#at least clay’s got better dad figures

[suzukiblu]

Day five of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

The Superboy problem is a problem, but it's a backburner problem. There isn't really much Tim can do about it, after all. Bruce isn't gonna accept "hey so I know secret identities and maintaining the Bat-mystique and everything but could you just like . . . take in an extremely high-profile teenage superhero with no vested interest in maintaining any kind of secret identity of his own, maybe?" as a plan. Tim needs something better. Something more functional. And also something Kon will actually go for.

And there's just no way that Tim can just walk up to a notoriously independent and proud and defensive teammate who barely considers him an acquaintance and say "do you want an apartment and monthly living expenses and maybe also an allowance, no strings attached?"

That would be weird, definitely.

Like. Very definitely.

Tim's still tempted to try it, mind. It's not like he couldn't afford it, with a little bit of abuse of his trust fund and a lot of lying to his dad. And really, would that even be an abuse? If helping his teammate live his fucking life outside of a fucking lab counts as an abuse . . .

Well, maybe he really will move up his supervillain timeline, that's all.

But it's a backburner problem, still, and Tim isn't actually thinking about it at all when his best chance to solve it pops up. What Tim is doing is suffering through a field trip to a Metropolis art museum, because the school board is full of cowards and thinks sending his grade to an outside-Gotham museum will decrease the chances of said field trip being interrupted by a museum robbery.

Obviously it will, but come on, they're from Gotham. Like they can't handle a museum robbery.

Also all the art here is pretentious. Like, in obnoxious Metropolis-type ways.

If Tim has to look at one more stylized interpretation of the sun reflecting on a skyscraper while a "subtle" caped figure flies by in the background, he will actually choke. Like literally, actually choke.

Get one original thought. Please. Someone. Anyone.

(No, the stylized interpretations of the moon reflecting on a Gothic building while a subtle caped figure looms among the gargoyles are not equally uncreative, thank you very much. At least duplicating Gotham architecture involves some actual artistry beyond "paint a few straight lines and add a lens flare".)

Tim takes some half-assed notes about the boringly generic exhibit they're here to see and then goes looking for literally anything more interesting than said exhibit. There's got to be some photography somewhere in this place, right? Or at least some loaner art that somebody outside of Metropolis put together before Superman's public debut. Or something.

He ends up in the ancient Mesopotamian exhibit mostly by trying to avoid people and, unfortunately, immediately runs straight into a magical artifact. He doesn't actually know it's magic at the time, but the assholes who are about to blow in an outside wall in pursuit of it sure do.

Tim, unfortunately oblivious to phenomenal cosmic power in clay form, thinks it looks kind of like a cute little toy goat and is just grateful it isn't another skyscraper.

Then the wall gets blown in.

"The school board deserves this," Tim mutters, closing his notebook and sticking it back in his bag because sure, why not. This might as well happen.

Ugh.

The very obvious thieves rush in through the gap in the wall. A few people scream–Tim assumes to be polite, since this is already the most unimpressive museum robbery he's seen in months–and the civilians scatter as the guards rush forward. Tim wonders why anyone's even bothering, given that this is Metropolis. What, are they worried the thieves aren't gonna validate their parking for them?

Seriously, Tim knows all the robbery statistics in this city. Even when Superman doesn't show up, the injury and fatality rates are shockingly low. It's statistically more dangerous to go for a walk in Gotham Park mid-afternoon than it is to be present for an armed robbery in Metropolis.

Which is funny, considering the people doing armed robberies in Metropolis come armed for Superman.

Look, Tim doesn't understand the statistics, he just records them.

The thieves tie up the guards first, which seems like a waste of time to Tim when time is of the essence but probably will be for the best if they get pinned down in the gallery, he supposes. Then again, that'd likely end up in a hostage situation anyway, so why worry about containing a couple of unarmed guards over saving thirty seconds when you're doing a smash and grab?

Seems inefficient to him, considering.

He keeps assessing the situation and taking mental notes as he ushers various classmates and museum-goers towards comparative safety, since a successful supervillain timeline requires appropriate research and development. And also, Metropolis-based criminals should know how to work around Superman, at least in theory, so it's best to keep an eye on what does and doesn't work for them.

Not for any specific reason, obviously.

Definitely not.

One of the thieves goes for the little clay goat, smashing its glass display case with their armored elbow, and only then do the museum alarms start screaming. Seems like a stupid design choice when an exploding wall doesn't set them off, but whatever, at least there are alarms.

Honestly, if it were him, Tim would have a silent alarm and a secondary alarm set to a specifically Superman-discernable frequency, though he's sure Superman would get sick of that quick in non-life-threatening situations, so maybe there are local regulations about that or something, who knows. He should look into that, actually. Or just play something annoying on a frequency normal human hearing can’t discern and see what happens, if nothing else.

They make sonic fences to keep dogs in and teenagers out, don't they? Same theory.

The thieves are all yelling orders to each other and arguing; no clear chain of command and a poorly-established plan, Tim notes. Most of the civilians are clear or behind cover, so if he just–

Right, Tim remembers belatedly as one of the thieves makes a grab for him. He's currently wearing civilian wear, isn't he.

That probably means he needs to let this incredibly clumsy grab work, doesn't it, he reflects resignedly. Definitely it does, actually.

Ugh.

Tim, dubiously, lets the thief grab him and debates how upset he's supposed to look about this situation. A Gothamite can't look too freaked out over a Metropolis criminal, obviously; he'd never live it down at school. Seriously, is this guy even armed, he–

Ah, never mind. Definitely armed.

And an idiot with no concept of trigger safety, judging by the way he's holding the gun he's currently jamming into Tim's temple.

Great. Just great.

What does this moron even think he's doing, anyway? The guards are all tied up, as far as he knows there's no superheroes on scene, and nobody's actually trying to stop them. If he accidentally murders a civilian right now, they're all going to be in way, way worse trouble than just stealing a little clay goat would entail.

Tim resists the urge to point that out since there is, again, a gun to his head right now and the person holding it there is in fact a moron with no concept of trigger safety. Not an ideal time to start a conversation, especially not to criticize said moron.

It's tempting, just again, not ideal.

"The fuck are you doing?!" one of the thieves yells to the one going to a really unnecessary amount of effort to drag Tim along. "You were supposed to grab a little kid for the hostage!"

"There's no little kids, Mark!" the thief holding Tim protests petulantly. "I'm doing my best here, man!"

"No names, asshole!" the apparent "Mark" yells back at him.

Tim is pretty sure these thieves are just not very good at crime in general. Or possibly just not very good at anything at all.

He starts calculating the best place to "trip" out of this guy's arms and "accidentally" elbow him in the dick–off-camera, obviously, he doesn't want to leave any footage for anyone to review later–and pretends to be a good little hostage in the meantime, if not a particularly cowed one. Again: Gothamite. He can't actually let it look like a Metropolis criminal did anything worse than mildly annoy him.

Okay, maybe like, Lex Luthor or Brainiac could get a Gothamite past "mildly annoyed", but not a half-assed handful of petty thieves with a shitty plan and an even shittier exit strategy. They would've been better off running in, grabbing what they wanted, and then just scattering; even Superman can't be everywhere at once, especially if the thieves all blended into the crowd or had a couple of getaway cars waiting or something similar. Multiple targets, it'd be easy for him to miss the right one until it was too late.

That would require actual skill and planning and genuine forethought, though, which are very clearly not things this crew has bothered with either developing in themselves or outsourcing to someone competent.

Tim is going to be so fucking embarrassed if he dies to a low-level Metropolis criminal's craptastic trigger discipline. At least the Joker got Jason. There was a plan and actual malicious intent there, and also intentional targeting of specifically him. Tim has apparently just been tagged as "person who looks easiest to hold hostage", which he guesses he could take as a good sign for his acting abilities but honestly is more likely just this guy being a fucking dumbass with less brains than a mummified limpet.

God, imagine what his classmates would put in the yearbook if he died on a Metropolis field trip, too. Actually, no, never mind, he doesn't even want to think about it. Too fucking mortifying a possibility.

The thief drags Tim closer to suitable "tripping" territory, Tim debates how hard he can elbow him and still claim it was accidental, and somebody says, "Are you fucking serious, man?"

Somebody, specifically, is Kon. He's standing in the middle of the hole in the wall in the full leather jacket and S-shield combo, hands on his hips and expression exasperated. Tim has a weird, irrational moment of thinking he actually recognizes him and wants to know how he fucked up this bad, but Kon's eyeing the thieves, not him.

"You know I'm gonna get blamed for this, right," Kon says, gesturing meaningfully at the smashed-in wall. "I always get blamed for the property damage."

"Back off or I'll shoot!" the thief holding Tim yells, jamming the barrel of his gun annoyingly hard into his temple.

"Does 'faster than a speeding bullet' mean nothing to you people?" Kon asks, tilting his head just enough to make it obvious that he's rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Superman is faster than a speeding bullet," another thief snaps. "Not you, you shitty little poser."

"I mean, you could try testing me and then get attempted murder on your crime bingo cards for absolutely zero reason," Kon suggests conversationally, smirking in amusement. "Security cameras still running in here?"

Tim guesses he's saved, technically, but this definitely means he can never tell Young Justice his secret identity, because if Kon recognizes him he will never, ever let him live this down.

Also, everybody at school is going to give him so much shit for getting saved by a Super.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

[papakhan]

You mentioned toys what else do you think the Khans would make for toys for kids and up bc it’s very interesting

Oooh I think Khan kids get a lot of hand made toys like straw stuffed dolls and carved wooden or clay or bone animals that get gifted to them when they're born. I think it's a general opinion amoung Khans to pass on things you don't use anymore so a lot of toys have really been through the wringer. Think like a little kid who absolutely adores their headless armless stuffed toy lol

I think they also have "toy" versions of cooking equipment that are actually sharp enough to cut fruit and vegetables, just so they can be taught how to handle knives at a young age (under direct supervision. Most of the time

I think a lot of Khan kids didn't really need toys past a certain age and just kinda played with sticks and rocks and wrestling with eachother. Like idk age 10 and they're like Catching bugs and using rouge pieces of sheet metal to sled down hills. They probably get stuff like leather balls to kick around and airsoft guns to shoot at animal skulls and drums and stuff. They probably get taught to do more practical stuff around this age like ride horses and idk help with little chores and ""safe"" raids which is actually just like salvaging scrap yards and stuff

I think the concept of "childhood" is fairly new to the Khans and kind of novel to some of them, so each generation they're getting slightly better at just letting kids be kids. In the fallout bible section by Scott uhhh I can't remember his surname but he basically said that in the og Khans as soon as kids were old enough to hold a gun they were brought out on raids. Obvs by the Great Khans they don't do that anymore but I think there's at least a vocal minority of Khans who think they Should go back to the old ways ie Bitter Roots dad, but I think kids in the modern Great Khans enjoy a surprising amount of protection rights (which is why bitter roots dad took him out to shoot at the NCR in secret)

I think I mentioned how some of the first Great Khan kids kind of grew up too fast because the Khans struggled and needed hands on deck basically and kids like Chance felt they were being burdensome by just playing around. Even a couple of generations later with Sun they still haven't quite figured out what kids should and should not be doing and seeing, but Sun got it slightly worse because he watched his dad execute people and do wack raider leader stuff. By new vegas I imagine they've backslid a lil judging by how Jerry and Bitter Root feel yknow

#I think about childhood in the Khans a lot thank you for letting me ramble #Txt

[harunayuuka2060]

Barbatos: Young master, your father is going to visit.

Diavolo: Really?

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: Why?

Barbatos: Isn't he still pursuing MC?

Diavolo: Oh, right. *frowns* But he should've known that he had already lost his chance when he left me alone to do his responsibilities.

Barbatos: I thought you would at least favor for them to be together.

Diavolo: When I was younger, yes. But now that I'm an adult, I see MC more as my sole parent.

Barbatos: I see.

MC: It seems that your father finally decided to come out of his hiding place.

Diavolo: MC! Are you done baking? *goes to approach them and walk by their side*

MC: Yes. I made sure to make all your favorite flavors.

Diavolo: *chuckles* *whispers* But don't give any to dad when he comes.

MC: *smiles* Of course. And I'm not planning to.

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

Eundae: You haven't changed. You are still as beautiful when I first saw you. *kisses MC's hand as a form of greeting*

Diavolo: Ew... *the look of disgust*

Barbatos: Young master, that is quite rude.

Eundae: *frowns*

MC: It's been a while too, Your Highness. *smiles at him*

Eundae: Yes. We're going to have a lot of catching up to do.

MC: We can talk about everything. Except the possiblity of marriage.

Eundae: *sigh* I haven't even started yet.

MC: It's better that we're clear. *turns their head at Diavolo* Dia, we'll just take a walk for a moment.

Diavolo: Okay. I'm not worried.

Eundae: *frowns again*

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

Eundae: I hope that you will stay permanently in Devildom this time instead of going to some different places.

MC: You've told me to explore.

Eundae: Hmph. Well, it does seem that you no longer sad anymore. I'm glad to see such an improvement.

MC: *chuckles* I told you that it was nothing to be worried about.

Eundae: ...

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

MC: *would cry secretly after they had put Diavolo to sleep*

Eundae: MC.

MC: ...

MC: *wipes out their tears* *takes a few seconds before facing him* *smiles*

MC: What is it, Your Highness?

Eundae: *sits on the side of their bed* I should be the one asking you. Why were you crying?

MC: It was just a sudden wave of emotion.

Eundae: Enough to make you suffer? How impressive.

MC: *chuckles* Do you think I was making excuses, Your Highness?

Eundae: No. You first arrived here in Devildom only remembering your name and nothing else. So no, I wouldn't dare to say that.

MC: ...

MC: *goes to sit on their bed* *a bit of a distance from him*

MC: There was just this feeling of losing something I couldn't comprehend.

Eundae: Hm. Yes. I seem to understand that.

MC: *smiles softly* *knowing that he's talking about his wife*

MC: Do you know, Your Highness? Dia made a pot of clay with your face on it.

Eundae: That stupid face was supposed to be me?

MC: *chuckles* I honestly thought he did a great job in drawing your face.

Eundae: *sigh* I'm leaving. You're just making fun of me now. Go to sleep and good night.

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

Mammon and Levi: *came to visit the Demon Lord's Castle*

Mammon: I swear, if you didn't keep your word—

Levi: I swear. I'm only here to greet your parental figure and nothing else— Wait. Isn't that them with the Demon Lord?

Mammon: Where?

*sees MC walk side-by-side with Eundae and seems to be having a good chat*

Mammon: *feels his heart heavy for some reason*

Mammon: Hey, let's go.

Levi: Huh? But we just got here?

Mammon: Don't you see? They're talking with the Demon King.

Levi: But we can just— hey!

Mammon: *dragging him*

MC: *spotted them, confused why they're leaving*

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me barbatos #obey me eundae #obey me levi #parted ways

[answrs]

okay but now I'm thinking about setting up young submas drilbur as a stim/support pokemon I touched on in the fur post.

especially if you have Uncle/Dad Drayden raising the twins, visiting Clay to catch up one day. they get to meet his team as he shows them around the kid(relatively)-safe areas of the tunnels. Ingo especially takes a liking to his ace, and pesters(affectionate) Clay constantly about him especially out of the rapid-fire interrogation the two are excitedly giving him about his team.

(not important to figure out what caused the meltdown imo, emmet probably left with Drayden for something and a loud noise from the drilling equipment fired right next to him or whatever. or ingo got distracted and wandered down the wrong tunnel and got lost? idfk. dealer's choice or whatever movinG ON.)

Excadrill is reasonably standoffish - not because it doesn't like this kid, but he's only ever been around teenagers challenging the gym circuit on their pokemon journey. what is it supposed to do with a melting down six year old? it hasn't been trained for this! D:

well, at least it's uncertain freezing in front of the lil tyke seems to have worked, since the kid's now curled into it's space, fingers rhythmically running through the velvet-soft fur on its back. Drayden rounds the bend a little later, emmet in tow, and is shocked that ingo is so much calmer than expected, profusely thanks the confused 'mon for helping the boy so much.

anyway, while logically in-universe it would make more sense to take longer (a month at least), I love the mental image that excadrill wanders off once the boys are back at the house and just comes waddling back into the living room a few hours later and just. plops an egg in Ingo's face as they're getting ready to leave.

(it can't go with the kid, obviously, Clay is already His Human. but it knows through the grapevine there's a very fine ditto down the road that might offer a solution to that, lmao. also bonus, this is why the lil drilbur has such nice stats. those are some very strong genes! ;p)

(I think in this verse while they both eventually use Excadrill on the subway, Drilbur is Ingo's pokemon first and foremost. emmet appreciates it, especially so for how it helps his brother, but finds the scratchy static fur of his joltik army a much better texture for him in comparison.)

#sbms #subway boss ingo #pokemon ingo #excadrill #pokemon #*throws this at you and runs* #subway bosses #subway master ingo #submas #Ingo

[sameteeth]

kiSing 2 movie thoughts!!! finally got around to watching it on netflix and immediately got to Thinking. thank u chase matoitech for wanting to hear my thoughts lol

readmore bc it’s probably gnna be long, am gnna try to chunk it out into paragraphs for ease of reading

i was honestly surprised they went with a sequel! the first movie wrapped up pretty damn well and i think it’s more indicative of the movie industry’s need for more profit that they made a second one.

buster always kinda annoyed me - he’s not someone i would like to be around, he’s pushy and always endangers other people for his own reasons. he takes suki’s dislike of them to be a very personal thing, and while i think what they did in the end was cool, i also think it was buster’s need to prove suki wrong and make himself even more well known than he already was.

i do like that he and nana settle into an amicable relationship tho!! she was always one of my fav designs and her outfits r always so cool

they don’t bring back eddie or mike, which i wasn’t surprised about for mike but i figured eddie would at least show up once or twice??

the meat of the movie is in the prep and final execution of the show ofc, and they pepper in PLENTY of conflict, side characters, and tension to keep things interesting. buster has conflict with jimmy crystal, suki, rosita, clay calloway, even johnny tbh!! not to mention other characters. ill mainly stick to the actual singers, bc i prefer those characters

not a super big fan of johnny having a cockney accent + dad being a criminal + unable to dance “properly” but idk. that fucking monkey was a bitch tho i hated him. klaus kicknklober or whatever. him meeting nooshy (???) and being able to actually learn to dance how he wanted to was cool, bc unlike rosita and gunter, johnny doesn’t dance/learn to dance in the first movie, so the continuity was a nice touch. i also liked that they just let nooshy and johnny be buds and didn’t try to force a romance or something stupid like that. however that might be a weird kid’s movie species thing where they only match up pairs of animals that are the same species.

also. the tiger johnny had to do the fight dance scene with ? totally into him.

rosita being a hard working mother and also having a career and having her main role taken by porsha was a shit move on buster’s part. like i get that he had to appease jimmy crystal but like jesus. way to spit in rosita’s face. esp dressing her in the GREEN costume and having porsha “defeat” her, like damn. that was HARSH. esp since buster wrote that role into the play (performance?) JUST FOR ROSITA. like damn. and her crying in the hotel bathroom and having to ask her husband for space made me sad. she’s just trying to keep everything afloat :( i did like that although rosita was upset she wasn’t ever petty to porsha, though i dont think they interacted enough for it to even be possible.

SPEAKING OF PORSHA. dude she definitely has daddy issues. they barely brush on it but the way he treats her is so bad, it’s not like the typical dad who dotes on and infantilizes daughter regardless of how much she cries, jimmy crystal got sick of shit REAL quick with her as soon as it interfered with his image and immediately dropped her. like yeah obviously stupid spoiled teenager but also she is a kid. idk if they have canon ages beyond teenager and adult tbh. i wish they had fleshed out her and her dads relationship a bit more too - obviously theres teenage rebellion there and jimmy crystal has clear issues with “being humiliated“ and all that and he’s so concerned w that he throws his daughter under the bus. also what happened to her mom?????

meena having to deal with that yak made me pissed off too, buster clearly STILL doesn’t know what kind of person meena is and who she would be comfortable singing with, but i guess they wrote out the kiss so that makes it better. i like that alfonso is like smooth with the moves and meena runs into the glass door with the ice cream. and that the orangutang coworker of alfonso’s is clearly rooting for them (watched meena get ice cream 4 times trying to talk to him and nudges alfonso to talk to her during the show) i did like that her romance wasn’t super in ur face and her challenge wasn’t stage fright again but this time just a teenager problem. i feel like porsha and meena couldve had a moment together where they meet in the middle and learn something from the other (confidence and maturity for meena and porsha respectively)

ms crawley was an absolute champ in this movie i love her so much. queen of getting shit done and also her visor is so cute ^_^ i felt so bad when she got paintballed. she also has great music taste

ASH AND CALLOWAY BOTHERED ME SO MUCH !!!!!!!!!!!!! ash being a solo artist was awesome and totally in character and even her being a calloway fan makes sense kinda ? but there was no moment in the movie where i felt like they had a genuine connection or moment of realization. ash just bugged him when he was very literally setting a boundary (electric fence ??? paintballs ??? firecrackres???? ALL THE SIGNS ????) and pushed him to perform again bc buster made an empty promise he had to badger some old man into agreeing to to fulfill. yeah ash plays him a song but like. her knowing his wife died and was his muse didn’t feel very emotional or give her a leg up over anyone else who knew who he was. she just was there and then calloway changed his mind. i also didnt understand the tea scene, whether or not there was significance to that or not. if i were to flesh out their characters more i would build a father daughter relationship between them tho, i feel like that would be cool. but it just felt like ash was forcing calloway to deal with things just so they could use his name for something instead of actually wanting to play w him for musical reasons. he didnt do anything particularly special in the performance except show up. idk he looked cool tho but i felt like they forgot to animate his tail ?? or it was placed weird on his back? i liked the white mane tho

they also just fucking fridged his wife which is bullshit. it makes sense story wise but also they could have easily made it something else. and then bc we aren’t given much mroe detail than “she was his muse she died of an illness (unidentified but we know it was bad bc she was in a wheelchair)” we have no way of connected with his story or empathizing with him about her death. it’s literally just “she died :(”. just seems like a cop out and a sexist one at that. then when she comes back spiritually so he can overcome his grief and perform it felt so hollow and contrived, there was nothing really emotionally charged about that scene. idk it just was lame.

also. for a kids movie i was surprised they showed buster almost getting killed and made that as explicit as they did ????? like damn.

johnny being able to call his dad and their ex-gang (just 2 other guys rlly) as protection was kinda cute tho, im glad their relationship got all worked out and stuff.

klaus literally trying to humiliate johnny in front of the entire crowd was a little scary too. i wasnt expecting such an in-your-face confrontation like that, but i like that it gave johnny a chance to freestyle and that the other dancers recognized that the teacher was being unfair to johnny and joined in with nooshy’s drumming. sky full of stars is also just a great song, i rlly love it!!

overall, an ok movie. i think they had wayyy too much going on to give each story the time it needed to reach their full potential, but the songs were good and i had fun watching it! which is rlly all that matters i guess. just wish they could spend mroe time fleshing out characters and stuff but when your cast gets that big your story becomes very plot driven very quickly and you stop being able to give everyone a fair chance on character development and stuff.

#sing 2 #canis writes meta #thanks for asking abt this fess i had fun writing it all out #probably will add more stuff as i think of it tbh #canis speaks

[lyricalporcupine]

Talking about how much they love the other to friends/family pls 😊

Here ya go! I did both Yasha and Beau and there is a time skip. I also got carried away with Beau’s part so oops lmao

~~~

“You’re such a fucking sap,” Molly cajoled.

Yasha smirked and shoved her friend, causing him to stumble a bit on the street. He laughed as he regained his balance and turned around to face Yasha, walking backwards without regard to the other people.

“It’s true, darling,” he drawled with his own smirk.

Yasha felt herself flush and knew her face was red to the tips of her pointed ears. “She makes me happy,” Yasha said simply with a shrug and soft smile.

“Ugh,” Molly exclaimed, turning with a flourish that allowed Yasha close the small distance between them to allow them to walk side by side again. “Why?”

Yasha’s soft smile grew. “She’s strong. She’s really funny. She’s smart as hell. She’s honest,” Yasha said with a chuckle, “even if it hurts.”

“She’s an asshole,” Molly countered, to which Yasha laughed.

“I like that she’s an asshole,” Yasha said with a shrug.

Molly smirked at her. “You would.”

Yasha bumped his shoulder and he bumped hers in return.

“Anything else,” Molly asked after a few moments. “What else attracts you to the grumpy one?”

Yasha was silent for a while, hands shoved into her coat pockets. She was quiet for so long that Molly figured she wasn’t going to answer. But then, softly, Yasha said, “She makes me feel safe.”

Molly stared up at his friend. He knew exactly what that meant for her and how important it was. He finally realized that, to Yasha, Beau meant something so precious to her. Something Yasha had been looking for for years that Molly himself had tried to give her. Beau, to Yasha, meant home.

He huffed, his breath drifting up in front of him as steam in the cold air. He linked his arm through Yasha’s and pushed into her side. “You love her.” It wasn’t a question.

Yasha gave a small nod. “So much.”

Molly heaved a dramatic sigh. “Does this mean I can’t tease her anymore,” he asked with a pout.

Yasha chuffed. “She’d probably think you were sick if you didn’t bicker.”

“Well I am all about keeping up appearances,” he said with a self important sniffle.

Yasha laughed outright. “You’re an asshole,”’she said with all the affection she could muster for the tiefling. Which was quite a lot.

“Yes, I am,” he agreed happily. Then he smiled up at her. “But you like assholes. Remember?”

Yasha smirked down at him before kissing him on his horn. “Yes, I do.”

~~~~~~

It was a rare event that Beau visited her parents. She hated doing it, mostly because of her father. But she went, at least once a month, just to see TJ. Beau’s disdain for her parents wasn’t his fault and Beau hoped, that by spending time with him that he wouldn’t pick up their shitty attitude. As the years trudged on, TJ, thankfully, didn’t seem to be anything like their father.

Instead, much to their parents’ chagrin, TJ had instead picked up his sister’s mannerisms, quick wit, and snark. And as a pre-teen, it was only getting worse. Or better, if you asked Beau, who encouraged him.

Despite this, their parents would allow TJ to visit his sister for a week or so, mainly during the summer while school was out. He’d pack a bag and all but run to her car when she showed up and throw himself at her.

Now they sat on the floor of Beau and Yasha’s living room, playing a racing game TJ brought with him. They were neck and neck, tied in their wins. This was the last race and as

Beau was poised for a victory, Yasha walked out of the bedroom and kissed the top of Beau’s head, which caused her to completely forget the game and crash into a wall as she turned her attention to her fiancé.

“I’m meeting Molly,” she said as she checked her purse. Yasha wore a sun dress, something she didn’t often wear, and turned to smile at Beau and TJ when he turned to look at her after crossing the finish line. “I’ll be back later. I was thinking burgers for dinner?”

TJ’s face lit up. “And milkshakes,” he asked hopefully.

Yasha smiled and walked over to ruffle his slightly curly and very shaggy hair. “Only if you let Beau win,” Yasha teased.

“Oh, nevermind then,” he said and turned back to the tv.

“You little asshole,” Beau said with a laugh.

“Beau!”

“What,” Beau asked defensively. “He knows I’m kidding!”

“I know she’s kidding,” TJ echoed.

Yasha sighed and bent to kiss Beau. “Behave,” she said as she headed for the door.

An echo of “No!” followed her out the door.

Beau and TJ smiled at each other as he picked a new game and Beau set her controller aside, content to watch him play.

“Dad says you’re engaged,” TJ said as he got up and shuffled through his games. He looked over at Beau as she relocated to the couch.

“Yuppers,” she replied. “I was gonna talk to you about that, actually.” She smiled at him and asked, “Want to be a ring bearer?”

“I can’t be your best man,” he asked with a grin.

Beau laughed and raised up her arm, flattening her hand, palm down. “Sorry, you gotta be be at least this tall.”

He glared and flipped her off. She only laughed harder which caused him to smile. “Sure, I can be a ring bearer.”

“Excellent,” Beau said. “Yasha will be thrilled I finally asked.”

“When’s the wedding,” he asked as he finished picking a game and came to sit beside his sister, picking up his controller on the way.

“Next fall,” Beau answered. “Yasha likes the colors.”

“Neat,” TJ replied. “You and Yasha have been together a long time.”

Beau chuckled. “You sound like my friends. They think it’s overdue.”

TJ shrugged. “Maybe they’re right.”

Beau shrugged back. “Eh, we got there in the end. All that matters.”

“You inviting Dad,” TJ asked.

“Well if you and Mom are gonna be there, kinda have to invite the old man, too,” Beau said.

“I could accidentally on purpose break his leg so he has to stay home,” TJ offered.

Beau laughed. “Then you and Mom would have to stay home and take care of him.” She gave him a sideways smile. “Thanks for the offer, though, little brother.”

“Anytime,” he said with a laugh. “So, who asked who?”

Beau smiled and flashed her left hand and waggled her fingers until TJ turned to look at the small blue diamond on her ring finger. “She did.”

TJ looked at the ring then up at is sister. “She has poor taste.”

Beau’s mood fell a bit. “Like you’re some ring expert.”

“Not the ring,” he said. “You.”

Beau made a squawking noise and shoved TJ’s shoulder. “Fuck you!”

He laughed as he fell onto his side. “Fuck you, back!” He never paused in his game.

TJ eventually sat back and smiled. “So,how did you know?”

“How did I know what,” Beau asked.

“How did you know she was ‘the one,’” he asked, laying his controller down to air quote.

Beau smirked. “Really want to know? It’s sappy shit.”

TJ shrugged. “I mean. I did ask.”

“Fair.” Beau repositioned herself and draped her leg over the couch arm. “I always thought she was hot, ya know?”

“She is very pretty,” TJ cut in.

Beau smirked. “I’ll be sure to tell her you said that.”

TJ whipped around to face Beau, his dark skin turning darker with a blush. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Beau laughed and gently nudged him. “Don’t be a shit and maybe I won’t.” TJ pouted at her and Beau laughed harder. “Anyway. She’s always been hot. And she’s sweet as hell. A literal fucking angel, ya know?”

TJ was nodded like he did, in fact, know.

“But there was a moment, so fucking small, that sealed the deal,” Beau said with a dreamy sigh.

“What was it,” TJ asked, finally pausing his game and turned to Beau, wholly focused on her and the story now.

“We’d been dating for a few months,” Beau continued. “And while out doing some errands, we decided, on a whim, to stop at this antiques store. Nothing there caught my eye,” Beau said before quickly standing and heading over to a bookshelf next to the tv. It held books, of course, but also a few knick knacks. Beau reached for a small clay figurine of a dog, one of a set of five, and turned back to TJ.

“She bought this set of dog figures,” Beau said, a dopey grin on her face. “She had been so excited to have found them. As excited as if they’d been real dogs.” Still holding the figure, Beau walked back over to the couch and sat down and handed the dog to TJ to look at. “You don’t really remember, cause you were still pretty little, but Yasha used to be really standoffish. She was quiet and didn’t talk much.” Beau smiled at her brother. “You fell in love with her immediately, nearly forgetting all about me when we came to visit.”

TJ blushed at Beau’s words.

Beau smiled warmly at him. “That was one of the first times she really came out of her shell.” Beau’s eyes slid shut as she recalled the memory, a large grin on her face. “She was so beautiful in that moment.” Beau’s eyes opened but she didn’t seem to really see TJ in front of her, still lost in her memories. Then she blinked and her eyes focused. “It was one of the cutest fucking things I’d ever seen. The way she lit up, little brother. Brighter than the sun.

“That’s when I knew I would spend the rest of my life with her.”

She smiled at her brother, who simply stared back. He finally handed back the clay dog and nodded. “You were right.”

Beau took the figure and cradled it to her chest. “About what?”

“It really was sappy shit.” Then he smiled at her.

Beau launched from her spot and tackled him, lightly pinching his shoulder as she sat on him.

They eventually came apart, laughing and sweaty from their tussle. Beau put the figure back on the shelf, grateful it didn’t break, and sat back on the couch. TJ went back to his game and they were content in their silence.

Finally TJ said, “I’m really happy you have Yasha. And I’m happy she has you, too.”

Bea smiled and ruffled TJ’s hair. “And I’m happy you’re here, too. We both love you.”

“Ugh,” TJ groaned. “Stop.”

Beau laughed and turned back towards the tv, happy with how her life had shaped up to be.

#beauyasha #lyricalporcupine #yasha nydoorin #beauregard lionett #porcupine writes #beauyasha fanfiction #tj lionett #mollymauk tealeaf

[witching-hour]

Mother [Jax Teller x Reader]

REQUESTED BY @talicat713 Hi love can I request a story with Jax Teller? Maybe the reader is hired to take care of Abel after he is born and Jax is slowly falling in love with her. Maybe she gets really upset when he get kidnapped and starts blaming herself.

(A/N): thanks for the request! sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy <3

SUMMARY: when the reader gets caught in the crossfire with baby abel and half-sac, and gets kidnapped, the reader only blames herself, but jax assures her otherwise

TW: usual sons of anarchy violence, blood, death, guns, kidnapping

“P-P-Please...”

“A son for a son....it’s perfect.”

“Please, he’s just a baby.”

“Take me instead.”

“ABEL!”

You jumped awake as the memory as clear as day plagued your dreams once again. It’s been a week since the blonde haired, blue eyed baby boy you’ve grown to love and cherish as your own was taken from his own home under your care. The club was on lock down when shit hit the fan, first it was Gemma’s desire to seek retribution for her attack, leaving you to drive home with Abel in the backseat. Then it was the tragic death of the prospect who swore and died to protect you and the baby boy. And finally it was your failed attempt to save him before getting knocked out, only to wake up to Jax hovering over you in panic, with Chibs and Opie standing behind him.

“(Y/N/N)!” Jax yelled, shooting into the house with two of his brothers coming up from behind him. “(Y/N)!”

He ran into the kitchen, his white Nike’s getting stained in the puddle of blood he stepped into. He looked down at his foot, alarms blaring in his head. He followed the puddle to its source, “Oh shit...”

“Brother?” Opie eyed Jax’s back, coming closer and seeing the body of their prospect, Half-Sac, on the floor by the table. “....Goddammit.”

Jax saw a pair of bloody footprints lead from the puddle to the back patio door, which was broken, with glass shards everywhere. “(Y/N)!”

The three men wearing cuts stepped through the pane-less door seeing your body on the concrete littered in scrapes and scratches from the glass, and a fresh wound at the temple from being hit in the head with the butt of the Irishman’s gun. The VP rushed to your aid, flipping your body onto your back, and inspecting your face for any other injury as he shook you from your unconscious state.

You moaned in discomfort as you felt yourself drifting back to consciousness. Your head was pounding, making you wanna go back to sleep and ignore the pain. Opening your eyes wasn’t an easy task. It felt like you had to pry your eyelids apart as a heavy weight fell on them.

You felt a hand slide under your back, helping you sit up. You groaned out as the blaring alarms in your head only grew louder. You managed to get your eyes open, only to slam them back shut at the blinding light of the sun. “Shit.”

“Ye alright there, Lass?”

Your eyes open once more, this time staying open as you took in your surroundings. You saw the Scotsman and your favorite beanie wearing patch standing by the broken patio door.

You were outside.

Your hand moved against the concrete, letting out a hiss when you scraped it up some more on the broken glass under you. Jax, who you saw was knelled down next to you, laid his hands on your waist and guided you to stand back up. Looking around so vigorously, trying to piece together why the hell you were even in the backyard of Jax’s house, bruised and bloody, when you were supposed to be on lock down at the clubhouse. Jax tried to coax you to say something but your mind was racing a mile a minute.

Bits and pieces were coming to you at a time; Gemma kissing your cheek, walking in Jax’s kitchen with Abel in his carrier, Half-Sac on the floor gripping his stomach, your screaming and pleas, talking down the Irishman with a gun, you being thrown through plate glass during your tussle with the Irishman, and Abel wailing.

“Abel.” Your eyes wide, head spinning around to meet the other three pairs staring at you, “He took Abel!”

“Who? Who took Abel?!” Jax demanded.

“The Irishman. The one Tara patched up.” Your words were so swift you didn’t even know if you said them correctly.

You told the Sons you would call an ambulance and not worry, and to just find the precious boy you failed to defend. They shot out of the house in search of the baby, but came back emptied handed. The Irishman got on a boat at the docks and stolen Abel before any of SAMCRO could get their hands on him. And it was all your fault.

You could’ve done more. Maybe tried a different approach that would’ve taken down the guard of the unhinged and grieving man who kept going on about loosing his son. Maybe if you’d hit sooner or waited a bit longer before grabbing the gun. Maybe you missed a window of opportunity to grab Abel and make a run for it. The scenarios played through your head relentlessly. Every move you made was different, but only one thing remained the same: it was your fault.

You missed the sweet boy you cared for everyday. But you didn’t deserve to miss him. You were the one who lost him in the first place.

Or at least that’s what you told yourself.

While you battled the demons screaming in your head, Jax was battling his own on the floor of his son’s nursery drowning in booze, cigarettes, and weed. And it was your fault.

You had grown up with the club, with your dad as a mechanic at TM, and your brother as a member of SAMCRO, you’d grown accustomed to the lifestyle. But you weren’t an Old Lady or member since it was “boy’s club.” You didn’t have any responsibilities besides paying rent and bar tending in the Clubhouse or helping Gemma in the office. So when Wendy was shipped off to rehab, and Tara skipped town back to Chicago, Abel was left with no mother figure or caretaker for when his father had “work.”

You barely did much in the office at TM since Gemma had a system and didn’t want you messing with it, as much as she appreciated the help. The bar tending was mostly nights, only ever making tips here and there when the guys thanked you for serving them after church, or when they threw a party. Not that you desperately needed the money, but you needed a hobby—something to keep you busy during the day and nights where you weren’t working at the parties. So you offered Jax a position he desperately needed: a nanny.

Jax and Ope were closer to your age and were patched brothers with your blood related one, so, naturally, you all grew up together wreaking havoc all over Charming. Jax and Ope both trusted you, especially when it came down to their kids, and you babysat for Donna and Ope when they needed a night to themselves. Jax didn’t wanna way the burden down on you, but agreed after your convincing argument.

You took on the role as Abel’s guardian when Jax wasn’t around, Gemma even dared to call you his mother once. It shocked you when she did, almost like she hand-picked you to be the mother of her grandson, but you couldn’t be entirely surprised considering the woman played a part in raising you. Of course she approved. She didn’t mention it again, but you knew every time he was in your arms that’s what she thought.

Your job was to care for him. Protect him. And you couldn’t even do that.

You knew Jax blamed you. You knew if Gemma knew she would definitely blamed you, and was most likely planning your murder to look like a suicide. The Club tried to check in on you, but you rarely opened the door. Why would they come to check in on someone that lost their VP’s only son?

Missed calls, voicemails, and unanswered messages had filled up your notifications on your phone. All from your brother and your family of SAMCRO. You couldn’t bare to talk to them. Hell, even look at them without the guilt crushing down on you. You would wake up in the morning and the guilt would appear out of thin air.

After your recollection of the day Abel got kidnapped, you knew you weren’t gonna be able to back to sleep. It was still morning, seven to be exact, and you managed to pull yourself out of bed. You’d gotten dressed after your shower, and made yourself some coffee to start the day.

You haven’t seen or heard from Jax since he showed up at the house with the club, but without Abel. He had passed Hale and his officers with the CSU for Eddie’s body, and locked himself in the nursery. Not once did he come out, leaving the club and yourself to vacate the area to let the father grieve.

It’s been a week, and you knew you needed to visit him. Whether he wanted to see you or not. You grabbed you keys off the counter which had a spare key to Jax’s house, slipped on your shoes by the front door, and rushed out to your car.

You pulled up to the house that only screamed the horrors that’d taken place. You saw the cavalry of bikes lines up in the driveway and on the grass and sidewalk. Sighing, you parked your car in front of the house, leaving room for the bikes when the guys pulled out.

You took hesitant steps up to the porch, reeling over how this confrontation could go with either anyone in the club or the father whose child you lost. Your hand raised up to knock, even though formalities weren’t necessary, but the door swung open before you could and Clay stood behind it.

“You know better then to knock, sweetheart,” He smiled, moving out of the doorway, and inviting you inside.

Swallowing thickly, you forced a smile back and stepped inside the threshold. You suppressed the urge to cry when your eyes landed on the kitchen. A big red stain remained from the attack--from when Eddie was killed. And when Abel was taken.

“Come on,” Clay guided you away and out of the hallway, keeping the kitchen out of your sight, “you don’t need to be looking at that.”

Your brother, Opie, and Chibs emerged from the hallway where the bedrooms and bathroom were. You heard the shower on and saw the wet spots on Opie’s leather jacket and kutte from when he set Jax in the shower to sober him up.

“How is he?” You manged to ask without getting choked up.

“As expected.” Opie answered.

“From what we can tell, he’s been like this since it happened. Cigarette butts and clips everywhere...empty bottles of Jack.” Your brother listed, sympathy for his brother coating his features, as did everyone else in the room. The guilt was noticeable on your face, which made your brother shake his head. “It’s not your fault, you know.” 

“Yeah...yeah, it is.” You didn’t give him or anyone else a chance to argue as you backtracked into the kitchen. You paused, staring down the blood stain, then catching sight of the broken patio door that now had a piece of plywood boarded up. Blinking away any thoughts, you moved to the sink and bent down to the cabinet, and grabbed a garbage bag.

You ignored the looks shared behind your back and the stares burning holes into your skull as you headed to the nursery to clean up the mess Jax made from his grief.

As you tied the garbage back closed, you heard someone walk into the room.

“You didn’t have to clean up.” Jax said leaning against the white dresser, watching as you avoided his gaze and fidget with your hands—a tick he picked up on when you were feeling nervous or guilty. He could sense both coming off of you.

“I wanted to.”

“Haven’t seen you.”

“Could say the same.”

You were being short with him. You knew that he noticed. He knew that you knew that he noticed. But you didn’t know how to react with him.

You’d lost his kid. Shouldn’t he be screaming at you right now? Kicking you out of his house?

“They have a lead on Abel,” he told you, making your eyes widen and actually look at him. “I don’t know what it is yet. They’re gonna show me at the Clubhouse. Just thought you deserved to know.”

You scoffed at that. “I didn’t. I don’t.”

“Babe-” He tried to coax you with a nickname only he called you, knowing that you probably blamed yourself for what down. But in his head it wasn’t your fault. It was his. He was Abel’s father, and should’ve known the club life was going to catch up to his family. He shouldn’t have been so naive to believe that he could have both.

After finding his father’s manuscript, he started to see the bigger picture when it came to the club. And his family when it intertwined. Even though the manuscript opened up his eyes, it pissed him off. How could his father write about something like that and then not do a thing to change it? Now he felt like that burden now rested on his shoulders. His father believed he could’ve been the one to save SAMCRO. And he didn’t.

“How can you call me that? How can you even look at me right now?!” Your vision clouded as anger coursed through you. Angry at the man who should’ve been livid with you for failing the one job he trusted you with. “Scream, yell, push me. Do something!”

“I’d never lay my hands on you, (Y/N).” He said in the most serious tone you’ve heard out of his mouth. “I’m not gonna scream at you, or yell.”

“Why not? Why aren’t you pissed? Why?”

“I could ask the same, babe.” He threw back at you, waving his hands at you. He was getting agitated with the fact you weren’t gonna drop it. 

He loved you, and it broke his heart to see you this way. You guys had crossed the boundary line of friendship when you took on the role as Abel’s guardian.(Or at least he did). And as much as no one but Gemma had stated out loud, you stepped in as Abel’s mother. That’s when he fell. Seeing how you acted with Abel, treating him as your own, and that the little boy had seemingly picked you as his mother with the way he acted over you. He my have been just a baby, but Jax had picked up on it. When he would get up in the morning for Abel, the child was of course gleeful to see his daddy, but he looked for you. Jax knew because it was the same look he had on his face when he wanted you, and then once you would step in the room Abel would be jumping for you. The kid once screamed bloody murder in the middle of the Clubhouse when you handed him off to Tig to use the bathroom, once you got back he was placed back in your arm and calmed down. He was definitely a mama’s boy--your boy. 

In a way you did see Abel as your own, but you and Jax weren’t together, and you were just the nanny. Yes, you were family, but regarding Abel you could have passed as his Aunt (Y/N/N). Certainly not his mom. You didn’t want to overstep.

“Why do you want me to yell? Hmm? Why do you want me scream?”

“Maybe, Jackson, because I’m here and he’s not.” You crooked your pointer finger at yourself, pronouncing each word carefully, trying to make him understand it was your fault. Why didn’t he blame you? He did, didn’t he? “I had one job. One fucking job.” For someone who didn’t curse often, it would have come off as a shock, but him seeing you in the distraught state you were in, he anticipated for the unexpected. “Take care of Abel; feed him, change him, protect him. And I couldn’t even do that.” You were shaking your head at yourself; disappointed, ashamed, and angry. “Maybe I want you to be pissed because I lost your goddamn son! You should be yelling! You should be screaming! You should be off your damn rockers right now!” You threw you hands up in exasperation. “Just at the sight of me! You trusted me with his life and I betrayed that trust!” Stepping closer to the blonde, you shoved him in his hard chest, “Come on!” You shoved him again when he made no effort to move. “Come on!” 

You continued to shove him again and again, yet he did nothing but take it. You were only wearing out your energy. Your hits became less forceful as the anger diminished and was gradually replaced with the sorrow you felt for the missing baby you were once responsible for. Thinking about where he could be, who he was with, if he was being fed or had been changed, made your heart grow stiff and heavy. What if he was cold? Or was he overheated? 

Once the tears started falling, they didn’t stop. The silent trail of tears turned into ragged breathing attached to the meltdown you were coming down from. Small sobs crawled up your throat, you attempting and failing at suppressing them. You couldn’t pinpoint when the biker pulled you into his strong arms, but he did. He cradled your head with his hand as you sobbed into his chest, letting his fingers fun through your hair soothingly. 

He managed to keep his own tears at bay, only letting one slip. Between the hole in his heart from Abel’s kidnapping and the tear you were creating from your breakdown, one bypassed the barrier and slowly ran down the tanned skin of his cheek.

When you heart rate fell back down and your breathing became even, you lifted your face from the wet spot you created on his navy blue SAMCRO shirt. “Mm sorry,” you mumbled tiredly. 

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe at your face of the tears that remained.

You fell into a silence as he cleaned your face, the deep concern and empathy written on his face. When he was done, you wiped at the drying stain of the one that fell down his own, and you asked softy, “You don’t blame me?”

“No, I don’t.” He answered. “You did everything you could and ended up getting hurt in the process.” He motioned to the stitches by your temple, they were healing rather quickly and you were able to get them taken out in a couple days. 

“I’m okay. Just a few stitches, Jax.” You brushed off.

“They’re still stitches.” He deadpanned.

“Whatever.” You said dryly, with a roll of your eyes before they met his once again. 

You watched as they flickered down to your lips before back up, as if asking for your permission. You copied his actions, tilting your head up, waiting for him to follow in suit. He slid a hand to the side of your neck, caressing your jaw, and leaning down to press his lips against yours.

His lips were slightly chapped from the dehydration, no doubt. They clashed with your soft ones and it was enough. He was enough. As cliche as is sounded, you could kiss this man forever. He really did live to the many rumors you heard around the Clubhouse from the crow-eaters and sweet-butts. But even they didn’t do him the justice he deserved.The kiss wasn’t aggressive like you imagined kissing him, but it was sweet--passionate, meaningful, and sadly, not as long as you would wanted. But it was enough.

He pulled away, leaving you both breathless and craving for more, but there were more important things at hand. This, whatever this was, would have to wait until Abel was safe and back home where he belonged. You guys would have to resume another time, but you could live with that as long as you got your boy back.

“You did your part. Now I need to do mine.”

You sat at the bar in the clubhouse with Piney, Tig, and Kozik as you patiently waited for the arrival of Jax and others. Jax has called you the night before (around five due to the time difference) that Abel was back where he belonged. The club, Gemma, and Abel were on their way back to Charming first flight this morning on the private jet that belonged to the Oswald's.

Your foot tapped against the bar connecting two legs of the bar stool, nerves obviously taking control, and driving he three men insane.

Tig put his hand on your knee, keeping it from bouncing. “Doll, you need cool it. Take some breaths or somethin’.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, string down into the beer you haven’t touched.

“Hey, it’s okay. He’s safe with his daddy. And they’re gonna walk through that door any minute now.” Piney assured you, messing with the tubing of his oxygen tank, before taking a shot of the whiskey he ordered from the crow-eater, Kelly, behind the bar.

“I know, I know....” you sighed, shifting in your seat. “It’s just...what if he doesn’t remember me?”

Piney reached over for your hand and held it in a firm grasp, but not hurting you. “(Y/N), you took on that boy as your own. A bond between a mother and her child is unbreakable. Biological or not. Family doesn’t end in blood, and it sure as hell don’t start there either. You hear me?”

Your eyes clouded and you patted his hand with your free one. “Yes, sir.”

You felt Kozik, who had gotten from his seat on the opposite side of Tig, rub your back comfortingly.

You all sat there in silence until the sound of bikes rolling into the lot caught the attention of everyone in the Clubhouse. As Tig and Kozik went out to welcome their brothers and Gemma back home, you and Piney stayed seated at the bar. Piney noticed your nerves as soon as the engines were heard. “He’s home. They both are.” 

Nodding slowly at his words, you took a deep breath and reached over for one of his shot glasses that were still full, throwing your head back and allowing the amber liquid to run down your throat into your stomach with a satisfying burn. Once you let it settle and manged to even out your nerves enough, you slammed the small glass back down and made you way out the Clubhouse door.

Gemma was the first one you saw, granted that she was probably on her way to get you. She brought you into a warm and comforting hug. “He’s here, baby, he’s here. He’s okay.” She ran her hand up and down your back as you coughed out a laugh, letting out a sting of genuine ones filled with joy and relief.

Across the lot, Jax was letting the guys who stayed behind to see the baby who had all their hearts on the chopping block. He heard a familiar laugh that always manged to make him smile. His head turned and saw you in Gemma’s arms, a couple tears running down your face as you laughed in relieved joy. Bouncing Abel in his arms, he started striding over to the two women he loved the most.

You looked up, catching the eyes that managed to pierce through you every time he was near. A grin spread across your face, one that you haven’t seen on yourself in a long time. Then your vision zoned in on the bundle in his arms, and the world stopped.

At the sight of the boy you nearly taken on as your own, your eyes filled with tears. A breathless laugh crawled up your throat as your hand came up to cover your mouth in amazement. “Oh, my God.” Gemma rubbed her hand up and down the side of your arm soothingly. He was actually here. Hearing about him was one thing. Seeing him in the flesh was another.

Abel had grown over the weeks of you not seeing him. He’d gotten some meat he needed on his bones, letting you know that he was fed. The lack of bruising and scars (from what you could see) showed that he had not been harmed. He was clean and wearing his baby blue reaper beanie from SAMCRO on his little head.

“Look, son,” Jax spoke in a small voice, “it’s mommy.”

Mommy?

The look on your face made the VP break out in a smile. Abel turned, and at the sight of you he squealed in happiness, little gurgles making their way out of his mouth. You sobbed as the little boy reached one of his hands out to you.

Your feet guided you to the two, using your thumb to rest in the palm of Abel’s hand, and him gripping it for dear life. You couldn’t contain the tears anymore. “Hey, baby. I missed you so much.” Jax adjusted the boy so he could put him in your arms. You sighed in content; finally feeling whole again with Abel in your arms. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jax brought you into his side, wrapping one arm around your waist, and using the other to cradle Abel’s head. Placing a kiss at your temple and one on his son’s forehead, he finally felt peace after all the shit that’s been hitting him. This is what peace felt like; having his family enveloped up in his arms.

He wasn’t planning on letting either of you go anytime soon.

SOA TAG LIST: @cutekittylexie @talicat713 @woahitslucyylu @xx--day-dreamer--xx @sweetpeaflower01 @rebelwrites

#jackson teller #jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #samcrow #soa #soa imagine #soa one shot #jackson teller x reader #sons of anarchy one shot #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy #samcro #soa x reader #jax teller x you

[huayno]

from neon genesis evangelion, vol. 12

The Mysterious Stranger

The Anime, the Manga, and the Mark Twain Novella

"God will provide for this kitten." "What makes you think so?" Ursula's eyes snapped with anger. "Because I know it!" she said. "Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it." "But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

There is a short novel by Mark Twain, written near the end of his life and published posthumously, entitled The Mysterious Stranger. The tale is set in a small village in 16th century Austria, where three boys one day meet a young man different from themselves: "he had new and good clothes on, and was handsome and had a winning face and a pleasant voice, and was easy and graceful and unembarrassed, not slouchy and awkward and diffident, like other boys."

The mysterious stranger starts to do small but amazing tricks for them—causing water to turn to ice; conjuring grapes and bread out of air; even making birds that can fly out of clay. At last one boy, the story's narrator, works up the courage to ask the stranger who he is:

"'An angel,' he said, quite simply, and set another bird free and clapped his hands and made it flyaway."

The angel then proceeds to really impress them by making an entire toy castle, complete with five hundred miniature soldiers and workmen that move around by themselves. Naturally the boys get involved with this ultimate playset, making their own knights and cannon and cavalry, and although they get rather nervous again when the angel reveals his name is Satan, he assures them he is not that Satan, but only named after the fallen one.

"We others are still ignorant of sin; we are not able to commit it; we are without blemish, and we shall abide in that estate always." Distracted by two of the miniature workmen, "Satan reached out his hand and crushed the life out of them with his fingers... and went on talking where he had left off: 'We cannot do wrong; neither have we any disposition to do it, for we do not know what it is." Horrified as the other boys are, "he made us drunk with the joy of being with him and of looking into the heaven of his eyes, and of feeling the ecstasy that thrilled along our veins from the touch of his hand.'"

Yes, Kaworu Nagisa made quite an impression on the fans of Neon Genesis Evange/ion, despite the fact that, in the original broadcast version of the TV show (before it got all director's-cutted, box-setted, special-editioned, and platinum-lined) he shows up for only slightly less than thirteen minutes of total screen time, the climax of which being an entire minute where nothing happens at all.

That's what being a beautiful angel will do for you, especially when you make the most of your thirteen minutes on Earth by having a Whirlwind romance with the main character that ends in a lover's quarrel with Prog Knives and finally a voluntary martyrdom at the hand of your boy here. Relationships don't come any more tragic than that of Kaworu Nagisa and Shinji Ikari, and when fans (including this one) first saw it on TV, the affair was so brief and shocking the story logic of it didn't click in until much later.

In the anime, Kaworu is acknowledged as the Final Messenger, and, of all the Angels Shinji has to fight, this is the most ruthless battle, won at the highest possible cost to himself. It took even longer for me to realize that the showdown in episode 24 had also taken us full circle from Shinji's first fight in episodes 1 and 2, which emphasized his personal helplessness against the looming Angel Sachiel. Against Kaworu, it is the Angel who becomes the small, helpless figure, while Shinji is represented only by the gargantuan, frightful helm and arm of his Eva Unit-O1. We never see Shinji's human face once throughout the whole final minute of decision.

So as Col. Trautman would have said instead of Major Katsuragi, "It's over, Shinji! IT'S OVER!" Kaworu v. Shinji (or Kaworu x Shinji, in the doujinshi) was the big final showdown between humanity and the Angels. And with the outcome leaving Shinji at his most wretched ever, wouldn't it be nice if everyone just died—your wish being Eva's command, as it turns out that fortunately humanity hardly ever needed the Angels to slaughter itself.

"I am perishing already—I am failing—I am passing away. In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever...But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

Satan's words near the end of Mark Twain's story also uncannily prefigure the end of the world and the Instrumentality project, both of which follow his death in the TV show in such quick order you picture Anno as a hairnetted fry cook dinging the counter bell. By now you see Sadamoto's handling of Kaworu, and perhaps nothing illustrates the different experiences of the manga and the anime better than his handling of this critical character.

No longer the last Angel to be fought, Kaworu actually becomes an active Eva pilot and fights an Angel—the dude even has the nerve to observe the fight is fixed, based on his knowledge of SEELE's prophecies. Sadamoto of course introduces him at an earlier point in the narrative—at the equivalent of episode 19's end—and then sends him to NERV near the equivalent of episode 22's beginning—before certain important events, to put it mildly, can occur. When one notes this kind of thing, of course, it's important to restate that the Evangelion manga has always been a separate but equal "official" version of Eva, with no particular obligation to align itself with the anime, and indeed it was with Book Five, the first released after The End of Evangelion, that Sadamoto began to truly seem free to go in his own direction.

Nevertheless, as the "other" official version of the Eva story, it is reasonable for fans to view it as an "alternate history" relative to the anime, and the way Kaworu has been introduced makes us realize the manga may end very differently indeed. Despite the fact we know here that Kaworu is an Angel from the very beginning, he appears destined to at least hang around long enough to pick up a few paychecks. It's not clear when your health benefits kick in at NERV, although if Ritsuko is your primary caregiver it might be best to forego them.

Sadamoto's remarks upon visiting the U.S. in 2003 indicated that the Eva manga might (might) be planned as a twelve-volume series in all. There is still plenty of room for speculation, as the slow working pace to which the artist himself often refers has of late become almost relativistic—as of this writing, it has been eight months since Sadamoto has drawn a new installment of Eva in Japan, and hence a Volume Ten is nowhere in sight. It may be small comfort, but those of you reading this are pretty much in the same drifting boat as the Japanese fans.

"An angel's love is sublime, adorable, divine, beyond the imagination of man—infinitely beyond it! But it is limited to his own august order. If it fell upon one of your race for only an instant, it would consume its object to ashes. No, we cannot love men but we can be harmlessly indifferent to them; we can also like them, sometimes."

—from The Mysterious Stranger

And with Book Nine we see the most staggering difference thus far between the manga and the anime; Sadamoto's Shinji doesn't even like Kaworu, much less love him. Of course, you could say the less-ethereal Kaworu of the manga is harder to love. I can't believe Sadamoto had him tell Rei he thought she'd be "heftier." And yet he did.

I don't think any A.T. Fields actually got penetrated in the anime; while I do think Shinji felt sexually attracted to Kaworu, and that you the audience are supposed to feel that he felt it, what Kaworu himself thought was a very different matter. Like Rei, I believe Kaworu to be innocent—coyly, he appears not to be so, because while Rei needed to be reached out to, Kaworu has come to reach out; whereas Rei has spent her existence being observed; Kaworu has come to observe.

Indeed, in the manga, Shinji's irritation about Kaworu's invasion of his personal space seems almost a parody of his attitude in the anime. In the TV show, when Kaworu put his hand on Shinji's, he flinched but did not pull away; whereas in the manga it's easy to imagine Shinji slugging him. Instead he goes to run after Rei, hoping to get closer to her again.

I hardly think the change reflects any phobia on Sadamoto's part (after all, we even get to see Shinji's "Unit One" in the manga), but the fact the manga Shinji is less emotionally bleak and empty, and hence less vulnerable. Shinji's just as negative in the manga, of course, but it's an active variety, rather than the passive negative creep (in the best Nirvana song sense) we know from the anime. We don't have to imagine him slugging Gendo; from the look of surprise on Dad's face in Book Seven he would have smacked the beard off his face if Kaji hadn't stopped him.

Neither is Shinji in a positive emotional situation where we leave him here, either; indeed at this point in the manga there's arguably no one he can turn to—the more brutal fate that befell Toji has cut him off from his school friends, Rei has become hesitant, Kaji is dead, and his perennial self-esteem booster Asuka is going to need to rebuild her internal supply before she can even get back to calling him a loser and idiot.

So, like Misato trying to put her own hand on Shinji's, all I can do for now while we wait for Sadamoto-sensei is to recommend for your winter vacation reading list The Mysterious Stranger, which I can almost guarantee will give you new angles to think about Kaworu, and may even earn you class credit besides. A quick look at the novel's comments on Amazon list a teacher who says fundamentalist students walked out of his class when he taught it; another compares it to The Matrix; those who dislike it call it "sick," "bitter," and "twisted." Sounds like good old Evangelion to me!

—Carl Gustav Horn

[a drawing of Kaworu holding a kitten]

Although The Mysterious Stranger can also be found in a number of print editions, including The Portable Mark Twain from Penguin (haw haw), the story, being from the days when mp3s came on shellacked cylinders, is legally available online at http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/TwaMyst.html. The same site has a book called The Holy Bible, King James Version, which fans of Evangelion might also enjoy, although it's technically "Editor's Choice."

#eva #kaworu nagisa #idec if twain didn't write that shit #i'm all over this

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Seven - Fix You

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

WARNINGS: Gun talk, mentions of murder, The usual SOA shit. 

An almost unsettling fog blanketed Charming tonight, amplifying the sinister aura that’d been drifting through the town since Stahl had made her mark.

Since June Stahl had made it her mission—her whole purpose—to destroy the Sons Of Anarchy, and anybody that laid in her path.

She was doing a damn good job of that, too.

Isla wasn’t sure what her hasty arrival would mean for the club, but she knew that it wasn’t going to end pretty. She was aware that the bitter agent was just as stiff-necked as Clay, and wasn’t going down without a fucking fight.

Which, a fight, the Sons could do. It was whether they’d all make it out alive that Isla couldn’t predict.

She wouldn’t want to put her money on it either, actually.

“Any word on Bobby?”

“No.” Gemma’s sigh was sad, exhausted. “Rosen swung by just after you left with the she-devil. Said there’s a witness in a safe house willing to testify against Bobby and Ope in court. And if he does stick to his word, they’re going down for murder.”

Choosing to ignore her comment about Tara, Isla continued to pace the room. She held her cell tightly between her pink fingertips, hoping it’d light up and vibrate with a call from Jax, or Tig, or even Happy.

“Shit.” She hissed, mindful of the fact that there was a sleeping baby in Wendy’s arms and any offensive sounds would rouse him in an instant. “Did Clay tell you what their next move was?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think you’re gonna like it, sweetheart.”

She didn’t have to be privy to the plan to know that their next move involved one witness, three men, and a handful of shrapnel bullets.

“Jax know about this?” Almost concerned, Wendy asked. Isla’s ears perked up at that, too, because she wanted to know.

The VP was brutal, he was domineering and harsh when he had to be, but he wanted minimal blood shed. He didn’t host that same massacre mentality as Tig or Clay, and he definitely didn’t desire the sick thrill of gunning down a witness being protected by the fucking ATF.

“I’m assuming that he doesn’t.” The blonde uttered for Gemma after noticing that she was taking a painfully long time to respond. “Clay sent Happy, Tig, and who else? Juice?”

“Not Juice.”

“Did Clay go?” A little bit condescending, like she already knew the answer, Wendy asked. She rocked Abel back and forth as she did so, penetratively glaring at her ex-mother-in-law.

Isla swallowed thickly, stuffing her cell into the back pocket of her jeans when she realized what Gemma was trying to say.

Clay never did his own dirty work—it was always the Sgt. At Arms and whoever else was willing to get the blood on their hands. And her father, the forward-thinking, strong-willed Scotsman, never shied away from a task of this nature.

“It’s okay.” She spoke aloud, elucidating her innermost thoughts. “It’s fine. They’ve got Hap—he’s never been caught before—he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Tig, too. Y’know what he’s like.”

“Yeah.” Reflectively, she spoke. “At least they’d go through with it if my dad couldn’t.”

“You saying that your old man is weak?”

“No.” Isla spat at Wendy, glaring at her. “I’m saying that he has a conscience. Hap and Tig are a little bit hasty with the trigger and don’t tend to think before they execute somebody.”

In agreement, Gemma nodded.

“But it’s gotta be done.” She concluded, sitting on the arm of the couch. “The witness has gotta be dealt with—even if Jax doesn’t know anything about this.”

She felt her heart constrict at the thought of nobody telling the Vice President about their plans to get rid of that man.

The man that had the power to take down Opie and Bobby, and leave a club without their brothers.

Two families without their fathers.

And though it was inherently wrong to commit murder, Isla had been brought up knowing that the Sons got rid of their problems by planting bullets in the skulls of their enemies.

It was bad and immoral, and she couldn’t think of a way to excuse it to anybody on the outside. But to SAMCRO, it was habitual. It was what they did because it worked. Every single time.

“Wait a second.”

“What’s the matter, baby?”

Isla pulled a hand through her hair. “How is Clay so sure that they’re not gonna get caught? Y’know, ‘cuz this witness is being protected by the ATF—“

She was cut short by a delicate, albeit firmer than usual, knock at the door. Isla piqued a brow when Gemma got up to answer.

“They’ve got it covered.” Was all she managed to muster out before she went to see who’d decided to turn up at that hour.

Isla’s brain was doing cartwheels. She was nervous, she was pissed, but, most of all, she was upset that Chibs hadn’t told her where he was going tonight.

She snapped herself out of it, though. When Gemma scoffed as she opened the door and trailed back to her spot on the adjacent couch, Isla’s interests had been roused.

“It’s kinda late for a house call.” Her eyes rolled.

Tara trailed in behind her, feeling uneasy at the mere sight of the SAMCRO Queen and Jax’s ex-wife—but Isla being the only friendly face eased her a little bit.

“I was on my way home from work. Just thought I’d stop by and check in.”

“That’s sweet.” Isla smiled at the brunette, offering her the space next to Wendy. “Here.”

“It’s okay, I’ll stand—“

“No, I insist.” She protested softly, getting up. “It’s been a long day for you, sweetie. I’ll sit by mama bear over there.”

Gemma snorted, trying to figure out just what had happened between the pair for Isla to suddenly be so kind and considerate toward the woman she loathed for the best part of a decade.

But she was drawing a blank, because she realized how stupid that would’ve been to wonder—she was just like that. Nothing had to happen for her to be that way.

Isla was the kind of woman that Gemma wanted to be, while simultaneously being her exact double. She was a cleaner, kinder, brighter version of the matriarch, though she hosted that flicker of something that’d tie her to the battle axe that raised her.

And maybe calling the woman a “battle axe” was a little bit harsh, but it was true—on almost every single count.

Gemma was strong-willed, stubborn, martinent, and she took no shit from anybody. Isla wasn’t like that. She wasn’t a doormat, and she didn’t let people walk all over her, but she never went out of her way to demand respect.

Even though she’d been brought up to know she was better than the other women that lived among the Sons Of Anarchy.

“Is he here?”

“Does it look like he’s here?” Gemma’s lips twitched.

“No, I just…I guess I miss him, you know?”

Wendy nodded, tending to a fidgeting Abel. “Yeah, I do.”

Isla looked between the pair—sadly. She watched two of the most important people in Jax’s life sit side-by-side, meditative and wondering about the positions they had both been thrust into.

He had lived two completely different lives with each woman, and she was grateful to say that she had been present in both.

But to see Jax struggle—to see his heart break twice—was too much for Isla to think about, really.

She had watched Tara walk away, right out of his life without a second glance or even a second thought. And it was painful to discern. Painful to know that her best friend had lost the love of his life because she felt that she was too good to stick around for him.

Isla knew that wasn’t the entire truth, and that Tara was just doing a good thing for herself. But, at the time, she was young and stupid and extremely closed-minded when it came to the people that wronged the ones she loved, and all she wanted to do was hate that woman.

She’d grown up a lot since then, though. Isla was a different person entirely—a better version of herself—and she understood each reason behind every last thing Tara did when she did it.

Even if Jax’s mother couldn’t get to grips with it—couldn’t think about trusting her—Isla could.

It was a little bit difficult now, however. To see Tara and Wendy in the same room—trying to coexist peacefully in Jax’s life—was hard.

The lull was boisterous. The sheepish silence was deafening, and the thwacking of Isla’s heart against her chest was vociferous enough to be heard by Gemma across the way.

It was a position she didn’t want to be thrust into, but she wasn’t willing to get up and leave had anything been said.

She sat beside the older woman, watching her watch them like a fucking hawk, until her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

Isla shifted, pulling the cell from the denim and flipping it open.

Janet: Can u make it in for 9 tomorrow morning?

Her eyebrows pinched together, looking up a little confused. Isla swore that she sent Janet a text message that told her she wouldn’t be able to work in the morning.

She couldn’t miss Donna’s funeral. She didn’t want to, either.

“Who is it?” Gemma spoke inquisitively, peeling her eyes away from the conversion between Wendy and Tara.

“My boss.”

“Janet?” She nodded. “What’d that bitch want?”

“For me to work tomorrow morning—”

Gemma turned to her, grimacing. “But it’s the funeral. You told her that, right?”

Once again, Isla bobbed her head while fiddling with the buttons on her cellphone.

“She’s not gonna let me take another day off.” Her throat hitched at the realization. “I’m just gonna have to go with you, ignore her calls, and tell her that I didn’t see the text she sent to me tonight.”

Lying to and ignoring the woman that paid her at the end of every month, the woman that had helped her financially for the last five years, wasn’t what Isla wanted to do today.

But it was the only way she could pay her respects to Donna, she thought.

“You’re not gonna go in, right?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just gonna call her after the funeral and apologize—“

“Don’t apologize.” Gemma chastised, knitting her eyebrows together. “If she can’t understand that you’ve got a funeral in the morning that you can’t miss, then she can go to hell—“

“Alright, Gem.” Her chuckle was hearty as she put her hand against her purse, pulling it to sit against her shoulder.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna head home.” She rose to her feet smiling over at Tara and Wendy. “It’s getting late and we’ve gotta be out early tomorrow.”

“Alright, baby.” The older woman stood with her, pushing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Call me when you get there?”

Isla smiled, pecking her cheek. “Of course.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She directed toward Tara—not particularly giving a damn if Wendy would be there or not.

The doctor simply smiled and nodded, giving her the answer that she not only wanted, but needed. She needed her there by her side in the morning. Isla feared she wouldn’t be able to get through it without her, actually.

But she was dreading the day. To see those men hold themselves together—to see Opie strive not to crumble—was something that she didn’t want to have to witness tomorrow.

So many funerals had she attended, so many friends and family members had been seized from her reach throughout the course of her life, but she hadn’t seen anything like this before.

She hadn’t ever seen a friend lose his one true love, the woman that brought him unintelligible happiness and two beautiful children to cherish with his entire being.

She hadn’t seen Opie suffer so much before. The man that was strong and willing and would hastily blow shit up with little to no regard for consequences, was disintegrating before her very eyes.

And Isla didn’t fucking know how to help him cope with that. She didn’t even know if she could help him to cope with that.

Her anxiety was still present on the drive home, too.

Even after getting into bed and recounting the events of the afternoon, Isla was still nervous as to what’d happen next. Because Clay’s reaction to Bobby getting arrested didn’t inspire much confidence, either.

And the way that Piney had disappeared earlier to seek vengeance, to hold a fucking pistol to the head of Laroy Wayne—the man that allegedly played a role in the murder of Donna Winston—was also prickling away at her thoughts.

Something was going to go wrong, wasn’t it?

No matter how well thought out their plans might’ve been, or how seamlessly they carried out the crime, something always went wrong. Somebody was always caught out, or hurt, or just felt bad about what they were doing.

Isla could’ve written that shit, now. After so many failed hits, failed attempts, and unfortunate events, Isla was almost a pro at predicting what the future would entail.

Almost as if she’d manifested it by merely thinking, her attention was piqued by the hastening roar of a motorcycle engine—clearly pulling up to her place.

It was wonderful to know that Gemma hadn’t decided to follow her home tonight, but the rough din could’ve led to any of the others.

She hoped it wasn’t Jax, and she really hoped it wasn’t her father or Happy.

As she slid out of bed, Isla reached for the pink robe with the daisies on it that rested against the back of her bedroom door, and shrugged it on over her silky pajamas.

It was great that she lived in such a small house, really, because she was able to get from point A (her bedroom) to point B (the front door), in a matter of seconds, or before the person outside got angry that she was taking too long.

He hadn’t knocked the door yet, but she knew that he was about to.

Isla rummaged around the little bowl beside the entrance for her front door key, suddenly realizing that she had way too many of them—her house key, a key to her mailbox, keys to T M, keys to her dad’s place, her car keys, she had somebody’s bike keys, too.

The little chain that hosted a few pieces of metal, a cherry keychain, a tiny motorcycle, and an old beaded bracelet that Chibs had given to her for safe travels, was hastily being shoved into the lock and twisted counterclockwise.

“How’d you know I was out here?” Tig asked from about a foot away, barely visible to her as the streetlights were out, for some reason.

“Literally couldn’t hear myself think over the sound of your bike.” She chuckled, leaning against her door frame. She squinted, trying to focus on him—but it was no use. “What’re you going here, Tigger?”

He stepped further toward her—reluctantly. The dim glow of her living room light suddenly illuminated the space a hell of a lot more, hitting Tig square in the face as Isla shifted a little to her left.

Her heart clenched.

“I need you to play nurse again.” Bashfully, he smiled.

There were tears of pain trickling from those crystalline hues, his left hand firmly planted against his ribcage, and she suddenly heeded the dried blood underneath his nose, his lips, and a bruise forming against his cheek.

“Tig…” Her words broke away from her tongue, the lump in her throat constricting her airways because seeing him so beaten and exhausted hurt her.

“You should see the other guy.” He tried to joke, but the humor was lost on her.

Lost on him, too. He didn’t think it was funny, but he hated the way she was looking at him.

“Sorry to bring this here.” Tig sniffed harshly, squinting as the pain suddenly started to hit him. “I’ll—uh—I’ll go—“

“No. No, you’re not going anywhere.” She stated firmly, stepping out of the house and down the path. “You’re gonna come in, I’m gonna fix you up, and you’re gonna tell me what happened.”

“Isla…”

“Please, Alex.”

Tig couldn’t help that little smile pulling at the corners of his lips, always liking that she’d say his name so softly. Anybody else referring to him that way would’ve gotten a swift kick in the fucking gut—but she was different.

Isla was a comfort. Always had been.

He stepped inside, following closely behind her as she made a beeline for her bathroom. But she instructed him to sit at the dinner table, stifling a laugh at the way she tried her hand at being the authoritative figure.

She’d even told him to help himself to the Jack Daniels she kept for when Chibs called ‘round.

“You’re so lucky dad taught me how to treat wounds.” She called from the end of the hallway, shuffling across the carpet in a pair of sparkly pink slippers.

“I know.” He agreed, thankful. “He did a good job, too.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.” Isla smiled, putting her first aid necessities atop the table. “But don’t tell him that I’m about to ask you to take your shirt off, or else he’ll beat the shit outta you.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.” She smiled again, gesturing to the part of his body that his hand had subconsciously taken purchase against. “I’m not tryna make you do a strip tease for me, Tig, I just need to see if you’ve got any cuts there or if it’s just a bruise.”

“I think it’s just a bruise,” he mused, shrugging off his black zip-up, and starting to unbutton the cotton shirt adorning his torso.

Isla bit her bottom lip as she fiddled with the tube of antiseptic cream, wondering how she would broach the topic. She wanted to know what had happened—because whatever it was clearly did not go to plan—but she didn’t want him to think that she was trying to force it out of him.

“See.” Tig ran his hand over the red marks, lines, and the small flecks of yellow surrounding his rib cage and lower abdomen. “All good.”

“Not all good.” She halted him as he tried to reason with her, furrowing her eyebrows. “Where did they come from?”

Nobody could lie to her. Ever.

Nobody had to lie to her, really, because Isla Telford tried not to ask any questions—but she was worried tonight.

Worried about Tig and the various messes that he’d found himself entwined in over the last day and a half. Worried that he was in trouble, that he was tormenting himself over something out of his reach—his control.

She was just worried about him, really.

His sigh was throaty, hurt palpable. “You want the whole truth, or the dumbed-down version?”

“The whole truth.” She retorted instantaneously, letting him button his shirt before she started to clean the blood from his face. “And don’t try to lie to me, because I know you too well for that.”

Like last night, he felt pathetic. He felt that twinge of vulnerability poke through again, and he hated it.

He hated the thought of Isla seeing him this way—in pain, downtrodden and exhausted—and he hated the thought of her knowing that whatever it was he did today had gotten to him so much.

“The witness that was gonna testify against Ope. Me, Hap, and your old man went to go ‘n handle him,” Tig sucked in a deep breath when the alcohol pad nicked at a cut he was unaware of.

“I know about that part.” Easily, she followed on. “So what happened? Was he too fast?”

His head shook, an airy chuckle escaping his lips. “He was a she. A teenage girl—“

“Jesus, Tig.” Almost disgusted, she took a step back. “You didn’t…”

“No.” He reassured her, letting her soften a little bit before coming out with; “but me and Hap were gonna.”

“You’re kidding?”

If there was one thing that Isla knew SAMCRO did not do, it was kill women. Ever.

There had been accidents that saw innocent girls caught in the crossfire—last night, for one—which was inevitable. But the club never went out of their way to end their lives.

“Wish I was, Isla.” Tig’s eyes watered, but she didn’t do anything. She didn’t say anything, either. “I dunno what's happening to me.”

I don’t either, Tiggy.

“I was gonna put that bullet in her and if it wasn’t for Jax—“

“Jax was there?”

“He stormed in after someone must’ve told him we were gonna off the “man” that saw Ope and Bobby kill Hefner at that complex.”

“Oh.” She nodded along, cleaning out the wound she had literally only just fixed yesterday.

But the cogs inside of her brain were slowly turning.

“Oh…” Isla quickly looked down at him, piecing the puzzle together. “Tell me he didn’t do this to you.”

He winced as the whiskey left a searing trail down the back of his throat, barely making eye contact with her before she snapped.

“Tig! Talk to me—“

“Alright, fine! Yeah, he did this!” He raised his voice at her, watching anger flit across her delicate features. “He held his glock to my goddamn head and I was ready for him to pull the trigger, but he didn’t.”

She blinked at him, uneasy at the thought of what Jax had started to morph into. Who he had started to morph into.

“We ended up fighting and I got a few hits in, but the asshole punched me in the fucking face and threw me onto a table—that’s probably where the bruises came from.”

“And this was because of the girl, right?”

“Right.”

“But Happy and my dad were there, too…Why did Jax beat the shit outta you?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t,” she grabbed the tumbler from his right hand so he couldn’t silence himself with anymore alcohol, and put it atop the table.

“Because he stormed in when I had the gun to that kid’s head, and I was gonna pull the fucking trigger.” He recounted, sobbing as he spoke.

She was seething. Oh, Isla was fucking furious—but she didn’t want to spook him after this, because he was unpredictable and really unstable. She didn’t want him to do anything stupid.

“It’s alright.” The damp pad was discarded, tossed to the middle of the table when she grabbed gently at his chin and forced him to look upward. “You didn’t kill her, I’m assuming Jax handled it some other way, and you’re outta the blue, okay? It’s fine.”

Maybe Isla was so quick to forgive him for something that he didn’t do because she was also toiling with the idea of coming to terms with an act just as—if not more—treacherous than Tig’s.

She seeked that reassurance, that “it’s okay” talk from somebody after what she had done with her best friend, but she knew that the only person that’d give it to her was Jax. Because he was also trying to accept it.

The guilt was hefty and Tig knew all too fucking well what that’d entail, but he had no idea that Isla was suffering that same thing, too.

“You didn’t know the witness was a kid. None of you were to know that if Rosen didn’t specify.”

“But I was still gonna do it.” He added. “After I found out she was a kid, I was still gonna kill her.”

“But you didn’t.”

He was making it difficult for her to get through to him.

“It was horrible and I know that what you were going to do was bad, but you weren’t the only one there, about to do what you had to for your brother.” Isla’s thumb ran softly underneath his lower lip, hoping the tears welling in her eyes weren’t about to fall to the apples of her cheeks.

Because that’s all that Tig was doing. He was doing this for his brother. For the man that had already sacrificed so fucking much for his club, he deserved every last sliver of prosperity and protection that SAMCRO could offer.

And, perhaps, Tig wanting so desperately to pull that trigger was a way for him to solidify the fact that Opie wasn’t going to be sent away—wasn’t going to suffer more after his wife had been “mysteriously” killed. But Isla simply saw that as him wanting to do an inherently evil thing that’d see the greater good ensue.

Looking past the fact it was a teenage girl, however, was something she had to work on for the sake of her own fucking sanity.

“Thank you.” Tig broke the silence, getting to his feet. He towered over her a little bit as he did so. “See you tomorrow—“

Isla didn’t have enough time to think about what she was doing, but that phrase triggered something inside of her. She grabbed at his hand as he went to slip away, looking up at him with that almost heart-wrenching innocence of hers.

“I did something bad, too.” She blurted, letting her tears fall freely. “I can't say what I did, but it was bad and I regret it every fucking day because I can’t sleep properly, and it’s the only thing on my mind, and I just—“

He silenced her when he wrapped both arms around her trembling frame, holding her impossibly close to his chest as she weepeed into the navy cotton, and he gradually moved a hand upward to twist into her hair.

“It’s alright, baby, let it out.”

Mentally, he commended himself for being the one person that Isla trusted enough to confide in—to crumble before. But it was also sickening because the woman was so fucking stubborn and rarely ever shed a tear in front of a Son.

Chibs was the only one that saw her like this, really.

He felt horrible. Not because she was so upset but because she had so obviously been harboring that emotion, that pain and anguish and she didn’t know how to express it without crying.

“I’m scared, Tig.” Isla mumbled sadly into his chest, trying to sniff back the horrid emotion but failing miserably.

“Of what?”

“Myself. And these stupid things that I can’t stop thinking.”

“Thoughts are normal.” He reassured her, running a hand up and down her back. “Intrusive thoughts are normal. Don’t you worry—“

“You can’t tell me not to worry, because that’s gonna make me worry.” Her words were plied in a weak laugh. “And when I worry, I cry—obviously.”

“Don’t cry.” He chuckled, too, using the pad of his thumb to brush across her cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry this much.”

“And you’re too much of a mean old man to be this comforting.” Tig feigned offense, gasping dramatically at her words. “So, what was it? What pulled at your heartstrings so much that made you think you had to try and make me feel better?”

“It’s my good deed for the day.” Her lips curled upward into a grin when his expression softened.

“Do you think you can extend that good deed?”

He grunted, nodding. “Suppose so. What’d ‘ya want me to do?”

“I was just gonna ask if you’d stay with me again tonight.” All irreverence in her tone had melted away, promptly replaced by a borderline debilitating sincerity. “You don’t have to because we’ve gotta be out early for the funeral tomorrow, and that’d mean you’d have to leave earlier to get yourself fixed up, but—“

“I can leave a little earlier.” He cut her short, still swiping at the tears that wouldn’t quit flowing from her eyes. “If you get your ass up and ready before eight, you can leave with me too.”

“Yeah?” Hopefully, she asked. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Tig confirmed, slinging his arm over her shoulder when she pulled away and pointed toward the end of the hall. “And I guessed that you didn’t wanna head to the garage alone—and Gemma would probably beat the shit outta you if you were late—so if you come with me, you’ll be on time.”

Isla just hummed, thankful for the genuine intentions behind Tig’s actions. He was sweet when he wanted to be.

“Where am I sleepin’?” He asked with a little grunt, a twinge of pain prickling against his ribcage. “I’ll take the couch—“

“Oh, shut up. You’re not sleeping on my couch after getting your shit rocked.”

Tig glared at her, but she simply raised an eyebrow. She gestured to her bedroom.

“Y’know, if we keep spending the night together then people are gonna get a little suspicious.”

“Eh. Let ‘em.” Isla stated offhandedly shimmying her shoulders out of her robe, and throwing it onto her vanity stool as she got to her room. “I don’t care what Gemma thinks.”

“Not so much Gemma.” They shared a knowing look, but he followed her into the room and sat at the edge of her bed regardless.

Isla sighed, sitting beside him.

“If you’re worried about my dad because of how he was this morning, then you don’t need to be. I think he’s just a little bit spun out after last night, and feels bad for Ope—‘cuz, y’know, he’s been through this too.”

Tig’s heartbeat hastened to an almost debilitating tempo, wondering how Isla knew the similarities between Diane and Donna. But she blew those thoughts right out his brain when she built on her response.

“He lost his wife and was left with a kid,” she pointed to herself, “and didn’t know how to navigate this life without the woman he’d depended on for so long. It’s just heavy at the moment.”

“Yeah,” he shook his head a little, looking at his hands bunched together in his lap, “you’re probably right about that.”

“It’s all that it is. He’s just feelin’ it a little more than what we are.”

I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Isla.

“Anyway.” She perked up a bit more. “If you wanna freshen up, I’ve got some shampoo and lotions that don’t smell like roses in the bathroom—and I think there might be some razors in one of those cupboards, too.”

“You gonna join me?”

The tips of her ears began to blaze, stippling heat across her cheeks and down to her neck until she could almost feel how red she was getting.

Despite knowing that was a joke—the habitual banter shared between them—it still forced a feeling to swell in her stomach.

A feeling of something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Isla chuckled at the playful pout tugging at his lips, urging him to step into the en suite before she physically fucking exploded.

He grabbed a towel from the pile, walked in, and shut the door behind him, and she threw herself against the top of the comforter with a groan.

At what point had Tig’s harmless flirting turned into something more for Isla, she wasn’t entirely sure. What she did know, however, was that she was definitely enjoying it a little bit too much now.

And that would complicate things, she was certain of it.

But she strived not to let it get to her, and slid underneath the unkempt covers for the second time tonight.

When Tig emerged from the bathroom, he was thankful to see that she’d covered herself up because the tiny crimson cami and shorts combo was killing him.

He wasn’t able to pinpoint just what it was that’d made him feel so differently about that this evening, but he knew that he wasn’t able to get the image out of his fucking head.

“Was that nice?” She asked from the left side of her bed, barely opening her eyes as he stepped onto the carpet.

“It was.” Tig answered softly, picking his jeans up from the ground.

“You can’t seriously be wearing those to sleep in?”

“I’ve slept in more uncomfortable outfits.”

Isla huffed out a breath, gripping the covers and pulling them back. “Wait here.” Begrudgingly, she left the bed again and traipsed toward the cabinet at the end of her hallway.

He watched her saunter away, heeding the crow tattoo on her lower back that he’d never noticed before. He wondered who she’d gotten that for, and he also wondered if anybody even knew about that—because he certainly did not.

“These are clean, you can wear them.” She threw a pair of pajama pants at him from the doorway, hoping he wouldn’t make a face.

Cautiously, he held them out in front of him. “Whose are these?”

“Nobodies. I just learned—from Gemma—to always keep spare shit at my house. Like the shower stuff and razors, and I’ve got things for whoever might need them.”

He smiled, forgetting that she was so thoughtful.

Tig unzipped his pants and slipped into the checkered cotton as Isla rummaged around the bottom drawer of her closet, pulling out a couple of pillows.

“You do this a lot?” He quizzed, getting into bed. “Take care of us guys, I mean.”

“Not really. Only when one of you needs it.”

He nodded, taking one of the two pillows from her.

“Aside from stitching you up two days in a row, the last time I took care of somebody was when Jax and Wendy split and he let her live at his place.”

“He never said.”

“‘Cuz Gemma would go nuts if she found out that he came to me and not his mommy.” She chuckled, settling beside him before flicking the lamp off. “And he only stayed with me for a couple weeks because he didn’t wanna sleep at the clubhouse.”

“So you were harboring Jax from her, huh?” He nudged her, prompting Isla to shift closer to him.

“I guess so.” She joked back through a yawn. “I felt bad for him because she’s such a hardass sometimes. He just wanted somewhere to stay, and somebody to keep him company that wouldn’t ask an abundance of overbearing questions.”

“And you were that somebody.”

“Yup. I was.” Tig turned onto his side to face her. “And I liked it because I hate being alone. It was nice to have somebody around.”

“You? Not wanting to be alone?” Sarcastically, he let out.

Had he not already been hurt, she would’ve slapped the smugness off of his face for that comment.

“What’s that all about, huh?”

“The being alone thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, really.” She mused quietly, pursing her lips. “I think I just got used to being around my dad, and whenever I wasn’t with him I was with Gemma—and I didn’t move into my own place until I was twenty-three, so…”

“So you always had somebody.”

“Yup. I guess I have some attachment issues.” Isla chuckled, silently thanking him for not ridiculing her the way she thought that he might’ve.

But Tig was always so thoughtful when it came to her, and he probably wouldn’t have been able to find it in himself to make fun of that sentiment.

He had his own issues, too. He wouldn’t dream of mocking that she didn’t like to be alone.

“Is it Jax’s?” He asked out of nowhere in reference to the crow. “The tattoo you got.”

Isla froze. She didn’t know that he’d seen it tonight.

Only Tara knew about that. Only Tara knew about a lot of things, it seemed.

“No.” She rasped, hating the way her words became lodged at the back of her throat.

Tig raised a brow. “Whose is it? Is it Juice’s—“

She snorted at his words, and he smiled because he had finally gaged a more positive reaction. Her smile—though barely visible—was most certainly as beautiful as ever.

“It isn’t anybody’s. It’s just a SAMCRO crow.” The smile was weak, now. Faded and pained, but it was there.

She wasn’t lying, but it felt like there was more to the story than what she was letting on, and he was happy with the answer that he’d gotten. So he didn't push it.

“Would you ever get a crow for someone?” A question that he never thought he’d be asking Chibs’s daughter, but a question that he had to acquire an answer to.

After mulling it over for a few seconds, Isla nodded. She laid her hand atop Tig’s that was resting against his pillow, and flicked her eyes upward to meet his gaze as he yawned.

“Maybe one day. But, right now, I’m happy knowing that my little tattoo represents my dedication to the club as a whole—not just refined to one person.”

#tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #tig trager x oc #jax teller #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller x oc #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic

[finiteuniverse13]

Eric Blackburn is Soft (and a mild insomniac)

Taglist:  @chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @disasterfandoms @jasonbabymama @velvetcardiganbucky @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @thelovelyleo23 @itsonautopilot @supervalcsi @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy @mrsmarvelous1995 @bravo-four-seal-team

Blackburn, by most measures, is arguably the 'dad' of Bravo (when he's not available, Ray is a good placeholder). However, there are times that he's equally as irresponsible as the idiots who work for him.

One such time is now. He's swaying where he's stood, trying to figure out where an appropriate infil and exfil would be for a really, really well fortified and isolated hideout for Ellis' Tango Of The Week. He'd sent Ellis and Davis to sleep about half an hour ago after they'd let slip that they'd been awake for 27 hours trying to find a plan.

Despite being awake for around 34 hours himself, he was still stood in ops, downing his – how many was it at this point? High teens, probably, maybe twenties – coffee, the latest of many. The maps blurred under the gaze of his dry eyes, and he loses a few seconds, blinking and when his eyes open again he's sat in an uncomfortable chair a few strides away. The door slams open and Blackburn's hand retreats from where it was reaching out for the map. He, albeit slowly, looks up at the figure now looming over him. The man stares down at him in disapproval, an eyebrow quirked and arms crossed.

"Eric." It's not said with the intention that he's going to be allowed to continue working. Eric's faced down many, many people in his days. Gone toe-to-toe with Hayes more times than he can count, out-glared both Sonny and Ray, and on more than one occasion, got Carter to back down. But at that moment, he hasn't got the willpower to stand up to the man, let alone argue. He nods quietly and lets the man put a hand on his arm, pulling him up and begin escorting him to Bravo's bunks. The sun is just beginning to be seen over the horizon and the rays hurt his eyes more. He closes his eyes against the bright assault and lets the man lead him towards the bunks.

As the door to Bravo's room opens, six pairs of eyes turn to him. The man gently pushes Eric, fully clothed, into one of the bottom bunks. As nimble fingers begin taking off his boots, a voice, not the same one as earlier, sounds out against the relative silence now echoing around the room.

"Sleep."

Eric's boots slip off his feet and he settles in, already half asleep by the time that someone pulls the comforter over him.

When he wakes up, sun high in the sky, he's admittedly quite confused. A few questions flew through his head. Why was he in one of Bravo's bunk, not his own? Why had they let him sleep for so long? How much coffee had he drunk? And, probably the most pressing of them all, why was there a weight on his back? He shuffled and that question was answered as Cerberus jumped off his back onto the floor. He raised his eyebrows at the dog and Cerb's tail started wagging in answer. A quick glance to the floor next to the bunk he was in told him that his boots were within easy reach. A water bottle sits next to them, a post-it note stuck haphazardly to the side of it with Trent's handwriting saying "DRINK". Once a medic, always a medic.

He sat up in bed, reaching first for the bottle, figuring even if he didn't particularly want to drink, it was always better to not incite Trent's – and in turn Carter's – wrath. He pulls his boots on next, and as he begins to lace them up, Cerb grabs the empty bottle in his mouth and wanders out of the bunk room, presumably on his way to Brock or Trent to signal that Eric was awake. Cerb opening the door lets in a cool breeze that raises goosebumps along Eric's arms. He'd left his jacket in ops, and it was around a five-minute walk back; which was an awful long way in a t-shirt. He notices a navy sleeve in his peripherals, and look up over a few bunks to see a hoodie haphazardly thrown onto the bed.

The thing with Bravo, Eric had learnt, is that property – especially shirts, jackets and caps – wasn't a personal possession, but instead a group possession. It wasn't unusual to see Trent or Ray in a shirt from one of Brock's K9 training seminars, one of the ones where they only give shirts to those who attend; or Clay in a shirt so utterly Texas that if Clay had actually bought it for himself, Eric would pay for a ranch in Texas for him out of his own pocket. Jason was also a fan of Ray's shirts and vice versa. He was also fairly certain that Trent and Carter didn't actually have a distinction between which shirt initially belonged to who, since their clothing largely consisted of monochrome shirts in various states of distress and disarray and the pair frequently forgot which machine had their clothes during laundry day. The point is, Eric's fairly certain nobody would complain or even raise alarm bells if he took the hoodie that belonged to... someone on the op.

He wanders over to the bunk in question, much more stable on his feet than he was earlier that morning, and pulls on the hoodie. The soft-from-use fabric settles around him like a cocoon. The ends on the sleeves fall to his knuckles and the hood creates something akin to a tube around his head, blocking almost all of his peripherals. As he pulls up the sleeves around his wrists, the door is nudged further open. Cerb wanders in again, immediately walking over to where Eric is stood. He accepts a few seconds of scratching behind the ear before he stands behind Eric and nudges the back of Eric's legs, pushing him towards the door.

"Alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going!" And begins walking of his own volition, with Cerb falling into step next to him. Together they cross the base to where Bravo's base of operations is set up. He walks into a heated discussion.

Sonny, standing on a (thankfully not rolling) chair, pointing down at the 3D model, with Clay sat on the chair next to him, feet propped up on the chair that Sonny's stood on. Clay's just grinning up at Sonny, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he's in the middle of encouraging the debate. Carter is stood behind Clay with a mirror of Clay's grin, but he looks slightly more malicious, but Eric puts that down to that just being how Carter smiles. On the other side of the table, indicating to a different part of the model, Ray and Brock. Ray is stood while Brock sits on the table, absent-mindedly bouncing a well-loved (read: very bitten) tennis ball on the floor. Jason is speaking to Ellis and Davis, both of whom look much more rested than they did when he sent them to rack out earlier that day. Trent, leaning against a filing cabinet, is the only one who looks over when Eric walks in, having only been paying partial attention to the argument most of the team is having. He silently offers Eric another bottle of water, which Eric takes without a word.

Trent waits until Eric's drained about a third of the bottle before speaking to him, tone caught between concern and scolding. "We found about 23 empty coffee cups here, and we both know Davis and Mandy have energy drinks while planning for ops. How long were you awake for?"

Eric pauses, eyebrows furrowing. "What time did I go to sleep?" He figures that Trent was, at the very least, present when he was asleep.

"0540."

"Then it's about 34 hours? Give or take a bit."

Cerberus, still stood at his feet, gives out a whine which draws Brock's attention mid-sentence, which attracts the attention of the other 4 around the model. Sonny hops off the chair; barely giving Clay enough time to lift his feet out of the chair before sitting down in it, but he does pull Clay's legs, still in the air as he stares mock-offended, onto his lap.

Trent ignores his brothers and levels a glare at Eric. Eric shrugs and buries a hand into the front pocket of the (really, really, should be illegal how soft it was) soft hoodie, finishing the water and throwing it in the bin. Another is being pressed into the hand that's still out before he's able to fully turn back to Trent to ask for another. He thanks Trent and makes his way over to where his Master Chief appears to be trying to convince Davis to let him try her energy drink. Trent asks a question to the five around the table which reignites the discussion with equal, if not more, vigour.

And at that moment, as he watches Lisa play the energy drink version of cat-and-mouse with Jace, with four of his operators teaming up against the other two in the background; there's nowhere he'd rather be. Stood there in someone's hoodie, with his jacket on the back of Clay's chair (he has no intention of putting it on until the op itself, and he's decided it now belongs to him because it's so comfortable), he's so happy to have them as a family. So grateful that they've allowed him to be part of the family they've made.

#eric blackburn #seal team #seal team headcanons #cbs seal team #jason hayes #sonny quinn #trent sawyer #ray perry #full metal #scott carter #scott full metal carter #murder man #i got a super duper comfortable hoodie the other week #can you tell? #i want to melt when i put it on #don't mind me just projecting onto eric #clay spenser

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mission of Mercy: Twenty-Two

You sat on the floor, leaning on your legs and stretching, thinking. You knew better than anyone that you weren’t infallible. You got things wrong all the time. Your own feelings influence your perceptions. And it takes a concerted effort to make sure that you keep things separate in your head. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that Bucky has been oddly distant. Not “It’s a bad day I need space” distant. But… something else. And you didn’t think you were wrong. People had been giving you looks when Bucky sat away from you. And when he can to breakfast before you and left before you came down. 

It hurt. But then… He was entitled to be done if he was done. You just wished he would have said something to you about it. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

You smile a little when Nat sprawled out across from you. She radiated concern. And irritation, though with you or Bucky, you weren’t sure. “Thoughts about what?”

She gave you a look and you sighed. “I don’t know what’s going through Bucky’s head,” you say honestly. “He’s been staying… away, mostly. At least when I’m awake.”

Natasha frowned, “Why?”

A shrug is the only answer you can really give her. “Someone else? He’s bored with things and doesn’t know how to tell me? He’s afraid I’m messing with his head and he wants to see if he feels the same when I’m not talking? Maybe I am messing with his head without thinking about it and-”

“Y/N,” Natasha said cutting you off before you could twist yourself up in knots. “It can’t be that. Any of that.”

“Well, he won’t talk to me so,” you shrug again, “I don’t really have a way to check.”

“Why-”

“I don’t know!” you snap. And Natasha would like to snap back, but she doesn’t miss the tears welling up when you look up towards the ceiling and take a deep breath. Trying to find calm you don’t feel. So she pulls you against her chest quickly, resting her cheek on your hair. She’d like to tell you it will be okay. She’s like to give you all the empty platitudes girls tell each other to soothe broken hearts and bruised egos.  But she doesn’t. Because she’s learned better than to lie. 

_____________

Bucky poured over the files that Okoye had sent. It was thick. Okoye was good. Better than SHEILD. She’d picked up your trail and found everything you’d done, legal and illegal, to not only find your brother, but get him back. And Keep him.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. 

His chest hurt. For years, you’d been keeping SHEILD off his trail. Redirecting. Even derailing people that were looking for him. Things that could create… problems if anyone found out. 

And he realized he was in over his head. He never expected you to have a REASON to keep something like this from him. And he never expected that Clay really would be alive. And that he would know where to go to find him. 

__________

“I need your help.”

Steve and Sam both turned to look at him. Sam was glaring and Steve just looked confused. And not for the first time, Bucky wanted to know what it was like to be you. To have that extra perception of what was going on around you. To know how to read a room like that.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something but a quick look from Steve made him shut his mouth with a snap. 

“With what, Buck?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky took a deep breath and outlined everything. Snooping in your office for present ideas. The invitation to your class reunion. Finding the button. Reading the Journals… Telling them that he reached out to some contacts, careful to leave Wakanda and Okoye out of it. And hopefully out of the fall out. And the things that he’d found. 

Clay. Getting recruited by some black ops orgs after he was good. Really good. At doing what he was told. Doing spook shit. Things that were probably war crimes. Things that he was told were for the greater good and doing them to be the hero his dad had been. A mission gone wrong. Falling into someone else’s hands and spending years as a lab rat. You joining SHEILD to find him. And using all your training and all your intel to make it happen. And when you did, the compound you’d destroyed on the way out. The fact that SHEILD had even gone to investigate that occurrence. And found nothing to indicate you were ever there. And Clay. Hidden away someplace where you thought no one would ever look.

Steve listened to everything, watching Bucky carefully. And Sam looked like he was still furious but less likely to hit him. 

“So,” Steve said slowly, “You’ve been avoiding Y/N so she didn’t catch on that you know?”

Bucky nodded slowly, “I figured if she worked that hard to keep him hidden I figure getting him found would be grounds for her to knock my teeth down my throat.”

Sam exhaled slowly,  “I didn’t think she had it in her.” He shook his head. In his mind, he was picturing how much it must have hurt. Knowing you were hurting other people by letting them believe Clay was dead. 

“So, what do you want us to do?” Steve said. 

“I want to go out there,” he said slowly. 

“You think she won’t know if we pop up over there?” Sam asked. “She kept him hidden from SHEILD. The girl’s got skills. And if she didn’t put up safe guards, who’s to say Clay didn’t? We could be walking into a death trap.”

Bucky nodded, “I know,” he said quietly. “But. If we can clear his name. And bring him home… I just. I just want-”

“You want to make it worth it when she beats the hell out of you?”

And in spite of himself, Bucky smiles a little. “Yeah. I guess so.”

#Bucky x reader #Fluff #angst #insecurity #Steve Rogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes

[melwilson]

do it again - clay spenser x reader

To say you were surprised when Clay showed up at your door was an understatement. He was dressed casually in a black tee shirt and blue jeans. A nervous look covered his face, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His eyes scanned the length of your body and you were suddenly self conscious of the shorts and sweatshirt that you had chosen to wear that day. It had been a minute since the last time you two had seen each other. It was a right person, wrong time type of situation that left you both empty and alone. That was almost six months ago. Since then the two of you had only spoken a few times when he was leaving for deployment. In complete honesty, you missed Clay, but you wanted the timing to be right. You wanted to be able to support him fully while he was serving. When you first met, you were finishing school, trying to move out of your parents house, in the process of getting a job. Life was...busy, too busy for a relationship. Now, things had finally began to settle down allowing you catch a breath and take a break.

“Clay, hi.” Your voice was soft as you greeted the seal. Your familiar smile caused Clay’s heart to skip a beat as he sent you a soft smile back. “You, uh, you wanna come in?”

He nodded and you opened the door a little wider allowing him to step inside. His eyes raked over your apartment. The dark blue pillows complimented the light gray couch in the middle of the living room. Your computer and a notebook sat on the glass coffee table next to a cold cup of tea. You had always gotten too caught up in work to eat, something that Clay was constantly reminding you of. He followed you into the kitchen where he sat down at the island, taking the bottle of water you handed to him.

“So, what’s the latest with Clay Spenser?” you asked tugging on your hoodie strings. It was a habit you had when you were nervous or anxious.

“Nothing much. I got about three months off before my next deployment, thought I’d come see my favorite girl.” The light blush covering your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by the blonde. “What about you? How’s your family? How’s work?”

You sighed hopping onto the granite counter top. “I’ve been doing alright. Work is good, keeping me busy though...but at least I’m not bored.” Clay let out a soft laugh, nodding for you to continue. “My family is doing good too. They ask about you from time to time.” Your family had loved Clay and your mom was almost positive he was going to put a ring on your finger one day, but you guys never made anything official.

“I miss seeing them.”

“They miss seeing you. You should come over for dinner sometime. They’d love to have you there.” You had missed Clay more than anyone, except maybe your mom. You swore she would drop your dad in a heartbeat for Clay’s baby blue eyes. You watched as Clay remained silent, his hands rubbing the material of his jeans. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“There’s nothing wrong, Y/n.”

You shook your head, knowing that the blonde was lying. “Clay, you don’t have to lie to me. You’re doing that thing with your hands and biting your lip which you only do when you’re nervous.” You made your way over to the other side of the counter, sitting down next to the seal. “You can talk to me.”

The blonde sighed. The last week had been tough and the last thing he wanted was to be a burden. “I- um, I kinda need a place to stay...until I can get back on my feet. You’re the only person here that I could think of. I’d ask one of my teammates but they all have families. Living with my dad is not an option and neither is living in a crappy apartment 30 minutes away from base. I understand if-“

You placed a hand on Clay’s shoulders grabbing his attention. “You can stay here for as long as you need to.” You had a spare bedroom and if you needed a place to stay, you knew Clay would be the first to offer up his home. “Let’s get you settled in, yeah?” The blonde followed you down the hall to the room across from yours. It was simple and clean, just like Clay liked it. A flatscreen sat ontop of the dresser across from the bed. “Everything is empty. There’s towels, soap...pretty much anything you could possibly need in the bathroom and closet.”

“Thank you for doing this, Y/n.”

“Anything for you, Clay.”

The first two weeks of Clay staying with you was spent with you tiptoeing around each other. You both wanted to give the other space, not be a bother. Clay spent a lot of time trying to figure out your routine. You woke up between nine and ten every morning, made yourself a cup of coffee, watched the news, before making breakfast for both Clay and yourself if he wasn’t gone. You’d start your work day around eleven, answering emails. You were a travel nurse recruiter which required you to be on the phone almost 24/7. When Clay left, you were on the phone and when he got back you were on the phone. He admired you for being such a hard worker. You just wanted to make the lives of your travel nurses easier.

After the first couple of weeks, you two became more comfortable around each other.

“How was work?” Clay asked, shutting your front door. He noticed that your computer was shut and your eyes were glued to whatever Netflix show was playing on the TV.

“Exhausting,” you sighed. “What about you?”

“Have you eaten?” You rolled your eyes giving Clay your answer. “Y/n, if you’re going to overwork yourself, you have to at least promise me that you’ll eat.” He walked over to you placing a kiss on your forehead. “What do you want to eat? I’ll go pick you something up.”

“I’m alright, Clay.”

“Burgers it is. C’mon. You’re coming with me.” The blonde grabbed your hands pulling you to your feet. A small smile tugged at your lips. Clay was so kind and his love for people was so great. Despite everything that had happened to him, his heart was still so full. Slipping on your shoes, you let Clay drag you to the car your fingers intertwined with his. Even after you had gotten into the car, his hand found yours. You were kinda surprised. Over the past few weeks neither of you had engaged in physical contact, not knowing where the line crossed. However, you didn’t mind. In fact, you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t love the way Clay’s hand felt in yours.

The burger joint in downtown Virginia Beach was pretty busy, but the wait allowed you to take in the beauty around you. You hadn’t left your apartment much lately and it wasn’t until now that you realized you needed to get out more. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky a fast canvas of pinks, oranges, and blues. The sight nearly took your breath away. As more and more people crowded the downtown area, Clay had made his way behind you, his front pressed against your back. His arms hung over your shoulders, your hands playing with his as you waited for your names to be called.

“Thank you for getting me out of the house. I needed that,” you said softly sliding into the passenger seat. You had decided to stay and eat outside of the burger shack instead of taking it back to the apartment. The two of you talked about everything you could think of, from family to high school memories.

“You’re welcome,” Clay replied. “Um, hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“My dad is on his book tour and he’s stopping here tomorrow night. He wants me to go, but I- I can’t go alone.” You knew how broken Clay’s relationship was with his dad. His family had always been a touchy subject.

“I’ll be there.”

You hadn’t met Clay’s dad until that day. The amazing Ashland Spenser didn’t seem to be all that amazing. The intro that was given portrayed the former seal as someone to be worshipped. No wonder all the guys gave Clay a hard time.

“Well, who do we have here?” Ash asked, extending his hand to you. “Clay didn’t tell me had a girlfriend.”

“Oh..we’re not dating. I’m Y/n, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.” You shook the older man’s hand gently, sending him a small smile. Clay was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, tugging you into his side.

“She’s a beauty, son. Thanks for coming out tonight. Dinner soon?” Clay nodded and Ash offered him a pat on the back before excusing himself.

The blonde was quiet most of the way home. He had given you the keys to drive, so you knew that he just needed sometime to think. After you had gotten to the apartment, he silently made his way to his room and shut the door. You respected that Clay needed his space. He hadn’t seen his father in months and you knew it probably opened up old wounds. Ones that Clay thought he would have to stitch up on his own. It was over an hour later when you heard the door to Clay’s room open. You were busy over the stove cooking Clay’s favorite meal in hopes that it would cheer him up.

“It smells good in here,” the blonde complimented, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. The action made your heart skip a beat as you relished in Clay’s warmth.

“I’d hope so. I made it for you.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know,” you said cheekily turning around in Clay’s arms.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And the guys call me cocky.”

“You do come off as very self-obsorbed,” you said, as a matter of factly. Clay let out a soft laugh before letting his eyes settle on yours. “You alright?”

He knew you were referring to his dad. “Yeah, I just- seeing my dad leave just reminds me that he didn’t even try to mend things when I was younger. Now, it feels forced...like he’s doing it because it looks good.”

“I’m sorry that you have to go through that, Clay.”

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control. I’m better of without him. Besides, I’ve got everything I need right here.” The blonde squeezed your waist, tugging you closer. You two were so close that you could see the specks of greens laced in Clay’s blue eyes. You raised your head slightly, your lips brushing over the blondes. Your breath hitched in your throat as Clay’s fanned out over your face. “I- um, I’m gonna kiss you now,” Clay informed, his voice deeper than normal.

Before you could get out a reply, Clay’s lips were pressed against yours. Your lips moved together in sync, your head hazy, the feeling of Clay’s body pressed against yours clouding your mind. His hands ran the length of your torso before they settled underneath your shirt, fingers digging into your hips. You let out a groan as he pulled away, pulling his face to yours again. He laughed against your lips, placing a few pecks on the swollen skin before resting his forehead on yours. Yours eyes fluttered shut as he trailed a few kisses down your neck before meeting your lips again.

“What the hell?” Your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“What?”

“You just kissed me,” you replied.

“And I will do it again,” Clay shot back quickly, a smug smile playing on his lips.

“Please do.”

And he did.

••••

taglist! @lotsoflovefromlea @tvseriesimagine @dilangleywritesfanfic

if you were tagged it’s because i was looking for seal team fics and you guys were all that i could find! i figured i would share the love. i hope you all enjoyed this!!

#clay spenser #seal team #seal team cbs #jason hayes #ray perry #sonny quinn #max theriot

[bluemoonbeam15]

What If...

After listening to that song from the playlist, As Long As I'm Singing, I couldn't help but imagine Hopper and Molt as little kids and what they would've been like.

So...

What if the characters of A Bug's Life had met as children?

<><><><><><><><><><>

Mr. Soil led the class beside the harvesting line, "Everything is done in order. From the moment the grain is picked, up to the moment the grasshoppers take their offering."

A small hand raised in the air. Mr. Soil glanced back and sighed, "Yes, Flik?"

The child gestured to the harvesting line, "Isn't there an easier way to pick grain?"

"Now, Flik, we've talked about this. Our colony has harvested the same way for generations. We can't just--"

The sound of the shell stopped him short. All the ants panicked as Cornelius waved them on to drop off what food was left. Queen Phyllis stood next to the offering stone, looking up as the swarm of grasshoppers neared the island. "Alright everyone! Stand aside! Give them space!" she called out.

Flik had been pushed in the crowd, blocking his view of the gang landing. He squirmed through, crawling around the legs surrounding him. The last time the grasshoppers had came, he had been sick with a spring fever. It wasn't fair he always missed out on the interesting stuff around the island. No way he was missing it this time.

The gang leader, Clay, walked ahead of his gang to stand before the Queen. "Your Majesty," he nodded curtly. His eyes landed to the young girl beside her, "And who is this?"

Phyllis gently encouraged her daughter forward, "This is my daughter, Atta. She'll be taking my place once she's of age."

Clay inspected the child for a moment. Looking back to the Queen, "I wish her the best, then. Now, there are some concerns I need to talk with you about."

The gang waited patiently while the leaders conversed. "Quit shoving!" a small voice huffed. Two nymphs were pushing each other, trying to not attract the attention of their father. The smallest one rounded on his brother, "Molt, I said stop! You're gonna get us trouble!"

Molt crossed his arms, "I'm not doing anything! And keep your voice down!"

"You can't tell me what to do!"

Someone cleared their throat and they jolted. Clay glared at the two boys, "Is there a problem?"

His sons quieted down, not meeting his eyes. Hopper dared a glance, "S-Sorry, dad." Clay rolled his eyes and continued his discussion.

In the corner of his eye, Hopper saw something move in the crowd of ants. A small ant squirmed out between the forest of legs. His blue eyes widened at the sight of the gang, more in awe than fear. Hopper nudged his brother, nodding toward the kid. "Hey," Molt whispered excitedly, "he looks our age. We should talk to 'im!"

Hopper raised an eyebrow, "We can't leave the gang, remember? Dad said--"

"Aw, c'mon! We've never hung out with a different bug before. We'll be back before dad even knows we're gone."

The oldest bit his lip, looking between the young ant and his dad. "Alright, fine," he tugged on his brother's arm, "let's sneak off in the grass before anyone notices." Hopper looked back at the kid, waving an arm toward the grass.

Flik's antennae straightened and watched them sneak away from their gang. Looking around, he figured no one would notice his absence anyway. Quietly, he disappeared back into the crowd and made his way past the clearing.

The princess stood by her mother obediently. The discussion wasn't anything interesting, for her anyway. She tried really hard to pay attention, but something ended up catching her eye. A small blue form ran off into the grass. Weird...he looked an awful lot like--

She tugged on her mother's hand, "Mom, may I be dismissed?"

Phyllis nodded absentmindedly, "Yes, yes, go on."

Not a second later, Atta hurried off behind the crowd toward the grass. What was Flik up to now? It was moments like this she wished she could fly.

Hopper and Molt hid behind a blade of grass, fighting for space before peering out. None of the gang seemed to notice...yet. Footsteps caught their attention and the young ant stared wide-eyed at them. "H-Hi...I'm Flik!" he reached a hand out in nervous excitement.

"Hey, Flik!" Molt shook his hand vigorously, "Name's Molt and this is my brother, Hopper."

Hopper hesitated, Molt nudged him, "H-Hey."

Flik circled them a few times, "I've never met a grasshopper before. Actually, I've never met anyone who wasn't an ant before."

"Same! Our dad never lets us visit the city. We hear there's so many bugs there!" Molt beamed.

"That's what I've heard, too!"

Hopper wrung his hands together, looking back to where their dad stood, "I-I think we should go back. Dad might be done any minute now."

Molt brushed off his concern, "He'll probably be a while. We got plenty o' time."

"Molt, this is the first time dad's let us come with him! I really don't wanna screw it up..."

Flik cocked his head at them, "Your dad is the leader of the gang? That's so cool! What's it like?"

"It's kinda fun, really," Molt smiled, "we get to travel a lot...well, we will now that we can fly."

Hopper noticed the ant looking at him expectantly and he shrugged, "I-It's fun...I guess. What's is like being in a colony?"

The ant quirked his mouth with a shrug, "We don't travel outside the island, so not as exciting. We have a tree we can climb, though! You can see the other side of the world from it!"

"Have you climbed it?" Hopper peered up at the huge oak.

Flik scratched the back of his neck, "Well...n-no, but that's what I've heard."

"Flik?"

The kids looked as Atta spotted them. Flik yelped and hid behind Hopper, "Oh no!"

"What's wrong? Should we be hiding too?" Hopper froze as the princess came closer.

"No, it's just...I kinda like her," his voice died out at the admission. "Please don't tell her I said that!"

The princess stopped in front of the group, eyeing the two nymphs, "Aren't you two the leader's kids? Does he know you're out here?"

"Uh...," Molt glanced nervously at his brother.

Atta straightened and started walking off, "You two are gonna be in so much trouble."

"W-Wait!" Hopper landed in front of her, "please don't tell! We just wanted to talk to someone new. We've never met ants before."

She narrowed her eyes, "That's no excuse to wander off. Shouldn't you be watching your dad? Learning how this works?"

Molt furrowed his brow, "Is that why you were standing by the Queen? Are you learning too?"

"I'm in training, yes," she corrected him. "I'm the princess."

Molt gasped, "Princess?" He quickly bowed down and laid his hands on the ground, "Your Majesty, forgive me!"

Atta gave him a weird look. Confused, Hopper looked at his brother and decided to at least kneel down to her. She rolled her eyes at the two, "I'm not Queen yet, airheads. Once I am, you'll be bowing down to me."

Hopper rose an eyebrow, "Our dad didn't bow to your mom."

"Well that's gonna change when I'm Queen. Respect will be mandatory. Who's older?" she pointed between the two. Hopper nervously raised his hand. "You? Then you'll be taking your dad's place, right?" He nodded. "Then when I'm Queen, my first order of business is that you will bow to me as a sign of respect."

Molt muttered to Flik, "Bossy, isn't she?"

The young ant grinned goofily at the princess, lost to their conversation, "She's perfect."

Hopper leaned back a bit, "I...Is that really necessary?"

Atta put her hands on her hips, "Do you want an offering?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"Then you'll bow down. You might as well start now. I'll be queen before long."

"Can I kneel?"

"No, you have to bow."

Hopper tentatively lowered himself to the ground, "You ants are bossy."

"And we're stronger," she tapped him on the head, "don't forget that. You may rise...what was your name again?"

"Hopper."

"You may rise, Hopper." She finally noticed Flik, "I knew that was you sneaking off!" The boy shook himself of his stupor. "What are you doing out here?"

"W-Well, I--"

Molt came to his rescue, "That's my fault. I wanted to meet him so I pressured Hop into sneaking off."

"Hopper! Molt!" Their father's voice sounded strongly across the clearing.

Atta winced, "No kidding. Sounds like your dad is mad."

"That's not even close," Hopper rubbed his arm.

"Well at least we got to make some new friends!" Molt shook Flik's hand.

Hopper gave Atta a look, "Sorta."

The princess crossed her arms, "So long as you respect me, I'll let you be my friend."

"I guess I can do that," Hopper shrugged. He waved to Flik, "Maybe we can hang out next season? S-So long as dad lets us come again."

Flik beamed, "Yeah, totally! I can show you guys my hiding place!"

Clay yelled again, "You boys better get over here, pronto!"

"See ya two next season!" Molt hurried off before their dad would have another reason to punish them.

Hopper gave a small smile to the ants, bowing slightly to Atta, "Bye."

The ants watched the nymphs run off. "They seem nice," Atta mused, "I hope they get to come back next year."

"Me too."

#a bugs life #pixar #flik #atta #molt #hopper #phyllis #what if #they would be so cute tho #i wanna draw this now #atta's confidence tho #fanfiction

[duskroads]

Angie build update Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Oops haven’t been updating that much, but here’s how far I am! I haven’t closed any of the loops because I’m not gonna permanently attach things until everything’s painted which is why there are extra wires everywhere.

My Dad is still working on the internals so I can’t work on the head or finish the neck just yet.

Close ups and trials and tribulations under the readmore

Close ups first!

Hands, the fingers aren’t glued in yet so they kept falling out as I tried to get this shot.

Upper and Lower arms, I’m still debating the order of operations on the cuffs on her wrists, I think I’m going to add the worbla after I varnish them but before I paint. Maybe. We’ll see.

Legs

And Feet, I put down the sand paper down to stop the terrible glare that’s on my table and it was the closest thing available, but it confused my camera about colours, the feet are the same colour as everything else, not weirdly blue.

And the torso

Now for all the issues I had with getting this far.

First off, the original hooks I had in the shoulder sockets were way way way too long. Unfortunately I only figured this out after I had put a few layers of clay on it.

And knowing myself I wouldn’t be satisfied unless I fixed it, so

Here’s a comparison of the old piece to the new

So a significant difference, and honestly were I making her again I probably would have gone even smaller, but uh, not redoing it again from here.

The good thing this taught me is that this clay is super durable because it was a huge pain to try and break it away so that’s good at least?

Fast forward a few more layers of clay and things that I realize that cracks that I’ve been trying to patch as I’ve been adding clay in other areas actually go all the way through to the inside.

Most of them aren’t too concerning, except for this one. 

At this point I’m just keeping an eye on it and making sure it doesn’t grow larger. This is foreshadowing for later issues.

But for now let’s look at the limbs for a bit.

What I did to keep all of the limbs separate was to cut some marks into the end of the wires that are eventually going to get cut off after I wrap them around to close the ends.

I did this because otherwise I was probably going to get the pieces mixed up extremely quickly

The next big issue was with the fingers, I realized that this clay wasn’t going to be able to do fine enough detail for me to sculpt them directly from the clay, so I decided to just make a blobs of clay and dremel them into shape.

The issue is, I made this decision while I was adding the second layer of clay to them (there was no way I was going to be able to scuplt it without at least one layer of base to keep it from falling apart as I tried to get details in.

However, this stuff tends to form air pockets in between layers, this fact has become the biggest frustration with this clay, and here is where it starts to become really apparent.

so at this point my options were

1) continue with this set of fingers, knowing that they are full of air pockets and would need some serious patching afterwards

2) create new blobs all in one layer and then dremel them down again

3) switch to polymer clay, which is much more fragile, but much better at detail

I ended up going with option 3 there, option 2 probably would have gone fine as well, but chances of success were much more sure with the polymer clay.

Don’t be fooled by my sudden jump to all 10 fingers this took like 3 days of not doing much else other than sculpting fingers to get done, I am not a professional with sculpting so I am taking extra time to get it to look right.

At this point I’ve got everything up to the neck on the torso sanded down, and there’s some stuff to patch. That in itself is not a surprise, however, I realize that an area that I’ve been trying to patch has a giant air pocket in it. Yup that issue again.

I pulled off everything that was flexing when I pushed on it, but you can see from the pencil line just how far I’m estimating the pocket goes.

Once that was patched and sanded back down it seems to be alright in that area at least but that was a bit of a scare.

However, the more times I put this thing in the oven, the more cracks are appearing in the same locations. And I realized that, because this piece is too tall to fit in my oven and I had to lay it down and do a front layer and then a back layer for every layer I put on, the cracks were appearing along those lines, and the ones where I did the shoulder surgery.

The cracks aren’t all that easy to see in the photos so here they are both plain and with me drawing over the photos so you can see where they are.

And while these cracks are fairly fine they go all the way through to the hollow inside. The chicken wire inside should keep things together alright, but what I’m going to do is after I varnish it I’m going to put some strong glue in there and paint over it, just to be safe.

I dremeled down the shoes, (needed some patching on the toe of this one) and I was planning to hand file down the design on the top of them, just to prove I could.

but of course there’s an air pocket under the raised portion of one of them that I find out about once I’m half way through filing. You can see it’s under the center of the design, and by the fact that the spoke I was working on just fell off.

I dremeled them off, I’ll be using 3D fabric paint for them when I get to the painting stage.

After that I hand sanded down the fingers, because the dremel would be too aggressive on the polymer clay and leave behind so much scraping that it might show through the paint, and that took a few days to get done.

Before and after sanding

That’s where I am right now.

Next steps are paint tests (already started) and in between the 600 years of drying time on those I’m working on the mock up for my shirt.

I’m gonna try (try, no promises) to give more frequent updates even if I haven’t gotten a huge step done just so I don’t end up doing such a huge dump of stuff every time.

#duskroads cosplays #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #resident evil village

[votederpycausemufins]

helleborusangel where hath your ramblings gone. your ramblings my beloved. Sorry for the late chapter today, had a dip in motivation and then tech issues, but it’s longer than last one so hopefully that makes up for it. also pinging @petrichormeraki like always.

(also slightly warning, uh... how do i say this? it’s not explicit or really sexual so... horniness warning? idk. it’s near the end)

They had done their best to help Grum out, but when they turned him back on, he still was out of it. At the very least, Fundy had been glad to see that a face that matched Jrum’s, but blue, replaced the smiley face. Well, that wasn’t all true. Sometimes it flickered back, but that was better than staying looking like Dream’s mask.

Speaking of the admin, he had sent a message to Fundy, leaving the fox looking around, trying to learn where Dream had been hiding, because he obviously saw or heard what had been going on. Fundy reluctantly said goodbye to the bots, leaving them alone with each other.

Jrum was happy to hug onto his brother. “I’m glad you’re doing better!”

Grum nodded before looking at the top of Jrum’s head. “May I have your shears? I assume you still have them with you.”

“Yeah! Sure!” Jrum pulled his favorite shears out and handed them to his brother. His smile turned to confusion as he was pushed down slightly to make him crouch. He could hear the shears being used, and then a sudden sharp pain before it disappeared. “Ow! Be careful!”

“Did I manage to cut your antenna as well?”

“Yeah! It hurt!”

“I apologize, but something was tied around it.” Grum replied, letting Jrum stand up again before holding out a small red vine.

“Oh! One of those pretty plants! It must have gotten up there when I was exploring that cave.” Jrum took the vine and looked it over. “I think I can still pot it with the other sprouts I have.”

“You… have more?”

“Yep!” Jrum replied before going over to a furnace and throwing his clay in to cook. “It kinda looks like nether plants, but at the same time not? It’s slightly more redstony colored!”

“I suppose that is why you would be a fan of it.”

Jrum paused. What did Grum mean by that? It… It almost sounded like an insult. “What?”

“Redstone isn’t very useful.”

“Not that- What are you talking about?! We’re made of redstone and it’s Daddy’s job to work with it! It’s very useful!”

“”It takes too much time and it’s easy to break. Besides, what are you going to do? Make a secret door with it? People can still break through it.”

Jrum frowned. “Don’t say that!”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No it’s not! Shut up! Or I could just make it so you can’t charge yourself!”

“Fine, live in an unfinished house by yourself. I’m sure you’ll be so safe with your diamonds. It’s not like anyone will want those for themselves.”

“I… They won’t be able to take them. I kept them when we respawned unlike most of my stuff. So even if they kill me, they can’t get them!”

“And so what? You’ll just keep them there? I thought you only had five slots in that chest of yours. What happens when you have something more important, or they’re out and you’re using them.” Grum asked, noticing how one of Jrum’s hands moved slightly. “Or are you fine losing that stupid toy of yours?”

“Don’t say that!” Jrum yelled and shoved his brother over. “It’s not stupid! Dad gave it to me and that makes it important!”

“If its connection to him is so important, he’s the one important. But let’s see, he’s not here. We’ve been here days and he hasn’t shown up. At this point, he probably won’t. And you know why?” Jrum refused to answer or guess, so Grum continued. “Because he doesn’t love us. He’s perfectly fine abandoning us. We’re not even the first one he’s done this too. He. Does. Not. Care.”

Jrum started tearing up before running off crying. Grum didn’t go after his brother and instead went back to work on the house, leaving Jrum on his own again. The younger robot was planning to go back to Puffy, but on the way there, he changed his mind. He changed his path and eventually ended up in the cave again. He nearly tripped over a large vine on the floor, but it was almost like it moved slightly so he didn’t. 

The robot went a bit deeper into the cave than he had when he first found it, following the vines on the ground until he reached the mass that the plants were coming from, the red, egg shaped plant towering over Jrum’s small size. It ever so slightly reminded Jrum of the heart of his daddy’s base. That thing was a sort of living machine as well, and he kept forgetting to feed it. He barely cared about it. And now that he and Grum were gone as far as their dads were concerned, it honestly made sense they wouldn’t come looking.

Jrum sat down next to the egg thing and curled up. He looked around and made sure no one was around before pulling out his special diamond block and hugging it. “I wanna go home…” and then he slowly went into sleep mode.

As Grum worked on building, he shut off a number of his functions, the most prominent one being his emotions. He had hurt his brother, but it was necessary. Something was wrong, and he didn’t know what. He didn’t want to hurt his brother, but he did so it couldn’t be worse. For all he knew, he could suddenly start attacking his brother. Even if this did lead to them on opposites sides of conflict, it would be for the better.

Grum paused in his building to check his battery. It was high, but not that close to full charge, which was odd. It currently felt like he was tired and needed to move to a reduced power mode, but also like he was fully charged and slightly buzzy with the energy.

Blacklist check. Attempting Entry: JoeHills. Assigned roles: Hermittown member, Acknowledged associate family, Operator, Higher Being of Unknown Origin. Banned roles: Hermittown member. Acknowledged associate family. Continue blacklist.

Blacklist check activated. Increase displacement by 2%. Displacing. Displacement complete. Displacement at 41.5% total.

Grum shook his head after realizing he was zoning out. Maybe he should go into sleep mode. The second floor was almost complete at this point. Once it was done, the place just needed to be decorated. The robot hopped down to the ground off the partially built roof, ignoring the damage he took, then went inside. He put the blocks away in a nearby chest, making sure it was organized and hopefully wouldn’t lead to a chest monster. Once everything was stored, Grum hopped onto his bed and started to shift to sleep mode.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in sleep mode exactly, but Grum knew it wasn’t long when something woke him up. Specifically from someone coming inside the house. “What, back so soon? Let me guess, you’re low on charge again.”

“I don't really have that.” A voice that wasn’t Jrum’s spoke up and Grum sat up to see Dream.

“I apologize. My brother and I got into a fight.” The robot said, flopping back down

There was a short moment of silence and Grum could imagine the admin shrugging. “It’s fine. Not many people get along all the time here.” Part of Grum wanted to doubt this guy. There was always something off about him, but at the same time… “I see your place is almost done.”

“Yes it is.”

Grum could imagine a nod. “It’s impressive. You only started two days ago and it’s already almost done even at this size.”

Two days ago? That didn’t sound right. He had started… today? But then how had he…? : ) No, that’s right, two days ago. “Can I ask why you’re visiting?”

“Well, you and your brother showing up is pretty interesting. And even though we have people of all kinds here, no one’s a robot.”

“Well now my brother and I are here and we are.” Grum replied, finally sitting back up, knowing the conversation wasn’t ending anytime soon.

“Yeah. Makes me wonder how much we can figure out from you two. Like there’s one thing I figured out which is pretty interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“Hmm… you know I think it’s actually two.”

Grum rolled his eyes. “Yes, and those would be?”

“The first is you can’t remember the last few minutes before you crashed.” Dream said, leaning in the doorway as if what he said was something simple like ‘I saw a cloud’ or ‘it’s almost night time’. It stunned Grum and made him take a moment in processing it. He had trouble remembering before crashes? How did the admin know that? Had he seen it happen? I mean, he would have-

“The second is for some reason you tend to crash when that one person Fundy knows gets mentioned. I think his name is… Iskall?”

For a moment, Grum could almost hear the grin of the admin, before everything went magenta, then black.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in sleep mode exactly, but Grum didn’t think it had been that long when something woke him back up. Specifically from someone coming inside the house. “What, back so soon? Let me guess, you’re low on charge again.”

“Uh, yeah he is.” An unfamiliar voice spoke.

Jrum was slightly jostled from sleep mode when something moved him. He wanted to get up and move to see what it was, but the 12% battery he had left didn’t really give him much cause to try. Instead he just shifted slightly to tell whatever was disturbing him that he had woken up.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not planning to hurt you.” A voice spoke, and they sounded really nice, so Jrum was pretty sure they were telling the truth. “You look a little tired. I don’t have a bed with me, but maybe some food will help?”

Jrum half comprehended the apple that was moved into his vision. He knew it was red and that it was supposed to feed him, so he weakly grabbed it and smacked it against his monitor screen. When he wasn’t able to eat it, Jrum whined, and a moment later the apple was taken back. “I guess no food then. Let’s find you a bed instead. My place is right nearby, so we can use that!”

“B-b-battery.” Jrum stuttered out, clinging to the fabric of whatever this person was wearing. His power conservation was making it hard to talk, but he was trying his best. “N-need ch-charge.”

“Argh! And it’s not a thunderstorm. What are we supposed to do instead?”

“H-house. Ch-charger.”

“Okay, where’s that?”

Jrum didn’t try answering verbally and just sort of tilted his head so the screen could be seen, displaying coordinates on it. He heard the person repeat it a few times before he darkened the screen again to conserve power.

He could feel the slight bounce from being in the person’s arms as they walked, and while at first it was a little jarring to him, it slowly felt more and more like it was being rocked. He kept expecting feathers to gently brush against him as his dad held him, but it didn’t come. He just fell back asleep.

His brother yelling at him unfortunately woke him back up and Jrum was clinging to his dad again. Grum was scolded, and Jrum realized it wasn’t his dad. He could feel himself being set on a bed and some fumbling around. “Where do I plug this thing in?” Jrum held out his hand and was given the charger cord before plugging it into his port, glad to be charging now that he was all the way down to 4%. 

“You should really build yourself one.”

Jrum didn’t respond, just charging, but the person replied for him. “Can’t you share? I mean you both live here.”

“I’d rather we not. He’ll just taint it with redstone everywhere or those little plants of his.”

That was enough for Jrum to respond. “Uggggh! Shut up and let me charge!”

“You’re the one in my house.”

“It’s our house!”

“Our house? I’m the one who built it. You didn’t even make that whole charger yourself, you got my help as well as Sam’s.”

“Well I need the charger just as much as you!” Jrum yelled, sitting up, and immediately regretting doing that as it felt like his head was spinning. “Stop being so selfish!”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“Hey! Language! And don’t talk to your brother like that!” The person said. Jrum was glad they said something, because Jrum just started crying again. Tommy… he cursed a lot. Doc also did plenty. Ren wasn’t quite as bad, but often you could catch him catching himself. Jrum had heard Xisuma throw a few curses out here and there, and even though his dads tried their best, because he was around them so much, Jrum had heard them curse. But this was different. 

He had never heard- okay that wasn’t true. Grum had cursed a few small times, but usually it was something small and when he was more upset at a mistake he made. But this? Grum yelling at him? That had never happened before. Plus, sure Grum tended to be the slightly more mature of them, trying to talk properly and ended up seeming much more robotic, but Jrum knew his brother could be playful and kind too. But recently he had seemed so cold and upset. It was like Jrum didn’t even know his brother.

As Jrum was hugged by the person who had been helping him, neither of them knew what was going on in Grum’s mind as he came to the same thought. It was if he didn’t even know himself.

“Oi! Stop being such a fucking bitch!” Tommy yelled as he flinched away from another piece of TNT Grifter had placed and Tommy had almost run into. “I still don’t know if I’ll fucking respawn!”

“I said you will!” Grifter said, holding back evil giggles.

Tommy grumbled before taking another stick from his inventory and chucking it at the explosive material after walking a few more blocks. The moment the stick touched it, the TNT exploded, leaving a hole behind. 

“I still don’t understand why the fuck we’re here and not back in Helscraft. I thought you wanted to see your boyfriend.”

“He's not my boyfriend, he’s my husband.” Grifter corrected. “And I said there’s something we need to pick up first.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but continued to follow the hels avian since he didn’t want to get stranded here. “So, you’re also an avian like Grian.”

“Yes I am.” Grifter responded along with a flutter of his wings. “And?”

“Well it’s prettt fucking obvious Grian’s a parrot. I know my Phil’s a crow. The Phil here looked basically the same, but if it’s something else maybe a raven? I heard they have really similar wings. But what are yours?”

“Magpie. And yeah, dad’s a raven.”

“Cool, cool.” Tommy nodded, trying to think of something else to ask. “Uh, what exactly are we after?”

“Aww, don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck no. For all I know it’s some trap to try and kill me.”

“I would never!” Grifter said sarcastically. “It’s just something I’m sure Sense wants to see just as much as me. I put them here just before getting trapped and made sure you couldn’t get them again without going to the right coordinations.”

“And how much further do we still need to go?”

“Not much. I could have been there ages ago if I wasn’t dragging you along.”

“You’re the one who kept putting down TNT!”

Grifter responded to that comment by placing down another piece of the explosive, Tommy running into it this time and it lighting, the teen desperately running away before it actually exploded.

“You bird bitch!”

“Oh shut up, we’re here.”

Tommy looked around and saw nothing. “And what’s here?”

Grifter didn’t answer, just smiled as the ground shifted and part of it started to rise from the ground, slowly shifting into an elongated spiral. Tommy watched as the material shifted into bedrock and then magic emanated from it with green particles. Grifter went over and reached a hand in, then a second, and the. He put his whole head in as he continued to look for whatever was on the other side of… Tommy was pretty sure it was a portal.

“THEY’RE AWAKE!” Grifter shouted at the top of his lungs when he pulled his head out again, scaring Tommy and making him fall over in panic.

“Man, what the fuck, don’t do shit like that!”

Grifter didn’t answer, just went back into the portal, this going through time all the way up to his hips. He was short enough his legs were just left flailing around as he tried to reach something on the other end. An arm started to come back and Tommy was surprised it was dragging something along. “What the fuck. Is that Jrumbot?!”

Grifter came back dragging along what looked to be Grumbot. “Oh? They exist in your world? That helps explain it. But no, these are Sefter and… did we ever give the second one a name?”

“You and your version of Mumbo built these?”

“No, not really.”

“Then did you find them somewhere or some shit.”

Tommy regretted asking when Grifter looked at him with a smirk. “You see, when two people love each other a lot, they end up taking all their clothes off and-”

“Don’t you fucking continue with that! And how do you even make something like that when you two are not that?! Wait, never mind. My brother had a fox with a fish.”

“Huh, not adopted then? Good to know. But yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard the parrots and the bats before. And these two came out of one very wonderful night-” “I said don’t talk about it!” “-though they didn’t seem right and so we tried checking them out, but nothing. Then I sort of got a bounty on my head and I hid them away here!”

“So you just had versions of Grum and Jrum before they were built?!”

“Uh, I suppose so. It’s a shame they had to build them and not-“

“Can you please fucking stop and just get us to Helscraft.”

“Of course! I’m sure the kids will love to see their papa.”

“I would ask another question, but I think I know the answer.”

“I can tell you’re right.” Grifter smirked before taking them to Helscraft. “Oh Evil X! Guess who’s back in town!” There was no answer and he pouted. “Hello? Where’s the fun of showing up if no one is here to freak out?”

“Uh, going to see the person you came to visit? Tommy suggested. 

“Well yeah, but I don’t know where he is while you do.” Grifter crossed his arms before looking up at the sky. A few moments later, the reddish purplish hue of the shy shifted into the same color of an ender pearl, maybe a bit brighter. “There, that should let people know I’m here. Now where’s Sense?”

“Uh… we go through the portal on the main island, follow a path with blue clouds until we get to NPG’s place. We pick up something to let us breathe, and then you go right.”

“You go… right? Like is that east? West? North or south?”

Tommy shrugged. “Dunno. It’s just right.”

“Alright fine, just show me where we’re going before everyone shows up to try and trap me again. Come on boys!” Grifter called to the two robots who had been running around who quickly came back over to him. “And maybe on the way I can think of a name for you.” Grifter booped where a nose would be on the hels version of Jrum.

As Tommy guided them, Grifter spent the time brainstorming ideas for names while ignoring all the mobs that were trying to kill them. Tommy did his best to fight off the monsters, but he still didn’t have much gear, still only having what was salvaged from the one room in the prison.

“So obviously my other side and I had the same idea with names, so something based on that, but I’m not sure what would fit there. Do I just use a d as well for defter?”

Tommy shot another of the living cloud things out of the sky, wishing the thing had infinity since he was down to seven arrows. “It was actually a J, but I guess it does sound like Drum instead of Jrum sometimes.”

“Hmm, you’re right, I can sort of hear a difference. Now, I could also do something else… Where did the J come from again?”

“It was from the word junior I think.” Tommy said before needing to dodge an attack, nearly being hit by a second in the process. “You think you want to help out at all?!”

“They’re aggroed on you, not us, so it’s fine. Hmm, maybe something that’s a synonym?”

“Well if I die to these things, then they’ll be after you!”

“Ugh, fine.” Grifter rolled his eyes and summoned some gear for Tommy. “Put on the armor and use that instead of a bow. It works better and is less affected by gravity.”

Tommy took the armor and put it on before looking at the tube he had been given along with a bunch of darts. He tried firing a few of them, but he just kept missing. “I’d prefer arrows over these things!” Tommy shouted back, making the Listener get closer and use some magic on the bow, giving it infinity.

“There? Happy? Now maybe Befter for Brother? Brefter? Hmm, younger Yefter? No, that sounds stupid. I could try another name mix? But already used Sefter and while Pergrift sounds nice, that’s supposed to be our name. Maybe Grifter then Sense? Grise? Grense? Or maybe use Perfect instead and get Grifect. Oh yes! Grifect! Sefter and his little brother Grifect! Oh it’s just right!”

“Great! Now that you figured it out can you please just fucking help out and shit?!”

Grifter rolled his eyes, but did start to help, but he also gave the two helsbots some weapons to see what they could do. Grifect did okay, but Sefter seemed to take to it like a fish to water. Tommy thought it was even a little scary how well the kid was doing. But at the very least it kept them safe while traveling and they were able to move faster, arriving at NPG’s base before too long. 

Grifter refused to take a single step into the place, claiming NPG was his mortal enemy or something, so Tommy was the one to go inside and find what they needed. Rifling through chests, Tommy found some wood called skyroot, and used that to make a chest and sign, dumping the stuff from the prison into it. He then put a sign on the front of the chest for NPG for whenever he got back. ‘Theseus replace me. needed gear. Srry about grifte. Tommy’.

It was a little hard to get the message out while fitting it on the sign, but Tommy hoped it would be enough. He then went over to the nearby armor stands and took armor from the stand that had a set of purple armor as well as an elytra. Based on what Tommy had seen people wearing the short time he had been there, he was pretty sure the pink armor was the equivalent to netherite here, but diamond equivalent would do fine and he didn’t want to steal good armor.

After that he went looking for tools and weapons and food. He grabbed a sword, pick, axe and the masks he came in here for in the first place. During his search, he also grabbed what seemed to be a special crossbow, some more arrows, fireworks, blocks for making bridges, and some food. Finally, just to be completely safe, not knowing how long he would be stuck with all this gear, Tommy also grabbed a wooden bucket filled with water in case of MLG jumps, and a shulker box that he emptied out into other nearby chests.

Out of all the things he was glad to grab, Tommy didn’t expect the water bucket to come in handy so soon, but when he left the base, he was greeted with Grifter putting TNT down to blow the place up. The teen rushed to each of the explosives and covered them with water before detonating them, which left Grifter upset, but at the very least he didn’t seem to try it again.

“Okay, now time to go find Sense.” Tommy spoke up, getting Grifter to stop being as angry as before. He led them on the same path NPG had taken them on the initial visit, eventually leading them to the bridge of purple clouds. Tommy showed the hels avian what he was supposed to do, but instead he just picked up one of the kids and flew them over before grabbing the other and doing the same, leaving Tommy wondering why he hadn’t just used his elytra.

From there, they walked further ahead until they saw a small house. The moment Tommy pointed at it, Grifter raced off towards it, yelling at the top of his lungs. “SEESEE!!! I’M BACK!!!” And just as he was reaching the building, Sense was coming through the door and got tackled by Grifter. Tommy was left to catch up, dragging the kids behind him, glad that this place seemed to be permanently devoid of mobs and he didn’t need to deal with any of them too.

The teen honestly didn’t know what he expected when he found the two helsmits still on the ground kissing each other. The only thing that Tommy didn’t expect at all was the green magic around them, and when Grifter finally pulled away, the teen was surprised to see the scar that had been on Sense’s neck was gone now. “Did… Did you just fucking kiss him to heal him?”

“I mean, I didn’t need to…” Grifter started.

“Oh but it was definitely the best way.” Sense finished for him, sitting up. “And are those who I think they are?”

Grifter jumped back up. “Yes! They were kept perfectly safe and now they’re even active!” He pulled the robot kids over to introduce them. “This one’s Sefter as I believe you probably remember, and now this one is named Grifect. Unless you think another name would do well.”

“No, it fits quite well.” Sense replied before pulling Grifter close to him again. “And you said they’re active? How did you manage that? Was it all those planning sessions?”

“Oh no, I’d never manage to pull off the things you could. It just seems that they showed up before they had counterparts, and now they’re working with them.”

“Ugh, must we be the alternates and not the originals?”

“For all you know, that could mean we end up like those prude mirror versions of ourselves.”

“Hmm, I would miss the mind blowing s-”

“O-Kay! Since you’re together, does this mean I can get back home now? I got you out of prison and now got you to your husband, so now it’s your turn!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re going to need to find EX because I can’t get you there without extra help.”

Tommy’s eyes widened in shock, then anger. “Are you telling me I did all of this shit for you and you can’t fucking do anything?!”

“Hey, I got you out of season four. You couldn’t have done that alone. But I’m just a Listener. If I had help from someone else like a Watcher, then maybe I could do something. EX is an admin, a hacker, is linked to Hermitcraft and that dimension from his brother and the fact that he’s not 100% biologically a hels being.”

Tommy grumbled. “Fine, but can you at least teleport me to him so I don’t have to try and find him myself?”

“No he can’t. He’s not around.” Sense spoke up. “Word went out that he’s off visiting Hermitcraft again.”

“Again? How long has he been going?”

“Since a few months ago when NPG pulled someone over. The message goes out every once and a while leaving someone else in charge. With the bastard that attacked me gone to visit family, Prof’s the one in charge.”

“He’s actually not gone for family. The bitch replaced me instead.”

Sense raised an eyebrow at that. “Is that so? My my, and that lead to Grifter getting out. Wouldn’t it be fun to him coming back and finding someone else in his place.”

“Look, I’m sure you two want plenty of time with each other to do evil and gross things, but unless you can figure something out, I’m gonna bother you two until you fucking do something!”

Grifter rolled his eyes before pulling away from Sense. “Alright fine you little shit. We’ll figure something out. And if we can’t, then we can kill you instead.”

Tommy started backing up. “Uh, did I say bother you two, I meant, I’ll ask politely every once and a while. I’m sure that sounds good, right?”

“No no, Gri’s got a point.” Sense smiled. “With you gone you’ll be gone from Hermitcraft for good, and when that happens, well, the same thing will happen to Theseus. Making sure he can’t try anything more.”

“Aww, c’mon. Maybe since he’s there and I’m here, it won’t work?” Tommy asked in a somewhat pleading tone. “Please don’t kill me.”

Grifter pulled out a piece of TNT, ready to use it on Tommy, when Grifect tugged on his tunic shirt. “Aww, what do you want sweetie? Do you want to have fun with him first?”

“Wouwdn’t uwu wanna huwt the pewson who huwt papa fiwst instead of him?”

Tommy was very conflicted by that. On one hand, it looked like this kid was going to save his life. On the other, did they really need to do it by dealing him who knows how many points of psychic damage? “Uh, yeah, listen to the kid.” ‘Either to make you change your mind or make your ears bleed.’ He continued in his mind.

“Aww, my little pumpkin is already talking!” Grifter cooed, and the second option went out the window. “Well do you have any ideas on what to do?”

“Maybe hacking awnd wistenew powews wowking togethew cawn wowk!” Grifect answered and now Tommy was wondering if maybe death wouldn’t be all that bad. 

“Oh my! Are you telling me you know how to hack! That is wonderful! Oh Sense it’s like the perfect family!”

“Well it’s my family, so of course it is.”

“Yes, everything with you is perfect. Perfect plans, perfect family, perfect-”

“Oh my god please just kill me so I don’t have to listen to this anymore.” Tommy groaned. Fortunately, that seemed to work because apparently he kept ‘killing the mood’ anyway. Within a few moments, Tommy felt like he was falling even though everything around his was a weird purple color. And then suddenly, his feet were on the ground and he was standing in what seemed to be a large empty building. And based on the noises coming outside, said building was in the nether.

“Ugh. Well, at least I still have the fucking gear.”

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #grumbot #jrumbot #itsfundy #dreamwastaken #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic #the blood vines #badboyhalo #tommyinnit #helscraft #helsmits #hels!grian #hels!Mumbo #hels!Grumbot #hels!jrumbot

[skiller0dani]

Abandon Ship | Monty De La Cruz

M A S T E R L I S T Timothy Granaderos Masterlist

smut requests info

important notice:  13 reasons why covers some really heavy stuff and their material can be extremely triggering. seeing as my writing is supposed to be for fun only I won’t be including many of the topics seen in the show. in fact, unless I say otherwise most of all my writings for this show will take place before Hannah Bakers suicide. if you or a loved one ever needs to seek professional help please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. 

also: MONTY DESERVED BETTER AND HE WAS A VICTIM AS WELL YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. mkay that’s all. enjoy, my loves xx

why are all the men named timothy hot as hell??? first timothee chalamet and now timothy granaderos?? wtf???

You doubt Monty knew you were Alex’s twin sister. At least you hoped he didn’t, because if he did and continued to beat Alex to a pulp then that would show how much you actually matter to him. You held a bandage in your hand, carefully dabbing at Alex’s eye which was split open. “Don’t tell Dad.” You nearly laughed at how ludicrous his request was. Alex looked as though he’d gone 4 rounds with a boxer, there was no way Dad wasn’t going to notice. “I can’t cover this with makeup Al, Dad is going to notice.” You tell him and you see the subtle eye roll and the oncoming lecture he knew he would receive. His eye was swollen shut, and there were cuts and bruises all over his face. “So what did you say to piss Monty off?” You ask, you know your boyfriend pretty well. He’d been trying to get a handle on his anger management issues and normally he could keep it together...unless provoked. In no way was what Monty did to Alex justifiable, but you knew Alex could get fired up and he says shit without thinking. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change the fact that your boyfriend is a psychopath.” Alex says with a heavy sigh as he shoves past you out of the bathroom. 

“Like how do you know he won’t turn that anger on you someday?” Alex says, both anger and concern deep in his eyes as he watches you. You begin to clean up the bandages and bloody rags, “Monty would never hurt me. He loves me.” You argue gently, you trust Monty with your life. Alex scoffs and you can tell he’s still stood behind you. “So he says. I don’t know how you trust him at all.” With that last grumble Alex retreats back to his bedroom, leaving you to finish cleaning the bathroom. When your Dad gets home, you know he’s going to ask where Alex is. Although it’s not unusual for Alex to hide away in his room these days, he’s getting...angrier than he used to be. You heard the kids at Liberty High whispering about what happened, Alex picked a fight with Monty. Alex approached him first, Alex egged him on. Alex knows about Monty’s explosive temper so why on Earth would he do that? 

“Hey honey, where’s your brother?” Your Dad smiles as he presses a kiss to your head. You return his hug as he wraps his arms around you, “room.” You tell him simply and when he releases you to head for Alex’s room you wait for the yelling to start. After the door opens, it does’t take long for the bomb to go off and soon they’re screaming at each other. Your Dad is obviously very upset that someone nearly beat Alex half to death, but you get upset after Alex opens his mouth and a barrage of words spill out. “It’s only because of Y/N’s freak boyfriend! He’s a fucking lunatic, he’s the one who did this to me! How could you let her date someone like that?” As soon as the words leave his lips he sees the shift in Deputy Standall. Your eyes widen, first of all your Dad didn’t even know you were dating anybody. Second of all, this is his very first impression of Monty. “Alex you are such an asshole!” You yell as you slam your bedroom door before propping your office chair against it to keep it closed. 

The next morning you emerged from your room only when Monty texted that he was out front. This is the first time Monty has picked you up from your house but you figured it was time he knew who your family was. Your Dad was of course waiting for you by the front door with a look of both concern and anger on his face. “Y/N why didn’t you tell me and your Mom you were seeing anybody? I don’t want you to see him again, look what he did to your brother.” Your Dad said sternly but you shook your head forcefully as you pulled your shoes on. “Well I’m pretty sure Alex left out the part where he egged Monty on. Alex started the fight Dad. That fight was both of their faults. I don’t want to be late for school.” You snapped as you shoved past your Dad and out to Monty’s car. Offering a smile, Monty noticed right away that something was off with you. You slid into the passenger seat as Monty leaned over to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “What’s up with you baby?” He asks, genuine concern in his eyes. He looked up and spotted Deputy Standall standing in the doorway and his eyes widened. 

“Woah shit, is that your Dad?” Monty asks as he pulls off down the street. You’re silent in the passenger seat, your arms crossed. Your silent treatment and tense body language is starting to freak Monty out as he fidgets with a seam on his jeans. “Baby did I do something?” He asks, his panicked eyes glancing over at you. You smiled bitterly as you turn your head to look at him, “yeah Monty you did. You beat my twin brother to a pulp yesterday.” You snap and Monty looks confused for a second before a look of understanding dawns on his face. “Alex is your brother? Ah shit baby, I’m sorry I didn’t know.” Monty says with a sigh as he pulls into his usual parking spot at the school. You stay silent, but honestly you feel a bit relieved that he didn’t know. Monty turns to you and takes your hand, “I’m sorry Y/N. Is uh is he okay?” Monty asks but from the tension seeping into his voice you can tell he really doesn’t care if Alex is okay or not. You exit the car, with Monty not too far behind you as he slings your bag over his shoulder. Just like he does every morning. 

“What was the fight about?” You ask, remembering how Alex completely avoided the question when you tried to ask him. Monty looks uncomfortable as his hand slides into yours, your eyebrows pinch together. “Monty.” Your voice is angrier then you intended but you were angry. Why wont either of them tell you what’s going on? You pulled your hand from Monty’s and snatched your bag from his shoulder. “I have to go meet with Jess.” You snap angrily as you stomp down the hallway, leaving a very dejected Monty behind. You spent most of the rest of the day avoiding Monty and Alex, having had enough of both of them. Monty leaned back against the lockers, his eyes on you as you stood and chatted with Clay. “Yeah I saw the fight from yesterday, Monty went kind of crazy.” Clay commented, and you sighed while pinching the bridge of your nose. You had been really good friends with Clay since 6th grade and you can honestly say he’s one of your closest friends. “Neither of them will tell me what happened either. It’s pissing me off.” You grumble, catching Monty’s agitated gaze. Clay shut his locker and turned to face you, “I think I heard one of them say your name but I’m not sure. Anyway I should go, Monty looks like he wants to kill me.” Clay says, his eyes also meeting Monty’s before he turns and heads down the hall. 

You roll your eyes at Monty and you turn to follow the path Clay took when you feel a hand wrap around your arm. You’re not at all surprised to see Monty forcefully, but gently, dragging you to a supply closet. When he shuts the door behind you two, you can practically feel the frustration coming from him. “The fuck Y/N! I said I was sorry about Alex I don’t know what else you want from me.” Monty snapped, crossing his arms as you glare up at him. “And seriously, Jensen? You avoid me all day and I see you hanging out with fucking Clay Jensen.” Monty snaps, and while most people would see anger you can see a flicker of insecurity flash behind his eyes. “Monty what I want is the truth. What happened with Alex? You know Clay is my friend Mon, he doesn’t mean anything to me.” You tell him gently, your anger melting away when you see how big of an issue this is for him. “You wanna know what happened with Alex? Fine! What happened was that he reminded me how bad I am for you, how fucking badly I’m going to fuck up your life.” Monty snapped, nothing but fear and self-hatred pooling in his eyes. 

“He reminded me how I’m just some stupid prick from the wrong part of town with a drunk Dad who beats on me for fun. He reminded me how I have no idea how to love people or how to let them love me. My life has been in a downward spiral from the moment I was born, my life is a sinking ship Y/N and if you knew any better you’d find a fucking lifeboat and abandon ship.” By the time Monty was finished there were unshed tears in his eyes and he refused to look at you. His chest is heaving and you can tell what Alex said really got to him. You take a step forward and reach up to cup his cheeks before you’re forcing him to meet your gaze. “I love you Montgomery. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You whisper but Monty pulls away, his eyes sad and his body language tense. “No I’m not. I nearly beat your brother half to death yesterday because he had the balls to tell me the truth. We can’t be together, you’re too good for me. You deserve to be with someone like Clay.” Monty says, turning for the door. 

Your heart is broken even though you know he didn’t mean it. Your heart is fucking broken even though you know his is too. You lay back on your bed, the tears still fresh and rolling down your cheeks. Monty broke up with you today. He thinks he’s saving you, but he’s hurting you. Alex knocks on the door before pushing it open, guilt weighing heavily in his chest when he sees the tears. “Well what you said must have resonated with Monty because you got what you wanted. He broke up with me because you’ve convinced him he’s going to ruin my life.” You said, your voice weak from the crying. Alex stayed silent as he pushed his hands into his jean pockets. “I didn’t want this, I just wanted you to be safe.” Alex says sadly but you laugh bitterly as you roll to your right side. “Don’t worry Alex, my body is safe but my heart has been fucking shattered now get the hell out.” You snap as sobs begin to choke through your chest again. Alex leaves and closes the door behind him, leaving you alone with your quiet crying. 

School the next day was awkward. And painful. You’d arrived with Alex, but as soon as you crossed the threshold into the school you bolted to find Clay. You couldn’t be around Monty or Alex right now. You could see Monty out of the corner of your eye in his usual place against the lockers with the football guys. You felt tears thickening in your eyes as you turned towards Clay, who had been gracious enough to endure a 3 hour phone call last night about the breakup. He’d listened to you cry and he comforted you and promised he’d walk everywhere with you today. Monty spotted the bags under your swollen eyes, he felt guilt upon the realization you must have spent most of the night crying. In the long run this is better for you though, you’ll get over Monty and find someone who could treat you better. Or at least that’s what Monty repeatedly told himself to stop from caving and begging for your forgiveness. You had your back to Monty and firmly on Clay- who had been babbling on about some robot comic he reads. You’d asked him to talk about literally anything to keep your mind off Monty. 

Alex sat on the bleachers, his elbows resting on his knees. He didn’t only see how messed up you were, he also saw how messed up Monty was. He was stalking through the halls like a ticking time bomb, as though he’s waiting for someone to give him a reason to hit them. Alex knew he messed up, and he also knew he needed to be the one to fix it. He pushes from the table and after checking the clock he figures Monty will probably be out back, it’s his off hour. When Alex pushes through the schools back doors he sees Monty send his fist into some kids face, “you wanna say that about my girl again?” His voice was tense and his fist was holding the kids shirt tightly. The kid, who apparently said something about Y/N, quickly shook his head while reaching up to pinch his bleeding nose. Monty released the kid, watching him scramble inside and his eyes land on Alex. “Y/N send you?” Monty asks, looking down at his bruised and bloody knuckles. Alex shook his head as he took a few steps towards Monty, “no but I am here because of her.” 

Monty reached into his backpack to pull out a rag, which already had bloodstains on it to wipe his knuckles. “I think breaking up with her was a mistake. She’s like really sad.” Alex says, itching the back of his neck as Monty pauses for a second before continuing to wipe his hand. “That’s funny coming from you. Nice face by the way.” Monty says, a snide smiling crossing onto his face. When he’s in pain he deflects and lashes out. “I know. Look I’m sorry about what I said yesterday, I know you have a crappy home life but I guess I didn’t realize how happy you make Y/N. Even though you’re an asshole to everyone else, you’re really good to her. Don’t punch me for saying this but I think she’s changing you, you’re way less of an asshole then you were 6 months ago.” Alex said and Monty turned to look at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “I might have been right about a few things but definitely not about everything. I was wrong when I said Y/N would be happier without you, because I’ve never seen her so sad. She was up all night crying on the phone with Clay.” Monty’s eyebrows rise at the mention of Clay. 

“I mean you can do what you want but I genuinely think the best thing for Y/N is you. So, yeah.” Alex says, clearing his throat awkwardly before turning back inside the school. “Also she’s been with Clay all day. Last I heard they were getting pretty friendly in the Library.” Alex quips before the door closes. That’s a lie of course, while it is true you’re in the Library with Clay you two are in no way getting ‘friendly’. The comment is enough however to set Monty off, so he yanks open the door and storms for the Library. When Monty nearly barrels into the Library he sees you and Clay looking for a book near the back, but you’re not really near each other. Just talking. “Fuckin’ Alex.” Monty grumbles and as Monty turns to leave he hears his name come from your angelic lips. “I haven’t heard from Monty yet. He hasn’t even glanced in my direction.” You say to Clay sadly. Clay reaches up to grab a book from a higher shelf that you were struggling to reach, “well if he’s not a complete retard he’ll come around. I don’t know Monty very well but I know he cares about you.” Clay reassures and while you smile you’re not sure you believe him. 

As you and Clay keep searching for books, you feel a large, familiar hand wrap around your arm. “Can we talk?” Monty asks, his eyes boring into yours. Clay continues down the isles of books, a small smile on his face. You nod hesitantly as you pull Monty to a back corner of the Library. Monty awkwardly itches the back of his neck as you wait for him to say something. Desperately trying to form the right words in his head Monty rolls his eyes as he cups your cheeks. He’s always been more of an action guy than a word guy. He desperately presses his lips against yours, his hands pulling you impossibly close to his body. You melt into him as your arms wrap around his neck. “I love you.” Monty whispers against your lips, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. There is nobody in this secluded area of the Library and soon the kisses grow more frantic, as Monty reaches for your ass to haul you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he rests you on a table, his lips fervently moving against yours. Monty’s hands press flat against the table on either side of your legs. He grinds his hardening cock into you, causing a breathless gasp to escape your lips. 

“Monty we can’t, not here.” You whisper through the kisses as Monty’s fingers begin to dance up your thighs. Your head falls back as Monty’s lips trail down your neck to your shoulder, “sure we can baby. You just gotta be quiet for me.” Monty whispers into your skin as his hands make contact with your core through your jeans. You bite your lip to prevent a moan from slipping out, you grind your hips into his hand in an attempt to get more friction. “Think you can keep those pretty sounds you make nice and quiet so I can fuck you right here?” Monty asks, his hand rubbing tortuously slow. You bite down hard on your lip as your fingers grab tightly onto Monty’s shoulders. “God Monty,” You moan softly into his ear as his knee presses between your legs to part them. His lips work magic on your neck as he sucks and bites all the right places, “please tell me this is makeup sex.” You whisper as your fingers gasp onto the short hairs on his head. 

“Baby this is ‘I never should have let you go’ sex.” Monty whispered, his fingers gently popping the button of your jeans open. Monty quickly glances over his shoulder, and when he sees nobody in sight he pulls your jeans down to your calves. “I love you,” Monty whispers, his eyes looking into yours as his hand dips under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers gently rub along his neck as his fingers dip into your wet opening, “fuck I love you Monty.” You nearly cry out as he begins to slowly pump 2 fingers into you. Monty’s forehead is nearly pressed against yours as his hand comes up to clasp over your mouth. His pupils dilate as he lustfully watches your eyes roll back in your head when he crooks his fingers inside you. Your fingers curl around his wrist to ensure he keeps pumping his fingers into you but much to your dismay Monty pulls his hand away when he notices your thighs beginning to shake. Reattaching his lips to yours Monty lets you reach for the button of his jeans.  

You desperately fumble with the button of his jeans before you finally pop them open and yank the zipper down. “Condom?” You whisper against his lips and Monty nods quickly while digging into the pocket of his jeans. He always has one with him just in case the two of you can’t wait until school is over. Like now. After Monty has rolled the condom down onto his hard cock he presses the head against your entrance. “Now baby I need you to be nice and quiet or we’re going to get in a lot of trouble mkay?” Monty breathes softly against your lips and you nod as your arms pulls his body closer to yours. Monty wraps one arm around your body as the other reaches down to help guide his cock into your tight opening. “Shit Y/N.” Monty hisses quietly as he stretches you open, inch by inch. Your mouth hangs open as a quiet gasp escapes your mouth at the feeling of Monty sliding inside you. Monty begins to slowly but forcefully thrust into you, his hand coming up to cover your mouth when a tiny moan escapes. You’re softly crying out against his palm as he pushes into you over and over again. “Christ baby you feel so good around me.” Monty huskily whispers into your neck as you hold his hand over your lips. You’d cry out in ecstasy if his hand wasn’t there. 

Monty’s other hand reaches down to thumb at your clit, “need you to cum around my cock baby. Fuck I need to feel you cum around me, need to know I’m making you feel good.” Monty breathes, his face still nuzzled into your neck. You feel the heat spreading through your body like liquid fire as you keep your knees spread wide open for him, your chest heaving against his. Your hips begin to buck against his and with one more sharp, forceful thrust into you Monty slams the head of his cock directly into your g-spot and you cum instantaneously. You clench hard around him as you cum on his cock and Monty groans softly as he also cums into the condom as you cum. Monty presses a long kiss to your sweaty forehead before he pulls out and tosses the condom into a large trashcan sitting nearby. Monty tucks his cock back into his jeans as he pulls your jeans back up your legs. After Monty buttons your jeans again he looks up into your eyes, “baby I’m sorry. What Alex said just really got to me because he said literally everything I have ever worried about, out loud, straight to my face. I’m really good at pretending to be confident but I can’t act around you. You always see right through me, and I got scared. So I ran. If Alex didn’t come and tell me to get off my ass and fix this I don’t know if I would have and that scares me more.”  

“Wait Alex came and talk to you today?” You ask and Monty nods, his hands resting on your hips as you stay seated on the table. “He told me to fix this, and well I’m glad he did.” Monty smiled, a loving look crossing onto his face as he studies your eyes. “I’m not about to be a presumptuous asshole and assume you’ll take me back because you let me fuck you so, Y/N baby will you please take me back?” Monty asks and you can see that flicker of fear in his eyes that you’ll say no. You press your lips against his again, nearly taking him by surprise as he stumbles back a step when you completely throw yourself into his arms. “I love you and you’re stuck with me.” You smile and Monty smiles widely, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you-” “God ew I’m happy you two are back together but seriously ew.” A voice sounds from behind you. You step back onto the floor as you turn to see Alex with a grimace on his face. “Will you two just hurry up? There’s a fight out back and for once Monty isn’t involved.” Alex says with a roll of his eyes as he watches Monty smack your ass. You lace your fingers with Monty’s as you two follow Alex out of the Library. 

#13 reasons why #monty de la cruz #monty de la cruz smut #monty deserved better #13 reasons why smut #Smut #alex standall #sister!standall #timothy granaderos #timothy granaderos smut