man. Like fireworks? I’m trying to plan a stunt for fuck’s sake. And I heard you were the guy to go to.”

The young mechanic started seeing stars, and briefly questioned how hard he’d hit his head. “A, a motorcycle stunt?! With fireworks?! That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard of!”

The neat but snaggle-toothed grin from the mechanic gave Mondo a pause, before he shot back with a smile of his own. “Well I’ll be damned, so you do have what I need. With a crazy bastard like you with me, I might just pull this off!”

“Yeah, yeah! I can totally think of some ways to rig up some extra gadgets on that ride. This is gonna be so...what, exactly?” The mental image of the muscular biker riding through the sky with streamers and colored smoke trails had become so vivid in the boy’s mind, he’d almost forgotten how little he knew about this plan he was agreeing to. “Sorry, guess I got a little carried away. What’s this all for?”

“You don’t know, man? We go to the same school right?” Mondo shook his head, then sat in an empty stool across from Kazuichi’s workbench. If he was going to have to explain all this, he was going to be comfy. “It’s for the school’s fireworks event in a few weeks. This dipshit in my class got put in charge of the show this year, but he’s got a giant stick up his ass. Said something about how we couldn’t set off anything that was against school regulations. So I say ‘Fuck that.’ If he’s not going to put on a decent show, I’ll do it my-fucking-self. So, are you going to help me, or am I just wasting my fucking time?”

“Are you kidding me? That sounds awesome! No one’s ever asked me to put rockets on something before. Last time I did that, I got smacked for messing with the school’s field striper.”

“That was you? Oh man, that shit was fucking hilarious! All those assholes in the field, running after it and shit? You’re a fucking genius, you goddamn weasel!”

Kazuichi broke eye contact again. This guy had some nerve bringing up one of his mess-ups like that and being so...nice about it. “Well it wasn’t supposed to do that. Not exactly like that anyway. I wasn’t finished yet, okay!”

“Well, I’ll come by a lot to see how it’s going, so there won’t be any doubt from me on how you’re doing,” Mondo said, getting off of the workshop stool he’d helped himself to.

“What, are you nervous I’m going to mess up your bike or something? I know what I’m doing, man! I’m not just some dipshit, you know!”

“No duh, dipshit,” Mondo retorted as he put his hands on his hips, “you wouldn’t be going near my bike if I didn’t think you knew what you were doing. Why do you think I’m all the way out here, talking to your grease-monkey ass? I’m just pumped up, that's all. Shit’s gonna be awesome, you know?”

Does this guy...believe in me? I haven’t even done anything yet, and he’s already excited for my work?

Kazuichi couldn’t help but second-guess his suspicious first impression of the loud, vulgar boy. He was very used to being asked to make and do all kinds of things. But any time he can remember doing something for his father or ex-best friend, any praise for him came much later, much milder, or not at all. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re right! This is gonna be totally awesome! Leave it to me, Mondo!”

Kazuichi stepped out from behind his workbench and stepped closer to Mondo, offering his hand to the other boy. Mondo reciprocated with a smile, and the two boys shook hands enthusiastically. When they stopped shaking, Mondo said, “I can’t wait to see the look on that asshole’s face when we kick the shit out of his lame-ass fireworks show. You’re gonna come with me and watch, right?”

“Of course! No way I’d miss a stunt like that! I gotta make sure it goes off without a hitch.”

“Alright, it’s a promise then!"

With that Kazuichi slunk behind his table again, ready to resume work. To his surprise, Mondo made himself at home on the same stool, rather than making his way out.

After a brief lull in the conversation, Mondo spoke up. "So...uh… what kind of rockets were you thinking? Cuz I got some guys under me that could get us some pretty crazy shit."

"Yeah, you got it!"

"Oh, uh… I'm not quite sure. Honestly I've got some projects to get to before I can work on your bike. You might wanna bring it by tomorrow. I’ll come up with something by then." Kazuichi was a little nervous to be put on the spot, but he wasn't lying. While much of what he'd been nervously tinkering with was junk, he had a pretty sizable to-do list on his clipboard, and only an hour before he'd be reporting in with his dad.

Mondo scratched at the back of his head and said, with less fire than before, “Yeah alright, I’ll get out of your hair then. I’ll see you tomorrow. This Summer Festival is gonna be fucking awesome though!”

“S-Summer Festival?! Wait, your stunt is for the Summer Festival?” Kazuichi began nervously clawing at his beanie. This new realization might have hit his head harder than the wrench did moments ago. 

“Yeah, no shit man. What other school event would have fucking fireworks at it? You seriously just now put that shit together?”

“I usually skip school events, so I wasn’t really paying attention to the schedule. But I had plans for this one. I was going to ask Miss Sonia to go with me...” He hadn’t thought about her in a little while, but with how busy he was about to be, the thought of asking the Ultimate Princess out seemed more daunting than normal.

Mondo had been chuckling at the mechanic losing his cool over a silly mistake, but he wasn’t laughing at this. “Fuck that, man. You should’ve thought of that before you made a promise to me. Tell your girlfriend you’ll catch up with her later or something, I don’t fucking care.” 

Kazuichi felt all of the anxiety pooling in his stomach rise up at this comment. He snapped back at his new friend, “Miss Sonia’s not my girlfriend, okay?! That festival was gonna be our first date, you know? If she...had time...and wanted to go...with me.”

Kazuichi thought he heard Mondo soften his tone just a little as he scolded back, “Look man, if it means that much to you, fine. Ask this girl out if you think you’ve got a chance... I won’t make you go with me if you don’t want to. But don’t fucking promise that quickly like it’s not a big deal, got it?”

The biker’s words hit surprisingly hard when he lowered his voice. Kazuichi muttered remorsefully, his guilt growing. “Look man, it’s not that I don’t care about giving my word or some shit like that. I just...this could be my big chance! A big festival with an awesome fireworks show *I* helped make? This might finally be my big break! She might actually say ‘yes’ this time!” The mechanic did his best to sound optimistic, but... 

God, it sounds so fuckin’ pathetic when I say it out loud.

But what sympathy Mondo had burned away quickly. He leaned forward in his stool and fired off, incredulously, “what the fuck do you mean, ‘this time?’ You mean you already struck out? How many times have you asked this chick out?”

“I don’t know! You think I’d keep track of something like that? Geez, are you trying to make me depressed?”

“Like hell you don’t know! I’ve struck out the past eight fucking times I asked someone out! But you better believe they were eight different people!” 

...people? What’s this guy implying? And what’s his problem, anyway?

“Look Mondo, I just...only have eyes for Miss Sonia. I haven’t fallen for any other girls...er...people, since I first saw her. And besides, she could change her mind, right? You can’t say she won’t!”

“It doesn’t matter if she changes her mind, you dipshit. If she said ‘no,’ there’s your answer. Fucking done. If she has second-thoughts later, that’s her fucking business. Leave her alone man. Go find someone else.”

That’s it? Just give the fuck up?

The mechanic was indignant. “Hey man, she’s not just some school girl, she’s a fucking princess! I’d never find someone like her if I gave up now!”

“I don’t care if she’s a princess or the goddamn Prime Minister! She’s a girl who’s not. Fucking. Into you. Jesus man, have a little self-respect! You’re the most capable mechanic in this city and you’re a fucking high school student! You’ve got the second-in-command of the largest biker gang in history asking around town for your mom-and-pop bike shop. You’re seriously gonna grovel on the ground like a fucking pig for people that don’t even like you? Do you wanna feel like a useless piece of shit? Because I can stomp you into the fucking ground if that’s how you wanna feel.” Mondo sounded angry now, and a little hurt. But he didn’t move toward the mechanic. He just burned his stare into the other boy’s eyes.

The gangster was more intimidating now than he had been the entire time he’d been in Kazuichi’s garage, but just this once, Kazuichi kept Mondo’s intense stare. He didn’t know what to say right away. 

I just met this guy today, and he’s gonna act like he knows me so well? He’s just another asshole here to kick me while I’m down.

But that feeling didn’t stick. It couldn’t stick. The biker had been loud. He’d been vulgar and aggressive and pushy. But he’d...believed in Kazuichi. Seen him as more than a fuck-up, more than a punk, more than...a pig. 

He said he wants to go with me. When has anyone wanted me around, when nothing else needed to be built? Who else has liked me for what I liked or what I was passionate about?

When he did manage to speak, he finally broke Mondo’s stare and looked down at his tools. “What am I...doing, man? You came into my garage, what, twenty minutes ago? And you can already say shit like that to me? How am I supposed to handle another two weeks of you cutting me to my core like that, huh?”

Mondo was ready to snap back, but the slight vulnerability and joking tone of Kazuichi’s words made him rethink speaking too quickly. But eventually he did speak, and his tone hummed with the smile he was forming. “Well, if you can learn to quit being a dipshit, I’ve got no problem easing off of you. You’ve got a lot of good to you, Kazuichi. When you’re not being a dumbass.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks to help me work on it. Guess it’ll be payback for this special order of yours. And then...we’ll show that festival what the hell the two of us can do.”

“You got yourself a fucking deal, Soda.”

It was a deal neither boy needed to shake hands on or promise to keep.

#danganronpa #mondo owada #kazuichi soda #mondo x kazuichi #kazuichi x mondo #sdr2 #danganrarepairweek2021 #my writing