#i do not blame the newcomers their lack of knowledge

[rey-jake-therapist]

Lost Souls chapter 8

If you missed the beginning

Chapter 7 on AO3

SUMMARY CHAPTER 8

We're back in the present. Jake hasn't forgotten the night he spent with Mina, but she seems determined to keep their relationship platonic. Sasha and Ari are already making bets about Jake and Mina, while Jake doesn't know how to behave with Tess. Notes: I just want to say that to those who don't like Tess very much because of what she did at the end of Sweetbitter season 2 not to worry: as I'm telling the story from Jake's point of view, who still knows nothing about what she did, I'm still cuddling her... But I promise that when the day of revelation comes, she'll get her due!

AO3 link to chapters 8, 9 and 10 if you prefer reading them there

New York, February 2019

Despite a rocky start, Mina quickly proved to be a competent and efficient partner for Jake. As they navigated the lunch shift together, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her unfamiliarity with some basic aspects of bartending. Her lack of knowledge about cocktails in particular surprised him, considering her years of experience in a high-end Los Angeles restaurant.

Their shift coming to an end, they went out to smoke a cigarette. Jake chose this moment to  voice his concerns but she responded defensively, claiming that in L.A., her role had been more specialized and she hadn't been required to work behind the bar often. Her irritation was palpable as she brushed off his questions.

Jake let out a chuckle, breaking the tension. "No need to get so defensive. Howard was probably desperate to find a replacement for Nicky, or..."

"Or what?" Mina prompted.

"Or he had some ulterior motive when hiring you," Jake mused.

Taking a step closer, he couldn't help but be drawn to the curve of Mina's neck. Leaning in, he whispered near her ear, his voice low and playful, "Not that I blame him..."

Mina shot him an irritated look, her cheeks tinged with a blush, and her breath slightly hitched. "I'm sure he did a background check before hiring me back. Now back off, playboy. Your girlfriend's watching," she retorted, nodding towards Tess, who was indeed keeping an eye on them from a nearby table she was cleaning.

Jake let out a sigh, his playful demeanor fading. He wanted to respond with something witty, but Tess's gaze held a mixture of pain and unrealistic hope that gave him a pang of guilt. He had hoped that Tess might have been too high the night before to remember the confession of love she had made. He could choose to pretend that he hadn't heard anything, but that might not help if Tess decided to bring up the subject again.

"And the other woman, the one who didn't bother to say hello but instead quizzed me about wines during the... What do you call it? "Family lunch"?" Mina inquired.

"Family lunch, yep, we've got family dinner too. That would be Simone. She loves terrorizing newcomers, asking them wine-related questions," Jake explained with a touch of amusement.

"Oh, I thought she was probably that Simone," Mina replied, casting a curious glance at Jake. He suddenly realized he had mentioned Simone to her before, multiple times even. Anxiety crept in as he couldn't recall everything he might have said.

Mina continued, her tone sly, "She kept giving me those death stares when she came to the bar later. Quite the welcoming party. Did you spill the beans to her already? I could practically feel the jealousy radiating off her."

Jake frowned, taken aback by Mina's assumption. His response carried a casual tone, though he was slightly unsettled. "Nah, you've got it all wrong. Simone couldn't care less about who I fuck. Our relationship is... different. And no, I haven't told her anything about you."

"But she knows something happened, right? You two seem pretty close, the type that shares everything," Mina probed, displaying an unexpected astuteness that caught Jake off guard. Not ready to delve into the topic just yet, he subtly gestured toward the wedding ring adorning Mina's left hand.

"I see the ring's still on… Is your husband coming to New York?" He inquired.

Mina, taken aback, fiddled nervously with her wedding ring, sliding it up and down her finger as she responded with evident anxiety, "Johnny, in New York? Good Lord, no. He has never left California, probably never will! I needed time far away from him, and I think he felt the same way about me. Hopefully, we can figure it out! We probably just need time."

Jake suspected that she was trying to convince herself that her marriage was not over yet, but he didn't feel that it was his place to tell her otherwise. Even if he had wanted to say something, he wouldn't have had the opportunity because Sasha, a Russian server with a distinctive accent, burst onto the scene, his voice loud and slightly high-pitched, and interrupted their conversation to complain about Howard. Throughout the shift, Sasha had been somewhat rude to Mina; Jake assumed it was likely due to the stress of the job.

Others had also shown a mixture of curiosity and skepticism toward Mina as she stepped into Nicky's former role. Mina was still unaware that they were mourning Nicky's absence due to his wife's illness. Only Heather and Tess had welcomed her, with Heather being a mutual connection through a friend who had tipped Mina off about the job opportunity.

Sasha's interruption continued as he exclaimed, "Awwww! Pussy Cat and Baby Jakey! Taking a little break together, huh? Did I catch you two in the act?" He grinned suggestively at them before lighting his own cigarette. Jake rolled his eyes at Sasha's teasing, refusing to take the bait. Mina, on the other hand, simply shrugged and responded with a mix of annoyance and curiosity, "We were just smoking. And what did you call me?"

"You got a problem with Pussy Cat? Prefer Big Whore? What's your preference?" Sasha shot back.

Mina grumbled, "I don't know, do I look big to you? You could just call me Mina, that's my actual name, but whatever."

Sasha didn't seem to take a hint as he continued his teasing, "So, when's the big event happening? Need to know so I can win my bet against Ari. I could use some new shoes, but I have no money!"

Jake groaned, a mix of annoyance and amusement. The topic of his romantic life had been a favorite subject of speculation among his coworkers for years. He retorted, "Screw off, Sasha," though his tone held more exasperation than actual irritation. They were all behaving like children, he thought.

Mina's response jolted him, making him feel like he had stepped on a landmine. "Been there done that already! You won your bet, go tell her!" she declared, her face deadpan and seemingly unfazed.

Both Sasha and Jake stared at her, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Jake, in particular, felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn't prepared for the world to learn about him and Mina like this, especially from Sasha, of all people.

Sasha couldn't contain his excitement. "Really? That was fast!" he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Yeah, you know, just a quickie in the locker this morning! Jake is just that irresistible," Mina retorted, a playful tone in her voice.

Jake immediately realized that Mina was joking, and his tense shoulders relaxed. He decided to play along, trying to mask the relief in his voice. "Why the surprise, Sasha? That's me!"

Sasha squinted at them suspiciously, sensing their exchange of complicit looks. "You guys are messing with me!" he accused, his tone a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Mina giggled while Jake playfully blew a puff of smoke in Sasha's direction. Sasha responded by blowing a playful kiss back at Jake.

Sasha then offered Mina a piece of advice, "I should probably warn you not to get involved with this slut. He's dating Tess, and Tess is my friend. But honestly, I don’t care."

Mina stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, moving closer to Sasha with a mischievous smile. "What a caring friend you are! But don't worry, even if it were your concern, you'd have nothing to worry about," she replied, her gray eyes fixed on Jake, a hint of challenge in her gaze. "I don't sleep with coworkers."

We'll see about that, Jake thought, while keeping a straight face.

Mina then walked back into the restaurant with a confident stride. Jake's attention was momentarily drawn to her graceful movements before he realized Sasha was still looking at him.

"You're not planning to let this go, are you, Baby Jakey?" Sasha asked with a sly grin.

Jake sighed. "Does Tess know about your bet?" he asked Sasha, his concern evident.

"Nah, we're not assholes! But she knows who you are. We all do!" Sasha replied.

"Yeah, everyone thinks they've got me all figured out," Jake muttered under his breath. But the truth was, nobody really understood him.

As he finished his cigarette, he flicked the butt into the ashtray and headed back inside the restaurant. Upon entering, he spotted Howard conversing with Mina in the dining room. Jake could feel Howard's eyes on him, assessing the situation. When he walked by his boss, Howard didn't say a word to him.

Jake wasn't just joking about the possibility that Howard might have ulterior motives for hiring Mina. He had once viewed Howard as a tightly-wound, overly serious man and a hopeless romantic mourning his wife's death for years. However, the revelation of Howard's affair with Becky, the previous manager, had cast a different light on his boss.

The way Howard had treated Becky was repulsive. After seducing her, he had orchestrated her transfer to the Smokehouse, a barbecue restaurant with TVs plastered on its walls. For Becky, it had felt like a downgrade even though the wages were rumored to be better there compared to what they offered at the 22W. Still infatuated with Howard, she had continued seeing him until it was painfully apparent that he was using her. At least, this was what the grapevine said; not much was heard from Becky after her departure from 22W. There were whispers that she had recently left the Smokehouse as well, but Jake wasn't invested enough in her personal drama to keep up with the latest gossip. He had never been particularly close to Becky, despite having shared some heated moments with her a few years back. Their interactions had been more physical than verbal. After a few weeks of casual encounters, she had ended it with him, citing a "serious" relationship with a guy she had refused to name. When Jake had later learned about her affair with Howard, he had wondered if Howard was the same guy she had dumped him for. The timelines seemed to align.

Not wanting to appear nosy, Jake decided to head to the locker room. Inside, he found Heather and Tess preparing for a shopping trip with Ari waiting for them outside.

"Hey, handsome!"

Tess called out to him, her arms encircling his neck as she placed a tender kiss on his lips. Seeing the affection in her eyes, Jake felt both touched and uneasy. Gently pushing her away while he loosened his tie, he responded,

"Hey, princess. What's going on?"

Tess sounded casual, but there was a hint of fading happiness in her smile, as if she had sensed his hesitation.

"How's the new girl doing?" Tess asked, keeping up the pretense. Her smile was fading, a mix of curiosity and worry flickering in her eyes.

"Fine, I guess," Jake replied, maintaining the facade. "You can ask her yourself when you see her. She's still talking with Howard."

"Really? What are they talking about?"

Jake detected a slight flinch in Tess's eyes, but she quickly brushed it off, murmuring that she was just curious. He wondered if Tess was worried that Mina might outshine her as a server. She had mentioned previously that she was hoping for a promotion from Howard.

Offering his professional analysis, Jake quipped, "If you want my expert opinion, she's about as good at bartending as you were at waiting tables when you started." This made Heather laugh, who chimed in,

"Oh, she's that bad?" 

"Hey!" Tess playfully protested before joining in the laughter.

"Honey, nobody thought you'd last a week," Heather confessed.

"I didn't even think I'd last two days," Tess admitted with a grin.

Jake found himself reminiscing aloud, 

"I remember the first time I saw you. You surprised me."

Why did I say that? Jake immediately questioned himself. It had just slipped out, but now he was second-guessing his choice of words. He remembered Tess's arrival vividly. At the time, he hadn't thought much of her, aside from noticing that she seemed as innocent and vulnerable as a deer caught in headlights. She didn't seem to fit into the atmosphere of the restaurant. Yet, he couldn't deny finding her cute. He had seen the way she looked at him, a mix of curiosity and attraction, and he had known that winning her over wouldn't require much effort on his part.

Tess responded with a soft smile, gazing at him fondly as he changed into a black shirt. "I remember you too." The memory brought a smile to her lips. 

"You liked that oyster, didn’t you?" Jake teased. Tess had once shared that while tasting the oyster he had offered her, she had wondered if his kisses would be as salty.

As their playful banter continued, Ari's impatience finally interrupted them. Her head popped into the locker room, her voice laced with annoyance.

"Are you done? Where's Sasha?"

Ari's attention then shifted to the entrance of the room, and she adopted a sultry tone. "Oh, hello there, new person!"

All eyes turned toward Mina, who made quite the entrance, her embarrassment evident. With a soft-spoken "Hey!" she slipped into the room, throwing Jake a fleeting glance before heading to her locker. Unaware of Ari's appreciative look as she scrutinized her from head to toe, Mina's focus was elsewhere. Jake couldn't help but smirk at the situation. He had a hunch that Ari might soon make her move on Mina – a pattern she had followed with other newcomers, those who were backwaters like her at least. Ari liked to regularly remind her friends about not dating coworkers who had a different position in the hierarchy.

Frankly, Jake found that logic hard to grasp. Among his friends, like Tess and Simone, the distinction between being a server and a backwater was a big deal. It wasn't just about the better pay at month's end; they believed it gave them a certain status. Simone believed that  her extensive wine knowledge and her 15 years at the restaurant made her indispensable. Jake thought it was a naive error in judgment. No one was truly irreplaceable, especially in a place like 22W. Customers and the director saw no real difference among servers, bartenders, and backwaters – all were just serving staff to them.

Heather extended an invitation to Mina, inviting her to join her, Tess, Ari, and possibly Sasha for a shopping trip. Caught off guard, Mina glanced hesitantly at Tess and Ari, both awaiting her response. Ari seemed enthusiastic, likely sensing a chance to uncover more about Mina's sexuality. For what felt like an eternity, Jake held his breath, fearing Mina might accept. It was clear that she had no intention of revealing their intimate connection established just a week ago at the Omega Lounge. But Ari had a knack for reading situations. If she sensed their secret, Jake was certain she'd spill the beans to Tess, driven by her bet with Sasha and Scott that Jake and Tess would break up within a month.

Finally, Jake suppressed a sigh of relief as Mina diplomatically replied, "Sounds nice! But I promised Keisha I'd babysit Zahra so she could hit the hair salon. Can you believe she hasn't had time to cut her hair since the baby was born?"

"Oh, poor thing! That's exactly why I'm in no rush to have kids. They're amazing, but say goodbye to your free time," Tess chimed in.

Mina nodded and bid them a pleasant shopping trip before Ari declared she wasn't waiting around for Sasha any longer. Mina's smile seemed sincere, yet Jake couldn't quite gauge if she was truly disappointed to miss out on the outing. He wondered about her typical social dynamics at work – was she more of a loner like him? She felt different from the Mina he met at the Omega Lounge a week ago, appearing more reserved, even cautious. 

As Tess left the locker room with Heather and Ari, Jake and Mina were finally alone. Lost in his thoughts, he watched her as she undressed. With her back turned, he caught a glimpse of her cherry tree tattoo running down her spine and felt a sting of desire.

"I know you're ogling, you perv," Mina playfully called out, still facing away from him.

"Not my fault the men and the women’s lockers aren’t separated," he retorted in the same teasing tone. Shrugging into his leather jacket, he added, "Besides, I saw you sneaking a peek while I was still sans pants. You naughty girl."

Mina giggled, slipped into a white tank top and black jeans, and quipped with a grin, "What can I say? You were just in the way!"

As she untied her hair, Jake's desire surged, ignited by the tantalizing perfume that wafted from her. The room was empty, everyone else seemed to have left – so what was holding him back? Closing the distance between them, he took a few steps towards her, observing her reactions intently. She maintained an artful pretense of not noticing, retrieving a gray pullover from her locker. When he gently brushed her hair aside to gain access, she momentarily froze. The absence of protest encouraged him, and as he let a finger trail down her alluring neck, he detected the telltale quickening of her breath. The attraction was mutual, he knew it. His lips hovered tantalizingly close to her neck...

"Don't."

The single word, delivered with a cold and resolute tone, landed on him like a bucket of ice. He immediately stepped back, though he inquired, "Why?"

"Earlier, I was serious. I don't date coworkers. Especially not you," Mina retorted sharply. "I have enough problems of my own; I don't need to deal with yours."

"Understandable," Jake conceded reluctantly. "But who said anything about dating?" 

He craved physical contact. Feeling a surge of boldness, he slipped his hand under her tank top, grazing the velvety skin of her back. He knew he'd found a sensitive spot when she shivered beneath his touch. She eluded his grasp quickly, pulling on her pullover. Gazing into his eyes with an unwavering resolve, she issued a clear statement, "No dating, no sexing. Just work."

Jake's jaw clenched, and though he yearned to assert that he didn't care – a blatant falsehood – he was interrupted by the abrupt intrusion of Sasha, his demeanor sour.

"Is it just you in here?! Where are the other bitches?" Sasha blurted out angrily.

"They left already. Where were you, anyway?" Jake responded, equally irritated by the Russian's untimely intrusion.

"I was on the phone, damn it! I swear, Baby Jakey, they're going to pay for this!" Sasha raged.

"Baby Jakey…" Mina echoed, thoroughly amused.

"That's my nickname for him; no one else can use it! Still need to come up with a new name for you," Sasha quipped.

"Anything but PussyCat works for me…" Mina countered. While Jake stewed in his grumpiness, Mina seemed to relish Sasha's entrance, effectively breaking the thick tension that hung in the air. She mentioned she was running late, exchanged a quick farewell, and hurried out of the locker room.

Sasha's giggles rang out as he taunted Jake, "Oops, let me guess – you were about to fuck, and I ruined it?"

Jake managed a wry chuckle and retorted, "You're the one in this room who needs to get laid, Sasha."

"Oh Baby Jakey, sweetie, that's sweet but you know we're incompatible!"

Jake slipped behind Sasha and replied with a teasing voice, "Your loss… Anyway, I've got to run. I promised Chris and my goddaughter I'd meet them after my shift."

Without a parting word, he exited the locker room, ignoring Sasha's playful complaints, "Yeah, sure, just abandon me here, like the others!"

Want more? Chapter 9.

@sylverfaeland

@endlessbittersweetdreams

@ladyredstar1991

@writing-for-life

@deloftheendlessdrama

@dear--lady-disdain

#sweetbitter #jake sweetbitter #tom sturridge #jake x oc #fanfiction #sweetbitter jake #ao3 link #fic update #jake

[nenithil]

Did Levi-Hans talk about Erwin's real personality after his death?(5)

(1)

(2)

(3)

(4)

It's my personal interpretations of their discussion and their changes.

When Hanji disapproved of Levi’s choice, she mainly disapproved of the reasons he expressed at the time, such as: Erwin was too tired so let him rest, do not let him continue being a devil. Hanji's character concept will certainly be disapproval. She did not see that what Erwin did was to become a devil, but only decisions that must be made. If "enslaved" by a strong dream so he could not fight for humanity, it was just like scolding herself, and she didn't think that death is the way to deal with the conflicts deep in the heart, it is something like "escape" which she most opposed to. So she can't agree with Levi's choice of Erwin.

But another reason, which is to give the hope of life to the younger and future, could be understood. Because Hans herself did the same thing, in 132 when she was on her choice, she did not care if she was a leader, nor if she had more experience, nor if she had more prestige, nor if she had the priority to be on the airship, she just rushed up to the most dangerous place by herself, leaving hope to the youth.

Although it was obvious that she was roughly written to death by Isym, I think that if knowing Hans' character, we can admit that it's just like what she usually was to go first. "I brought everyone here, so it's my turn to come to sacrifice, it's my duty to prevent danger"

Survey Corps does have the so-called priority of life, but to protect the newcomers, to protect the youth was also their tradition. When they confront danger and death, the elderly would die to protect the newcomers so that they have more time to spend their life in the future, more hope to continue to grow. Rather than the strict military rules and the cold weighing of the value of life, maybe what coalesce them was these bonds of affection and conscience.

For those close to her, Hanji was concerned about the reason behind them. So when Keith resigned, although she inwardly disapproved of the veteran just retired, but thought he was mourning and atoning for his comrades, so she remained silent and admired him. Until hearing him say it was because of his self-deparation and self-abandonment, because the illusion of the Chosen One was shattered, which was just a silly escape, so she angrily blamed him on his face.

And Levi's reasons would not have been that simple, so he would have affirmed Amin's unique power, and would question himself in his dreams. He suspected that perhaps Armin could bring dreams, just as Hanji in smartpass: determination said she wanted to guard the children's dreams. This kind of reason may sound sentimental, but it could be easily admitted by them. The weight out of pragmatic principle, or the far light of hope, no matter which one to choose, could both be reasonable and feel no shame.

So I think, in their time while they exchange their feelings, communicating and bridging their differences of choice, they also learned how to confront with the fear of the unknown, with their lack of confidence, wavering belief, uncertain goal. Together, they re-established a viable goal, and specified their own responsibility and position.

She was able to take her responsibility to think, and step forward again, laughing happily in front of the children in the orphanage, in the sea, and even in front of the knowledge brought by the Marlayans. And years later, he no longer asked himself why he made such a choice, no longer felt lost in the fact that his old leader could not that easily break away from his dream to devote himself completely to mankind-- in his heart, they are all members of SC. Survey Soldiers are a group of dreamers. They themselves are humanity which he wanted to give his all to protect.

#hanji zoe #erwin #levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hans zoe #commander hanji #snk analysis #snk 132

[luna-almighty-god]

Guardian Angel N°19 [EPILOGUE ]

Hello everyone, here's the Guardian Angel's epilogue! The final point of this story! Have a good read!

===

First Chapter  

Previous Chapter

===

Distant voices... terribly distant voices...

Rustle... feeling...

But it's all... it was all hushed up. Smothered by his unconsciousness.

He had no knowledge of anything. Not his environment, not even his identity.

A deep sleep, devoid of dreams and thoughts.

At times he felt a terrible pain, a pain coming from his chest. A pain due to a lack, but a lack of what? He knew the answer, he was sure of it, but like his own name, the answer did not come.

The darkness... nothing but darkness.

There was a time when he was afraid of the dark, of loneliness, of confinement.

And yet... trapped in that space of darkness... He was not afraid. He felt... ...good. At peace. Free of a weight, as it were.

Yet his situation was not to be envied. He was bathed in total incomprehension.

But he wasn't afraid. He had confidence.

Confidence in those distant voices, voices he didn't understand but knew were familiar. He felt touched, caressed, pampered, pampered. He felt that he was being taken care of, despite his chest, which always hurt.

He had confidence.

Completely confident.

In this total absence of landmarks, both physical and temporal, he eventually realized something. After what seemed like an eternity... he realized that it didn't hurt anymore. The pain in his chest had stopped.

It had ceased to give way... to a strange comfort. Comfort he had never seemed to experience.

[And finally, he woke up.]

The first thing he perceived was a flash of light. The outside light, the soft rays of the sun, filtering through the curtains to come and caress his face. He blinked, somewhat confused, and didn't move at once. He let his eyes get used to this sudden brightness, which contrasted so much with the preceding darkness.

He regained contact with his senses. Slowly, very slowly ... the touch of the fine sheets, the smell of freshly washed linen, the familiar sounds of the castle ...

The castle.

He widened his eyes, straightened up completely to observe his surroundings. He was... in his room at Dreamtale. This room that Nightmare had given him. And that realization warmed his soul with a warmth he'd never known so strongly.

[His name was Nyx]

Yeah, his name was Nyx. He was Nyx. Time traveler, son of Nightmare and Ink, but from another timeline. And as all the events came back to his mind, the misunderstanding grew: what had happened? He remembered talking to his father... but then? The dark, just the dark... He'd crossed the line.

He'd... fallen asleep?

Normally, he'd be worried. But, um... (sighs) But he wasn't. Why wasn't he? As if he was released from something, something too big, too heavy to carry.

He got off the sheets, slowly put his feet on the ground, and shivered. He was only wearing a jogging suit, nothing else, and the contact of his bare bones on the floor caught him off guard. He shivered, was unable to get up, and fell back on the mattress. As if he had forgotten how to walk.

But if falling down like that surprised him, he was more shocked by what was revealed to him. His soul had just slipped out of his rib cage, mischievous and playful, throbbing with strange joy, to come and show itself to him.

His purple soul.

...Purple?

[ But...? ]

He doesn't grasp it immediately. Simply because it involved too many things, too many things.

Black apples. How long had it been since he'd eaten them? They had made his soul blacker than the night itself, and if that blackness had now disappeared ... did it mean that he was no longer in the grip of those cursed fruits? That he... was now free from corruption?

To find out, he turned his gaze to the shadow of his bed and concentrated on making his tentacles appear. But... (sighs) But no matter how hard he concentrated, no matter how hard he tried. It didn't matter how many minutes passed. Nothing was happening. His appendages were not showing.

Wouldn't show up.

He hiccupped, not knowing if he should be happy or panicked, not knowing what to do with this revelation. He was just too confused.

He had been addicted to black apples for years, too many years. Lacking these apples caused him to have terrible seizures, as he had experienced hundreds of times before.

Now he was not having any seizures at all.

Suddenly he had a flash. He remembered the pain he had felt when he was unconscious. This pain that was actually a seizure. A long seizure that he had experienced through his sleep.

A seizure ... that had ended.

He was... detoxed? ... He was just... Just like that?

No, it couldn't be that simple. All his problems couldn't be solved in just one night's sleep.

... How long had he been asleep?

His thoughts did not have time to dither as the bedroom door opened, immediately attracting the attention of Nyx, who observed the newcomer... ... and remained silent in amazement.

A heavy silence fell. In the doorway stood a young skeleton, a teenager about 14 years old. A teenager ... ...far too familiar. With black ink-black bones, pink eye sockets, and yellow and blue pupils.

A teenager who became livid when he saw Nyx sitting in bed, wide awake.

“G-big brother... ? “ stuttered the newcomer.

Even the voice, though slightly muted, was familiar. And the name ...

Nyx widened his eyes:

“... Jammy?”

The nickname pushed the poor Paperjam to the edge of tears, and without warning he threw himself into the arms of the elder, pressing him against the mattress with all his weight, coming to curl up against him, the first salty drops sliding down his cheeks.

"You are awake... ! You're awake... ! "sobbed the smallest one, holding himself tighter and tighter against Nyx, as if afraid that he would disappear.

And this only confirmed what the older one feared: he had slept a long time.

[Much too long]

His throat became tied and he came feverishly to respond to his younger brother's embrace, tenderly caressing his back in the hope of calming his tears, but also to reassure himself. A multitude of questions came overwhelming him and he dreaded having the answer. What had been going on all this time? What had he been missing? Were his loved ones well? Or was he thinking of going back in time to change some new event?

“... J-Jammy... what is... ?”

The cadet sniffed softly before standing up, feverishly wiping his eyes without really succeeding. Nyx also straightened up to bring his face closer to his own and put his hands on his cheeks to dry his tears with the back of his thumb.

“It's going to be all right... calm... I'm awake now... I'm awake now, and I'm okay. Okay?“

He gave him a sweet smile and Paperjam sniffed a second time, before slowly nodding his head. Nyx took the time to calm down before daring to question him:

“ ... Jam, do you think you can quickly explain to me everything I missed?”

The youngest nodded his head once more, before coming back to curl up against Nyx and hide his face in his neck:

“Y-You... Oh, that was a while ago... You jumped into the portal to help Oshoku... But when Papink and Nightmare left to help you, they brought you back unconscious...

- A-And my father?

- Oshoku was with them... he was worried about you. He tried to cast his spell to keep you awake, but Lux and Yumerai wouldn't let him. They said you needed to sleep, even if it took a long time... but we missed you so much... Nightmare kept you in the castle. Me and my dads came to live here to look after you. We all took turns looking after you!”

Nyx felt his soul squeeze, moved by the words of his younger brother, whom he questioned a second time:

“And... how long have I slept... ?

- S-Six years...”

Although he expected worse, Nyx petrified, the length hitting him in the face. Damn it. six years wasn't nothing! And Paperjam thought no less ...

“... a-and... did anything important happen... ? stuttered Nyx with uncertainty.

- Well... Yes !”

Paperjam found a fabulous smile, although his eyes were still watery. He looked at his elder brother with some excitement, happy to be the one to tell him everything:

“Under Shiroken's advice, Cross finally confessed to Epic that he loved him ! They are a couple now! Oh, oh! And we have a new little sister! Her name is Shera! DaddInk and Perror fought over a name, but you'd see her! She's so cute! I have to introduce you to her! And Horror and Dust are a couple too! Ah, Insomnia's all grown up! He'll be so happy to see you! And, uh...”

Nyx had a sweet laugh:

“Take it easy, Jammy, catch your breath...

- Ahah, sorry! But I'm so happy... I'm so happy... I missed you so much, big brother...”

And Paperjam seemed to be about to cry again, but he quickly rubbed his eyes to contain himself, before resuming his story more slowly:

“Also... Shiroken, Yumerai and Lux lived for a while in the castle. But I think they felt out of place .... They said they wanted to watch over this multiverse, but on their own side.”

Nyx fanatic smile almost immediately:

“...you... you mean they're gone ... gone?

- Yes, they're gone... I'm sorry, maybe I'm coming at you too abruptly ... We're... We haven't heard from them in a while. But Nightmare and Dream don't seem worried, I think they're still feeling their emotions. So that's all good for them, isn't it?”

The older one did not answer, but bit his tongue to contain the bitterness that was taking hold of him. His uncle... His cousin... His master-of-arms... They were gone. Again, they were separated. And Nyx somehow blamed himself for not waking up sooner, if only to thank them for stepping in. If only to thank them... for taking care of him.

He swallowed his saliva, heavy soul, before feverishly asking another question:

“...and... about my... ?

- ... parents? Oshoku and Etsuko ?”

Paperjam took some time to think. He could see that it was a lot for his elder to assimilate...

"Well... They disappeared too. Etsuko... Etsuko didn't talk anymore about seeing his memories. I think he's... bugged... ? I don't really remember, it was a few years ago... You'll have to ask Papink. But for all I know... he and Oshoku and the Horror and Dust of the Future have closed the portal to your original timeline. I don't know if they stayed in our timeline or not though... Nightmare and Yumerai didn't seem to want them to stay.”

Nyx's soul missed a beat:

“ ... They ...

- I can't say anything for sure, big brother, I'm sorry...”

The eldest son fell silent, feeling a wave of emotion drowning him. He looked away, but his pupils turned blue, showing his inner struggle. Paperjam looked at him sadly before coming to embrace him delicately:

“ ... You can let go Big brother ... I'm right here, I'm right here. You can ... You may no longer have your timeline, nor those who were connected to it ... but now you have a new timeline. You have a new family. And... it's... it's not so bad, no... ?”

A first tear escaped Nyx as he responded to the embrace with trembling, his voice rising in a hesitant murmur:

“Jammy...”

A second tear slid down his cheek as he squeezed his little brother tighter:

“...not so bad... Are you kidding? ... I couldn't have wished for better.”

Both of them suddenly jumped when the door slammed again. Surprised, they straightened up and, through his blurred vision, Nyx saw a small skeleton about 7 years old, with black tears and a terribly familiar azure look in his eyes.

“ ... S-Somnia... ?” he stammered.

Little Insomnia had grown up, just like Paperjam. And if his memories of an awake Nyx went back a long way, he had immediately recognized his emotions, just as he had felt the emotions of Paperjam.

Confused, the child did not have time to speak that Nightmare suddenly arrived, having also felt the emotions that emanated from the room.

He petrified at the sight of Nyx. His mouth remained half-open, in a silent hiccup, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing... and finally he turned around, only to return a few moments later in the company of Ink.

Ink rushed over his two sons and hung them in his arms:

“Oh Nyx! Nyx!” he exclaimed with emotion, caressing the elder's head, kissing his cheekbone, cuddling him as a father would have done if he had been too attentive.

Nyx was unsettled, not having expected such a reaction from the painter. Especially since his last memory of Ink was when he had disowned Etsuko?

But Ink showed him such tenderness that he felt himself melting under his caresses, and when he felt Nightmare hugging them in his appendages as well as Insomnia joining them, he cracked.

He sobbed, and then broke into tears against his youngest son, clinging to him as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And despite his hiccups, his groans of pain, his tear-ridden face...

Nyx smiled.

He smiled sincerely.

[Today was a new beginning.]

=== THE END ===

Thank you for following this story, I hope it took you on a journey! See you for future stories, hope you will enjoy it!

Don’t forget, you can support me on Utip by watching ads! ;)

Have a nice day!

#nyx #inkmare #nightkiller #errink #paperjam #insomnia #nightmare #ink #undertale #fanfiction #alternatif timeline #the end #Guardian Angel

[flamebearrel]

Okay, I‘ve barely thought about the Permadeath AU (where those that die in Smash character trailers actually die permanently) for like a year and a half, but then I was watching animation memes and I realized it could fit one really well- And that was the tipping point, cause now I’ve been developing it like crazy these past few days!!!

So buckle up, cause here’s basically a timeline of the entire plot (fair warning though, this gets VERY angsty)

Smash Ultimate is revealed and the Inklings join the game. The flaming Smash brand unintentionally notifies Galeem, at war with Dharkon, of the high concentration of potential there. He begins to move that way.

The Inklings arrive at Smash Palace, alongside Daisy, who hasn’t yet been announced. She stays in a guest room at the Palace and try to act all sneaky.

First presentation reveals Daisy and Everyone is Here. Everyone is happy... until the end of the presentation, where Ridley murders Mega Man and Mario onscreen. Without a 1-UP or Life nearby, they die permanently. The camera tries to follow Samus, who breaks it and makes everyone unsure of her demise. (See “What Just Happened?”)

Peach and several others bash a returning Crazy Hand, blaming him for sending out the Smashers that would collect Ridley since he’s usually in charge of that job. Master Hand admits that he chose them this time, because Crazy was out collecting the fighters returning for “Everyone is Here”. He takes the blame and decides to keep the responsibility of sending out people to collect newcomers, rather than making his brother do it.

Wanting to maintain order, Master Hand makes sure Luigi is prepared with 1-UPs before sending him to the Castlevania mansion. However, Galeem makes his first move, puppeteering a Reaper. Luigi’s reaped Spirit is technically still alive, so the 1-UPs fail to work.

Simon and Richter arrive at the Palace with Luigi’s corpse. At the same time, Echo Fighters Chrom and Dark Samus arrive, invited by Crazy Hand. Luigi’s body is preserved in the hospital in hopes they can retrieve the Spirit. Lucina notes that her father is acting strange, but passes it off as excitement to be in the tournament; no one knows what to expect from the largely antisocial Dark Samus.

These two Echo Fighters - actually puppets of Galeem - destroy and ransack a large chunk of the Palace before running off. Luigi’s body is crushed under the rubble. In addition, the stash of 1-UPs and several of the invitations are stolen.

In a frantic attempt to keep things moving forward, alongside the knowledge distrust is building towards the newcomers and Echo Fighters, Master Hand temporarily sends everyone home. DK invites anyone who’s too lazy to go all the way home to Congo Bongo where they can relax and calm down for a while.

King Dedede, one of the Congo Bongo visitors and someone who can’t stand the tension, tries to lighten the mood by playing some pranks on the other Smashers. However, he is out of nowhere killed by K. Rool, who received a stolen invitation from the Chrom and Dark Samus puppets and wanted to jump in with a bang. Rather than letting him in, the other fighters immediately ban him from the area and Smash in general. Crazy Hand is called over to deal with the mess, but there’s not much he can do without any life-restoring items.

Back at Smash Palace, a stressed and exhausted Master Hand who is trying to clean everything up invites Isabelle and puts together a simple video broadcast - no one is sent out to retrieve her; she simply receives the letter from the mailman. Upon arriving and seeing the chaos, she offers to take some of Master Hand’s work off his... self... and act as his right-hand secretary for the time being.

With himself finally able to focus on rebuilding, Master Hand restores the Palace to a reasonable state. Between this and Isabelle’s inclusion going well, the Smashers are relatively calmed and also more than willing to get out of Congo Bongo.

Isabelle leads the project of a cemetery for the deceased. Each dead Smasher gets a grave with their name inscribed by the Home-Run Contest field, and Dedede’s body is buried there. As this goes on, a vengeance-filled K. Rool meets up with Galeem’s puppets, offering to join them.

Master Hand, knowing that the plan calls for two more newcomers, intends to mail them their letters and just notify the Smashers afterward. However, as Isabelle looks for their whereabouts to send the letters, she finds out about a tournament both of them will be out and notifies the Hands.

Little Mac overhears this and impulsively runs off with the invitations, planning on restoring the fighters’ confidence in Master Hand with another successful recruitment. Believing there’s a standard of honor in the ring, especially from the Smashers invited, he signs up for the tournament. However, he’s proven wrong when it’s all hijacked by a Galeem-possessed Incineroar, who secretly removes various safety precautions. When Mac is defeated by Ken, he goes flying too far and is killed by the exploding scoreboard. Mere minutes later, Incineroar murders Ken in the same way.

With the invitations burned, one of the invitees dead and the other puppeted, morale drops again, reaching an all-time low. Two more graves are added to the cemetery, and Master Hand promises there are no more newcomers. No one cares enough to believe him.

A few days later, there’s a Piranha Plant growing by Samus’s grave, gnawing at it. Before it can be shooed or uprooted, it takes a few people to help an injured - but SURVIVING - Samus, who was on her way back to the Palace. She explains to them that at the end of her battle with Ridley, a beam of light had intercepted them and began puppeteering him. Her investigation had led her to find out about Galeem, who had imprisoned Luigi’s Spirit and taken over multiple newcomers.

Resolve spreads over the remaining Smashers, who come together and start devising plans to go against such a threat to the universe. They don’t listen to the Master Hand, and it’s difficult for them all to cooperate, so Isabelle manages the various groups. Crazy Hand goes out to glean more information about Galeem.

With a very weak message to Master Hand, Crazy Hand alerts him of Galeem’s location and upcoming plans. They don’t hear from him after that, and he does not return. At the same time, the operations are falling apart, due to the lack of knowledge on Galeem and his forces and the continual stress of everything.

When the day comes that they need to take on Galeem, they aren’t at all confident. Master Hand decides to try and bring them all together, and they finally give him one last chance, with Isabelle’s urging. He convinces them that whatever happens, they’re all still together, they will face it together and take it together, no matter what.

So they fight. And fight, harder and harder, with all their might. But in the end, Galeem wins, taking them all down, and together they face their final moments.

The End :)))))))

I’m so sorry that it doesn’t have a happy ending fjshfjdj this is the saddest AU I have

#tw: death #tw: murder #tw: injury #tw: grieving #smash bros au #smash bros #smash ultimate #super smash bros #super smash bros ultimate #just gonna tag the major players of this au #master hand #isabelle #galeem #crazy hand #mario #mega man #megaman #samus #samus aran #luigi #king dedede #little mac #ken #ridley #chrom #dark samus #king k rool #incineroar #piranha plant #permadeath au

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose ch. 67 - The War Dog in the Slips

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: None Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland, Cailan/Anora (background) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

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This letter is written on fine paper, in a steady if slightly scrawling hand, pressed with the seal of a rose in burgundy wax.

 Twelfth day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Dear Cailan,

Rosslyn agreed to marry me! She said yes, can you believe it? I know Brantis says personal matters should come after business in official correspondence, but this is important. She’s going to be my wife. I know I didn’t tell you I planned to ask her, or really ask permission, and I’m sorry for that. Everything after the battle was so muddled. To be honest when I did the words sort of slipped out without me really thinking about them, but I know you’ll be happy for me – us. There’s an us now.

Fergus has agreed to the match, to make it official as the head of her household, although Rosslyn said she would have challenged him to a duel if he’d refused, and of course after all the excitement died down she just had to go and be clever and point out there would need to be a wedding if I really wanted her to be my wife.

Since I do (very much) that’s part of the reason for this letter – neither of us know how to plan a wedding. The last one either of us attended was yours, and of course we didn’t have any hand in the arrangements. Rosslyn (my wife-to-be!) has been quiet about it, but I know she feels a bit out of her depth and misses the experience her parents might have shared with her, but we would both be honoured if you and Anora would lend your wisdom. She is writing a similar request to her grandparents in the Storm islands, and – she’s just smiled at me and now I’ve completely lost my train of thought. I never thought I’d be so lucky.

In any case, we should be with you in Denerim within two weeks, though our departure from Highever may be delayed for a few more days. R is worried about her brother’s condition, even though Enchanter Amell has agreed to stay behind and continue as his healer, and she herself is recovering only slowly from her injuries – slower than she would like, anyway. She has resumed training since you left, and is determined as I’ve ever seen her. Despite the strain, she’s insistent on learning the use of her left hand for more than just shieldwork. I understand why, but she keeps accusing me of clucking over her like a broody hen. I would have thought I’d merit something a little more impressive, like a dragon, or maybe a griffin. When I say that it makes her laugh, at least, so it isn’t all bad.

But I cannot take up an entire letter talking only about my betrothed(!) when the report of your victory in Denerim lies on the desk in front of me. We hope all is well, and that casualties have been minimal. We have also received news of unrest in Amaranthine, from both the banns and the people, which I hope won’t cause too much of a delay in us joining you, but aid has to be brought to the freeholders and sedition routed before it really takes root. One day, we’ll have a year where the entire country isn’t at its own throat – won’t that be nice.

Your brother,

Alistair

PS, She knows about the book. I’ll say no more and only mentioned this much because otherwise you’ll ask and then she’ll ask why I’m blushing and then I’ll have to tell her. Just know I’m happier than I thought possible, and that your advice is something I don’t know how to repay.

--

Cailan’s grip on the letter warped the paper as he scanned it a second time, the carefree betrayal of happiness turning a sour feeling in his stomach. His thoughts were unworthy of him, but shadows had preyed on his mind since the battle at Highever, twisting even the most innocent of gestures into cynical attacks, and it took effort not to perceive every line as a slight. He ought to be happy for Alistair, that his brother and Rosslyn had found contentment together, but the snide hollow in his mind that had been gaining a louder and louder voice in recent days pricked at the fragile walls he tried to build around his charity. Would it really be too far a stretch to believe the letter a veiled crow of triumph, his half-brother gloating that he had won the affection of the woman who rallied armies around her with a mere word and whose smile lit her face like the first grace of morning? To think of the queen she would have made…

She blamed him for what happened to her, he knew. He had been too paralysed by the strange terror that had come over him to run to her aid before the walls of Castle Cousland, and that shameful hesitation had almost cost her life. The sudden still on the battlefield haunted him. The shriek of pierced metal and the silence that followed chased him through his nightmares every time he closed his eyes, mocking him, goading him with the lack that everyone had seen in him since he took the throne. Maric would not have hesitated so; the great rebel king who had saved Ferelden would have rushed to put himself before the blade, would have won the heart of the fair maiden, would have halted Loghain’s descent into madness before it even began and thereby spared his subjects the chaos of war.

And Alistair – his brother was a proven warrior, amiable and respected. What had Rosslyn seen in him that she had not seen in the king himself? The pair of them must laugh at him, whispering secrets and plans in their bower as they held each other close. They had stood against Eamon, and won the trust of the Storm Islands – how short a leap it would be, with the other deals they must have made in Orzammar, and the Bannorn, and across the Waking Sea, for them to supplant him. When they reached Denerim, the people would cheer them as deserving heroes and the court would fawn over them while he looked on and was forced to smile even as they drove the dagger into his back.

One of the logs in the fire cracked and fell into two pieces. As the sparks vanished up the chimney, Cailan rubbed a hand down the side of his face and deliberately folded the letter from Alistair before laying it aside on the desk. He was sleeping poorly, and the fatigue made him restless, suspicious. On some days, even Anora turned into an enemy, one whose movements he tracked down to the wine she poured for him, so that he might discover any hint she still took her father’s side and only waited to overthrow him. In those moments, he dreaded that Rosslyn had told the queen of the half-baked plan to divorce her, and any protest from the more valiant part of himself was smothered by the knowledge that the Gwaren soldiers paroled at Highever had sworn their loyalty to his wife, and not to him.

“The people are starving, the nobles discontented, and sleep will not come for me,” he grunted, reaching for the decanter of brandy he had set on the table next to him. “I suffer nothing more.” The lies slipped away more easily with drink, and the fog that settled over him was preferable to the chase of dreams through his mind, the swirls of green smoke and voices calling out in reproach.

Next to him, an elderly mabari with milky eyes and a grey mask of fur around her muzzle lifted her head to whine at him.

“I know, Biscuit. I should know better than to disturb your naps with my malaising.” He reached down to stroke her head as she dropped it on his lap. “Any insight you can give me into Loghain’s plans would be helpful.”

There was the truly disturbing part. Rosslyn’s bartered blood mage had revealed that Erimond had planned to open a gateway to the Fade using the bloodshed at Highever, and whether or not Loghain had been party to the full plan, only luck had turned the battle’s purpose before the ritual was completed. All intelligence now pointed to a search for an equally powerful source of entropic energy. Regardless of whether Erimond found it, the threat to Ferelden now went beyond mundane civil war.

Biscuit whined again, and added her paw to Cailan’s knee, looking up with the same imploring, white-rimmed gaze she had first used on him as a pup when he had walked through the kennels on his twentieth birthday. The door to the study opened and he caught the smell of lavender and orange flowers, Anora’s winter perfume, and the tap of her shoes on the floorboards. Tail wagging, the dog creaked to her feet and limped over to ask for attention from the newcomer.

“What do you have there?” the queen asked as she bent to scratch between Biscuit’s shoulders. Her gaze swept over the accounts and reports organised on his desk, the ones he had been perusing when his thoughts took their dark turn. At first, she had been surprised that he applied himself voluntarily to bureaucracy, had been snide about Rosslyn’s apparent ability to train him to paperwork when his own wife could not, but in the time since arriving in Denerim, she had offered only help. He pushed away the thought that she was just waiting for him to prove himself incompetent and offered her a smile.

“It’s a letter from Alistair,” he said. “My brother has asked Lady Rosslyn to marry him, and she has accepted.”

She nodded. “They deserve some happiness after all of this – her especially. It is a shame her parents are not here to marry them out of her own house.”

“A greater shame that they were murdered,” he replied.

Anora pursed her lips, deciding whether to rise to the bait, but straightened her shoulders after a moment and crossed the room to lay yet more papers onto his desk.

“I came to bring you the scout reports from the Southron Hills,” she told him. “Though I hope you will not linger as late tonight as you did yesterday. You need your rest, and Ferelden needs it too.”

Meeting the pale blue gaze, Cailan slumped. His wife stood with the same neutral poise that had so fascinated him growing up, her hands folded in front of her and every golden hair on her head perfectly set in place, waiting for him to respond. And he was being unworthy, as sulky as he ever was as a teenager realising his life would never truly be just his alone. The events of the past year were not her fault; Loghain had used them both to further his own ambitions.

“Forgive me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am suffering a lack of sleep, now I think on it.”

The narrow shoulders, held so stiff and straight, relaxed slightly. “I worry for you.”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he suggested, conviction settling the tremor in his voice. “We can… talk.”

“I am at my husband’s disposal, of course,” she answered, the smile she turned on him guarded, but genuine in the way it brought a crease to the corners of her eyes.

“Good. That’s – good.”

The past could not be undone, but nor could he step forward with despair keeping pace like a hound at his heels. Unless he fixed the problems that had led to war in the first place, he might find himself sitting in the very same position at some point in the not-so-distant future, presiding over a divided court with bodies towering on both sides. It was not just a habit for paperwork Rosslyn had drilled into him over the months on campaign; her wisdom haunted him. One who cannot keep the peace has not yet won it.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #rosslyn cousland #cousland #f!cousland #alistair x cousland #king cailan #queen anora #cailan x anora #the falcon and the rose

[the-omni-princess]

Blood Bound [Chapter Six]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Vampires and witches have been known enemies since the dark ages. Backstabbing, secrets, and magic turned supernatural brethren again each other. As a natural-born witch, you grew up on these stories, your own monsters under your bed. What happens when one of those sworn enemies claims that you are his blood mate, the vampire equivalent of a true mate? Will you give in to this man out of time? Or destroy him for the sake of your Coven?

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: fluff, angst, first time meetings, minor character death, minor injuries, near death, vampire stuff, blood, sacrifices, cursing, mature talk, sex talk (I think this is all the warnings if I missed something please let me know)

A/N:

Also, how do people like the “previously on” bit? Should I just erase it? Stop using it? (I don’t use the previously for word counts)

Also, AHHHHH my fav chapter so far, finally enough build-up TO DO SOEMTHIGN

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[Series Masterlist]  [My Masterlist] [Playlist Inspired by the Series]

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Previously…

“Holy shit, I died in the Salem Witch Trials,” your voice rang out throughout the room. Bucky squeezed your hands gently, and you let him act as your tether to the mortal whelm. “We were killed by the very Council that had sworn to protect all witches, and you were saved by the vampires we were told by them to fear.”

“Well, this is just getting deeper and deeper. Before you know it, you’ll be telling me the Coven to the North died because they found out the Council has been killing Naturals.” Tony quipped from the side of the room.

The room froze, taking in the statement. “Well, it would explain a lot,” you murmured. “They were getting powerful, and dominant witches who don’t need as much energy to have magic aren’t easy to control.” That was the last connecting dot. The darkness in the distance wasn’t just some mythical monster. It was the very same man that stood in your living room and drank your tea just an hour ago.

--

“But all of that leads to the question of, where are Nebula and Gamora? Their bodies weren’t found with the Mountain Coven.” Maria rubbed behind Sasha’s ears, enjoying the cat’s insistent purring as she curled up on her lap.

“Mountains… Oh shit, if the Council is going to start investigating the Mountains, I need to warn Steve and Sam. Our hotel is right at the base of the mountains, the Council will blame us first.” Bucky’s grip on your hand faltered, nervously tapping his foot.

“That’s less than an hour away right? Go, bring them here.” It was a simple solution, and yet you had multiple people against it.

“We are not housing the bloodsuckers, y/n. No damn way.” Carol stood, puffing up her chest. It was most likely unconscious, as she tried to assert dominance, but you weren’t buying that.

“Listen, you trust me, I trust Bucky, Bucky trusts these two. The Council will murder them for even being in the vicinity of the Coven’s murders. Please, we have to. They’re his family.” Your hands started to spark, your emotions rising as you tried to plead with your sisters.

Most of them were not going to be happy about housing vampires, so you tried one last thing. “We have to be different than the Council.” That had Wanda and Maria turning away, Maria focusing solely on the cat, and Wanda finding the book she held open very interesting. Natasha and Pepper both were proud of you standing up for your Blood Mate, though the later still thought you were insane.

Carol had calmed down, enough that she saw your hands sparking, to which Bucky had no issue with. The usual burning sparks didn’t affect him as he gladly held onto you. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But at this point, it was going to join a long list of ‘things that were supposed to be impossible,’ right under reincarnation. She sighed softly, running her hand through her short hair before placing both hands in her overall pockets. “Fine. But I still don’t trust them.” She warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

Despite the literal death looks, Bucky beamed a goofy smile, elated to earn the, though hesitant, trust of your Coven. Looking up at him, your heart melted. Seeing his crystal clue eyes sparkle as he smiled made you wonder why the Council even started to hate Vampires in the first place. “Go. I’ll be here, waiting.”

“I’ll be just a minute. Promise, Sweetling,” he grinned, a peak of his fangs showing in his smile as he leaned slightly down and kissed your temple before rushing off.

“Okay, well how can I hate him if he’s that adorable?” Tony whined, wanting the attention he was currently lacking.

“You literally wanted to kill him twenty minutes ago, Tones,” you gave him a pointed look.

He simply shrugged, “That’s before he was calling you sweet names. I’m only protecting you, kid.”

You shot him an appreciative smile before pulling the book Wanda had shown you closer. God, that drawing did look like you. Charcoal with yellow aging lines in the paper, a few smudges, but it most definitely looked like you but in a pilgrim dress, complete with a bonnet covering your hair. While you grazed through the surrounding paragraphs, Bucky had arrived again, this time flanked by two very nervous looking vampires.

Now set on edge, the entire Coven was tense, staring down the newcomers. You stepped forward, giving them a small smile and stretching out your hand towards them. “Hello, welcome to my home, I’m y/n.”

The two new vamps gave each other a look before the darker-skinned man stepped forward. He took your hand and bowed, locking eyes with you as he kissed your knuckles. “A pleasure to meet you, miss. I’m Sam, and the blonde idiot behind me is Steve,” he smiled warmly, a hint of fangs peaking behind his lips.

You blinked a few times, unsure how to react before Bucky thankfully took over. “Okay, okay, we get it, you have good manners. Hands off my girl, or I’ll get the silver,” he growled playfully, taking your hand from Sam and pulling you against his chest protectively. You blushed, tugging yourself away while giving him a glare before looking towards the two new vampires, unsure how to explain the insanity that was currently your life.

The blonde, Steve, took a step forward, hands in his pocket as he assessed you with a once over. “So, you’re the infamous Theodosia?” He wondered aloud.

Sparks lit up behind your eyes for a split second, “Is there a problem with that?” You challenged, squaring your shoulders and standing a little straighter, chin a little higher. You wouldn’t admit it, but Steve was intimidating; tall, broad shoulders and the knowledge that human killing fangs were just beneath those plush lips gave him a darker aura. Yet you had a strong feeling he was just as much of a puppy dog as Bucky was so you didn’t let your fear show.

Steve smirked faintly, relaxing, “None at all. Just curious is all. I’ve always wondered about the woman Buck would talk about in his sleep.” Bucky went red at the statement, glaring daggers at his packmate.

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling warmly. “Well, make yourself at home. Look out for Tony, he bites. If you need me, I’ll be looking for more spells for memory loss, or information on the Council, or on Soul Bindings,” you turned, Tony growling at the two, picking up a new book and plopping down on the windowsill. You frowned, quickly scanning through the pages, most of the Coven either joining you in looking for more information or in Carol’s case, practically interrogating Steve and Sam.

Bucky sat beside you, and you, not wanting to get distracted, kept flipping through pages while biting your lip. He slowly leaned his head against your shoulder, “You look cute when you're worried,” he murmured.

You couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on your face, “Well, I am worried. I’m hoping for some sort of improving memories spell. I want to remember you. Fully. Not just glimpses of the life we used to share.” You sighed softly, closing one book to open another. “I don’t want you to forget me again,” you admitted in a soft voice. It was selfish, after all, he didn’t choose to be turned, and yet, you were horrified this was all some joke. That you were being too trusting, or that it was all too good to be true, or, worse, there was something bigger and darker hiding in the shadows about to strike.

“I’m scared I’ll forget you too,” he admitted softly. Pausing between pages, the library now mostly empty, only Natasha quietly flipping through pages on the sofa, it felt more intimate. “I’m terrified. I just found you, I’m finally remembering again, and yet, I’m immortal. I’m just going to lose you again.”

Turning towards him, you tilted his chin up before cupping his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned against your touch. “I’m not going anywhere, James. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” He nodded faintly, losing himself to your touch, smiling warmly. “You don’t want to turn me, do you?” You questioned lightly.

“God no. I wouldn’t wish this curse upon my worst enemy. I want you to live a long healthy, normal life.” He quickly responded.

“Alright, relax vampy, it was only a question,” you teased.

Comfortable silence surrounded you two, content in simply existing beside each other. You ran your hand through his hair tenderly, letting him lean against you as you skimmed pages. Hours passed like this, quiet and searching, satisfied in the small moments. You didn’t learn much, not enough information was being written about Naturals, and even less so about Soul Bound Naturals, but you got the jest. Powerful alone and lethal together. Threatening one tended to make the other go wild. Hurting one hurt the other. They were each other’s greatest strength and worst weakness. You also had read up on vampire history, learning a bit more about your current nap buddy. Speaking of, you were also fairly sure Bucky had fallen asleep against you, not that you minded much. You realized this morning he must not have fed in a while, and he must be drained. You absentmindedly started thinking of how to bring up the subject of feeding to him.

A sharp crash in the other room had both of you jumping to your feet. You must have dozed off, the book you were reading was on the ground, and your hair mused. Sharing a look, the two of you rushed to the sound, keeping pressed to the walls.

A Council Member, Jack Rollins, stood there, a dagger pressed against Maria’s throat. You froze in the doorway, just out of sight, pressing your hand against Bucky, pushing him back through the door. Rollins was surrounded by the Coven, each with eyes burning straight into the man before them. Tony had his fangs bared, Sam and Steve beside him, fangs also bared, eyes red. Maria herself looked almost bored, rolling her eyes at the man’s threats, despite the blade against her throat.

“This isn’t that difficult, just give us the girl and her little Leech and we can get this over with. She’s a traitor who worked with bloodsuckers to kill the Mountain Coven, last chance. Turn her in.” He warned, a sick smile on his face as the dagger dug into Maria’s throat, making her whimper softly as the knife dug deeper, a trickle of blood dripping down her neck.

“She’s not here, just leave Maria alone!” Wanda’s eyes glowed red, hands swirling in burgundy, the Coven beside her, each witch faintly glowing in power, standing their ground.

“It’s either her or this little witch,” the man snarled, taking a step back and dragging Maria by her hair.

“Stay here, please,” you begged Bucky.

He gave you a glare, whisper yelling a response. “Fuck no, I can’t just-“

“Bucky, please. They’ll need you to figure out the memories, I can handle him.” You insisted, eyes boring into him, pleading for him to understand.

He finally nodded, albeit, hesitantly. “Please stay safe, Little Witch,” he murmured, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The air was tense, his face only centimeters away from yours, and if Maria wasn’t about to get her throat slit in the other room, you would probably have had enough guts to kiss him. And yet, Maria needed you. Your Coven needed you.

Taking a step into the room, you let your electricity crawl up your spine, down your palms, the sparks gathering everyone’s attention. “Hey asshole, I’m right here. Let her go and get out of my house.” The sparks turned hot blue, your eyes most likely reflected the same color.

He simply laughed, tugging Maria against his chest as a human shield. “Where’s your little Blood Sucker? Got rid of you that easy? Eh, whatever, doesn’t matter. Let’s go, Natural.”

You swallowed against the bile in your throat. Him saying that out loud send a wave of anxiety through your body. “Let. Her. Go.” You countered.

He tossed a pair of cuffs at you, and you caught them easily, making sure they didn’t fall to the ground. “Wear those first.”

“Cuffs? Kinky, but I’m seriously not interested in you like that. Sorry, Darlin’”

“They’re power dampeners. Either put them on and come with me, or witchy savior here will be a reenactment of the Red Wedding,” he responded, growing frustrated.

Seeing no choice, and pointedly ignoring your sisters, you put the cuffs on, the sparks from your body dying out with a fizzle. Your coven had protected you since you were little, it was time to take responsibility. It was time to protect them. It was an easy decision really, you would die for your sisters without a second thought. “All cuffed up, my safe word is Pumpernickle. Now, let my sister go.”

He simply replied with a wicked smirk, the silver dagger moving away from Maria as he tossed her aside. Rough calloused hands grabbed onto you, the knife now lodged against your throat. “Sorry, not into knife play, darlin’” you snarled, squirming in his grip.

“God, do you ever shut up?!” He scowled, clearly getting more agitated.

“Nope, and you didn’t bring a gag so you're out of luck!” You ignored the faint burn of the dagger as it turned into your neck.

“Hush, unless you want your coven to know what the inside of your throat looks like,” he growled into your ear, fear shooting through your body. Nat took a step forward, gripping her own knives. “Take another step and she won’t be the only witch I kill tonight,” he warned. “Let’s go, fight and I’ll just pick one of them,” he nodded towards the vampires. He dragged you backward and at the last moment, Natasha took another careful step forward.

Time seemed to slow as you watched in horror. Rollins threw the knife, with absolute precision. It hurled towards Natasha, and yet a blur intersected its path towards its target. Bucky fell to the ground, the silver dagger buried in his chest, graphite grey veins and skin starting to grow outwards from the wound. Silver could kill vampires.

You cried out, a feral screech clawing from your throat as you let your emotions consume you. Electricity crackled, and you abruptly realized the cuffs around your wrists were broken and smoking on the ground at your feet. Agony shot through your chest as you leaped forward, kneeling beside Bucky.

“No, no, no, no. Why would you do that, you absolute idiot!” You cried out, tugging him into your body protectively, your hands struggling to find purchase near the blade. His own body was unaffected by the electricity sparking in your hands as you lost control. Vampires didn’t bleed, but they could turn ashen and die. And as Bucky started to turn grey, his veins turning lead, you realized this could be it. He would die trying to protect your Coven from the people who took you from him in the first place.

“I know what it’s like to lose family, y/n…” He gulped faintly, words starting to slur as he pulled the dagger out, tossing it aside. “Losing your Coven would devastate you. I couldn’t let you live like that.” He tenderly pushed a curl of hair behind your ear before running his thumb across your cheekbone.

Your vision blurred, practically sobbing as you held his hand closer to your face. “But I can’t lose you when we just found each other again. James, please,” you pleaded, your hands starting to tremble. Agonizing anguish started to fill your chest, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You tried to keep calm, tried to think of ways to fix this.

“You always were the stronger one, Theo. I promised to keep you safe, and yet you protected yourself. You’re strong, Little Witch. You’ll move on just fine without me,” His voice was getting weaker, and you were vaguely aware of Nat trying to calm you with her powers from across the room, and the fact that where Rollins was standing there was only a pile of ash and scorch marks on the carpet.

“But I don’t want to. Bucky, please,” you pleaded, hot wet tears streaming your cheeks. “Not without you.” You were most definitely shaking now, grief clouding your mind. “I haven’t told you that I’m falling in love with you. This lifetime, right here, right now. My goofy and mischievous, tenderhearted vampire.” You murmured, his cool hand pressed against your cheek. The words echoed in your ears. Vampire. “James?”

Your voice was meek, and his hand twitched, weak in your arms as he replied. “Yes, Little Witch?”

“Fed from me,” you whispered.

“I can’t use you like that…” he groaned softly, the grey veins climbing his neck. “I might not be able to stop, Y/n,” he warned.

You nodded, sniffling softly. “I trust you, Bucky. The ultimate trust, right? I trust you to stop, and even if you don’t…” The words were unspoken but were understood between the two of you. ‘I would die for you.’

“Okay, Sweetling,” he conceded, body too weak to fight your stubbornness.

You raised your wrist to his mouth, “All yours, Angel Eyes,” you whispered softly. He kissed your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine. For a starving and dying vampire, he showed an immense amount of restraint and control. The artery in his neck turned light grey, the strain shown in his features. You glanced at your coven sisters, all of which were showing a variety of reactions. Mostly surprise you would do this, but Nat and you locked eyes. She could always feel your emotions the best out of the entire coven, and now all she felt was desperation and hope, yet she also felt an unspoken emotion. Love.

Looking back down at Bucky as he bared his fangs, he looked up at you before sinking them into your wrist, his vampire instincts taking over as he slowly drank from your lifeline. The coloring returned to his face, grey lines and skin disappearing completely. But he kept drinking, practically growling into your arm as his eyes flashed red before closing them, concentrated in what he was doing. You ran your free hand through his hair weakly as black spots filled your vision. “I love you, Bucky,” you murmured incoherently just as the black abyss pulled you into unconsciousness. An overwhelming sense of calm filling you.

---

Soft, enchanting humming pulled you into the world of the living. The velvet cushioning of your favorite blanket was wrapped around you, a cool arm draped across your waist, your face pressed into a chilled body. Even groggy you realized exactly who it was, and you didn’t hesitate to nuzzle deeper into his arms.

“James,” you murmured, your voice sounded raspy, wrecked. You most unquestionably noticed the satisfying feeling in your chest, as if being wrapped in his arms was the only place on Earth you belonged in.

“I’m sorry, Little Witch. I should have stopped sooner,” he whispered softly. You noticed he was playing with the ends of your hair, twirling the curls around his finger.

“I told you,” you managed to speak in a small voice, “I trusted you to stop. Even if you didn’t, I made that choice.”

He chuckled faintly, “Thought Tony was going to murder me, definitely looked ready to. Natasha stopped him, said you felt at peace.” He sighed as he pulled away gently, tilting your chin up to lock eyes with him. You absentmindedly noticed you were alone in your room, laying on top of the covers of your bed, contentedly cuddled close. “You were ready to die to save me.”

“You were dying to save my Coven sister.” You let your eyes close as you leaned against his touch, your own hands pressed against his chest. “I would blame it on my emotions, but I would do it again without hesitation.” You smiled faintly into his touch, kissing his palm that rested against your cheek. “My Angel Eyes.”

Your eyes fluttered open, everything felt at ease with him here. You caught him glancing down at your lips, making your smile widen. “Bucky?” He hummed in response as you leaned your forehead against his. “Please kiss me.”

His responding smile set your heart on fire. “As you wish, Sweetling,” he murmured, closing the distance and kissing you. He held your face in his hands tenderly, his own soft lips perfectly slotting against your own. You leaned forward as you deepened the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He groaned softly in response, pushing forward as he took control of the kiss, which sent a warm spark down your spine. His breathing hitched, and beneath your fingertips, you felt a small thump. You both froze, eyes widening as you pulled away.

“Did… Did your heart just beat?” you murmured softly, trying not to notice how his lips were starting to get kiss swollen.

He nodded, eyes just as wide as yours. “I thought I imagined that.”

You shook your head, the words of one of the Binding books coming back to you. “Bound are each other’s strengths and weaknesses. A heartbeat is a weakness for a vamp.” You tried to reason.

He chuckled, “And here I thought I was going to reason that you’re my life and found your way back to me.”

Blushing, you couldn’t stop the smile from lighting up your features. You also finally realized you were all alone, the house quiet. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. Everyone went to Pepper’s house. Wanda said something about giving us space.” He shrugged, still busy thinking about the implications of a heartbeat. Was he becoming alive again?

“Hey, Bucky?” You whispered softly.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.” He obliged, closing the distance to kiss you again. He was the one to deepen the kiss first, gentle yet dominating, demanding your full attention. You got lost in his touch, pressed against him as his hand around your waist pulled you tighter against him. “James,” you practically purred against his lips.

He groaned softly, smirking. “I love it when you say my name.” His lips brushed against yours, easily pulling your mouth back on his.

“Then I’ll keep saying it, Angel Eyes,” you murmured, pulling far enough off of him to run a hand through his fluffed up and mused hair. He groaned softly, making you grin as you lightly traced your fingertips against his scalp. “I want to remember, Bucky. Help me remember and I help you remember? All of it? From the beginning? I know a witch from another Coven who can help us.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, lips brushing past yours as he nodded. “All of it, Sweetling. From the beginning. And Theo?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

--

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[reginrokkr]

"I heard two cadets talking the other day about souls. Where do you think... a soul goes to when someone dies?" [eight]

Crimson clouds dye the heavens lying in wait outside the Altocrystarium, a facility hidden from people and with restricted access limited exclusively to the Archsorceress and Class Zero. Every step to the altar is punctuated by an ominous echo that gathers a more spectral meaning once the device is activated— intriguing how it apparently registers the mark of the digit or perhaps the very soul in recognition to whether display the true nature of this place to its newcomer or merely remain unmoving and harmless.

Strikes of carmine emerge from where Ace pressed his thumb that illuminate the infrastructure, the golden device turns and reveals a glowing eye that calls forth all the gaseous forms with colors of the rainbow to fly within the confines of this prison.

❝I heard two cadets talking the other day about souls. Where do you think... a soul goes to when someone dies?❞ He hears Eight talk almost hesitantly, who accompanied him to release the phantomas Mother asked them to gather for a new enchantment she has been working in. Cyan irises shift towards the monk momentarily before rising his hand towards his own heart, eyes shutting close to mutter words in a foreign language which serves as the catalyst for the colorful blobs of light to emerge from Ace and join the many others that fill the Altocrystarium. Ultimately, he turns to look properly at Eight in silent thought.

He doesn’t know?

❝Tell me, Eight. What do you think phantomas are?❞ Slight disappointment stirs within the blond cadet when he meets nothing but quiescence from the brawler, albeit he cannot blame him for his ignorance on the matter. Well cognizant he is that in the many years they have spent together, they asked Mother many questions only to be responded with caring words disguised in excuses to not delve any further in the matter. No matter how much he loves her, Ace knows that knowing too much unsettles Mother and being ignorant to the most obvious of topics exasperates her. ❝Phantomas... they are the life essence of every living being. To put it simple, they are the souls you so wonder where they go once people die.❞

A pregnant silence fills the air with the implications of such statement blossom. Vermilion irises widen in what he assumes to be shock, soon to be evaded with the discomfort it causes Ace to look at Eight in the eye in this precise moment. Not many are acquainted with this knowledge due to its immoral connotations— alas, ignorance doesn’t necessarily mean lack of thereof. Not allowing the souls to follow their natural course to return to the celestial father for the sake of enslaving them for magic is nothing but torture. What rest could await to these souls that will never see the other world where they shall be?

❝People die and their souls wander still in the terrestrial world— just temporarily, though. We cannot see them, but they can. They are all around us, until it is time to depart to the celestial world.❞ Solemnity lingers within cornflower irises as the cadet extends his hand just enough for a lavender-type phantoma to hover over the palm of his hand. ❝Mother taught us a forbidden incantation so we can see phantomas and then capture them, right? That is the way we have to hinder them from fading away and tie them to this world. It is unnatural, of course.❞

The albescent phantoma flies away from his hand and he turns to look properly at Eight. This time, however, he sees a silhouette that should not be here. An unnamed and faceless soldier clad in the Rubrum hood standing by the entrance that upon making what seems to be eye contact, smiles at Ace. Fair brows knit in a frown in response, suddenly reminiscing the reasons why he loathes being in the Altocrystarium as he starts hearing a myriad of whispers he cannot comprehend. ❝This is classified information.❞ He continues, walking towards him and patting his golden-plated shoulder as he passes by to emerge from the facility and towards the unmoving person. ❝I expect you not to tell this to anyone. There is a reason why magic research and enhancement has stayed a secret to this day.❞

He can feel it. Heart racing within the confines of his chest the closer he gets to the portal, stirring unnamed sentiments he cannot put name to or discern what they are. Only when the portal is about to engulf him in its light he has the feeling of seeing a pair of emerald eyes, a nose, a scar— but still nothing. All he is left with is an enormous void he doubts he can ever fill.

Who... are you?

@sentofight ⭑

#sentofight #✧･ﾟ*⋆ Let your prayers be heard; the merciful always listens. ┊Ask.┊ #◟༺✩༻◞ Tome V: Downfall of the constellations’ nemeses. ┊Sky of despair.┊ #◟༺✩༻◞ Let your prayers be heard; never cease believing in a miracle. ┊Ask.┊

[dazaiapologism]

uhhh i will probably edit and add to this but hey wanna see what i wrote today its kinda fun. answers the question: what might happen if the ADA were out for drinks and then some port mafia folks also show up after a bad day and dazai knows exactly what it feels like when chuuya is mad enough to cause tiny localized earthquakes when he walks.

    Dazai freezes as a sudden chill goes up his spine. For a second, he’s quiet, listening intently to the surrounding threads of conversation, hopping from table to table as he confirms each topic is as inane as he’d expect this late on a Friday. A cursory scan of the guests confirms he and his ADA colleagues are the most dangerous group of office workers seeking to drink the stress of the day away in their general vicinity. 

    Still, something felt unmistakably wrong. He stares blankly at his half finished drink, ice mostly melted into the liquor by now. The last lingering clump of ice ripples gently in the glass and for a moment it almost feels like the earth itself is shivering to an unsteady beat, rhythm barely held in time but still achingly familiar. As seconds pass, it seems to grow stronger and stronger, until the sensation is far too tangible to be drunk imagination.

    With that observation, Dazai’s subconscious sense for danger links with conscious thought and he knows exactly why the rhythm is familiar. Before he can act on that knowledge, his phone is buzzing in his pocket. Across the table, Kunikida is watching him with a bit too serious of an expression for Dazai’s taste. He waves cheerily and reaches for his phone. 

    The new message is from Kunikida, who lately had been developing a frustrating knack for recognizing Dazai’s thoughts. As roundabout a means of communication as it was, Dazai still feels a little touched that he’s trying so hard not to announce to the rest of the table that Dazai is on high alert.

DO NOT ANSWER: what happened

You: i was just watching the last bit of ice melt in my drink! It was really poetic actually i think i had a little epiphany about what it means to have a mortal existence

    Kunikida scans the text and frowns, then does the same sweep Dazai had just done. His frown deepens as he comes to the same conclusion Dazai had - no one in this bar seemed like trouble. What Kunikida lacks is a careful attunement to the way the earth shakes minutely in response to the more intense emotions of the Port Mafia’s rising star executive, Nakahara Chuuya. Kunikida can’t know that, judging from the current rumble, said executive was going to walk through the door any second now.

    Like clockwork, the door swings wide and several high ranking mafia members stride in just behind the worst possible person to have to share a bar with. Kunikida notices the newcomers a beat later, with an eyebrow raised as he noted Dazai’s near psychic detection of a potential threat. 

    Again, Kunikida is missing a critical piece of information, though he could hardly be blamed for it. Port Mafia executives’ identities were a closely guarded mafia secret that many people would kill to get their hands on, so it would’ve been a shock to everyone if he had been able to immediately identify the shortest member of the group as the most urgent threat in the room. 

     The identities of the two others alongside Chuuya were far less restricted information, Tachihara and Hirotsu. Kunikida must have seen them in person a few times by now, so he should know what organization they represent. The only question now is how he’ll respond. 

     Without looking away from the door for a moment, Kunikida pushed away from the table and crossed the open floor space unnervingly fast. Dazai was too far away to hear what Kunikida was saying to the group now, but judging from his stance it was something confrontational. Dazai sighs and finishes the last watered down sip of whiskey.

     “Dazai, what’s wrong?” Atsushi’s voice breaks through the jumbled crosstalk of the rest of their group. Without a word, he pointed gloomily in the direction of Kunikida, who now seemed on the verge of losing his composure entirely. Atsushi’s eyes widen in surprise, without a hint of fear either, Dazai notes. “Those are really important mafia members, aren’t they?” He nods once, almost imperceptibly to keep from drawing even more of his coworkers into the impending chaos. He’d had a hunch that the admirable mafia team that Atsushi had once glimpsed while falling through the sky might have been Chuuya’s, but his reaction now cemented it as the truth.  

    “- like you have no business in this law abiding establishment.” Kunikida’s raised voice finally reaches across the room. 

    “The mafia owns this bar, dumbass.” Chuuya announces, still loud enough to cut over the general noise of the bar. Unfortunately, the room had already fallen silent as their disagreement grew loud enough to catch the other patrons’ attention. The bartender coughed loudly from behind the counter. Chuuya glanced at the sound, then at the rest of the room, then took half a step back and tried to regain some composure. 

    Dazai fervently prays that if he sits still enough, Chuuya won’t catch sight of him as he takes stock of how many people who overheard him. Probably most of the room, since this was a small place. He’d of course known the bar was mafia owned, that was half the reason he’d picked it. The other reason was its casual atmosphere, it hardly seemed like the kind of place to find a mafia executive, which made it seem ideal at the time. 

    Upon further examination, it really should’ve occurred sooner to him that an unpretentious hole in the wall bar would actually suit Chuuya’s true taste if he was feeling particularly sick of mafia business for the day. Why had the ADA come here? Why had any of the other people come here? They were all just groups of coworkers looking to drink the stress of the day away. It was hilariously obvious, now that he stopped to think about it. 

    For the first time that night, Dazai laughs. It draws the attention of his colleagues, who in turn look in the direction Dazai’s been staring for some time now. 

    “Ah, Kunikida’s gone and gotten himself in trouble!” Dazai exclaims gleefully. Kunikida is talking in hushed tones with the bartender, who is undoubtedly informing him that they don’t want any trouble with the mafia and could he please refrain from aggravating their important guests or otherwise, take his business elsewhere? 

    Another person noticed Dazai’s laugh though, and as they finally made eye contact from across the room Dazai felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. Still, he had appearances to keep up so he just waved back sunnily, throwing in a wink for good measure. 

    “Hey Chuuya!” Dazai greeted him brightly as he approached. “Crazy seeing you here, huh?” Chuuya glowered back at him without saying a word. “Anyways, since I got here first I think you all should be the ones to find a new place to drink, okay?” The rest of the table had fallen silent, everyone’s eyes flicking back and forth between Dazai and the unknown but obviously dangerous mafia member that had approached them.

    “The fuck are you doing here, bastard?” 

    “Oh you know, just out spending some quality time with my favorite coworkers!” Atsushi yelps as Dazai throws an arm around his shoulders to emphasize how much fun they were all having together. “You’re having fun, right Atsushi?” 

    “I guess you could say that,” Atsushi answers weakly, looking a little unhappy to be abruptly drawn into what seemed like a tense conversation. Dazai lets him go.

    “I’m not in the mood to start shit. You stay in your corner and we’ll stay in ours and it’ll be like neither of us is here, okay?” For all the angry expressions he was making, Chuuya sounds surprisingly tired. Suddenly, antagonizing a Port Mafia executive in public with all his new colleagues right in the line of fire didn’t seem like a good use of energy this evening.

    “Sure, sure.” Dazai looks away, bored and dismissive. “Just keep it down, I don’t need my evening further interrupted by barking dogs.” Chuuya’s fist tightened in frustration, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned back to his companions and found a table out of the direct line of Dazai’s sight.

    The ADA table sits in uncomfortable silence for a moment, until Kunikida comes slinking back after being firmly scolded by the bartender. Dazai pokes fun at Kunikida’s natural inclination for aggression, the table laughs, and finally Dazai feels in control of the situation again. He lets out a deep breath he had barely realized he was holding, and finally relaxes into the evening again. 

+++

and the upcoming sequel when you go out for drinks with your coworkers and everyone else is done but youre an alcoholic so you stay for another drink and then another and now it’s just you and your ex rival whatever that means in a silent arms race of who will cave first and eventually you start talking because you are finally drunk. and broke.

#skk #bsd tag

[sockablock]

For brainstorming AUs, how about that AU with demon Molly and angel Yasha that you wrote a short thingum for?

OOOOOH alright alright alright, this is the OG drabble, I’m actually considering making this my next longfic after Something New, so please excuse my lack of knowledge vis a vis theological lore and let’s see what I’ve got:

Caleb, Beau, Fjord, Nott, and Jester are all college friends of varying ages and backgrounds who currently are on spring break in a small-ass northeast town, so think pine trees and still snow and lots and lots of woods

Because Beau and Fjord said it would be fun to go camping, and so far nobody else is convinced

The events of that drabble ^^^ occur, and suddenly there’s a fucking Angel and a goddamn Devil j chillin’ in the forest, and Jester decides to bring them back to the cabin

(Because they have a cabin, because Jester refused to live in a tent, so she decided to pay for one)

Beau and Caleb return to the others, before they let the Newcomers in, Caleb knocks and says “Hey, do not be afraid, okay?”

And Fjord immediately calls back “What the fuck?”

Beau opens the door, the Gang are immediately faced with two very strange looking people

In the stunned silence that follows, Caleb goes and makes some tea for everyone

One quick scene change later, the gang is sitting on the floor between the bunk beds and just sort of staring at Molly and Yasha

Eventually, Nott just raises her hand and says “Hey, uh, Do you want to maybe tell us what’s going on?”

This is appropriately dramatic, so Molly beings to explain (some details)

Yasha is in a little bit of trouble with the People Upstairs, due to a complicated series of events beyond the understanding of mortals

Beau says “fuck you, try us”

“Okay, jeez, fine”

Essentially, there’s something strange going on vis a vis the passage of death, where people’s souls are going missing and nobody can figure out where they’re going

Yasha, since her job is the Angel of Death—

“WHAT?” , “Beau, shut up, let him explain”

—got blamed for whatever is happening and was supposed to be punished (AKA “destroyed”) for fucking up this bad, but she definitely did not want that to happen

“Yeah, I can kind of see that,” says Fjord

So she ran. And figured she needed to consult someone for help, so she turned to the first person she knew that might know something about what’s going on

“A demon,” says Caleb.

“Exactly!” says Molly. 

“How the fuck do you two know each other, though?” Nott asks.

Molly shrugs. “When you manage the same planet for millions of years, you bump into each other a lot.”

“Work parties,” Yasha agrees, and they aren’t sure if she’s kidding or not.

“Anyways,” says Molly, continuing the story, he didn’t know there was anything going on about soul-y thigns either, and apparently neither did anyone downstairs. 

So there’s something fishy going on, and they’re trying to figure things out, while also trying to keep Yasha alive because “oh yeah, she’s in Heaven’s Most Wanted now, and also is slowly losing her powers

“I needed people around to blend in,” she adds. 

“You should put those wings away, then,” Nott says.

Now the gang is dragged into this crazy long mystery, they decide to help this random demon/angel figure things out the best as they can and show them around town and not attract immediate unwanted attention

And now we’re at the end of this outline and it’s really long but just as a teaser also consider this:

Somewhere along the lines, Molly is doing casual bored magic at night on the porch and Caleb sees it

Before Molly can even speak, Caleb’s right at his side and says “teach me how to do that”

There’s a moment of confused silence

And then Molly says “…I can do that, but are you sure? it’ll probably condemn your soul, you know”

And Caleb looks him right in the eyes and says “my soul is already condemned. teach me.”

Cue magic lessons, right in the middle of everything else that’s going on, because I’m a sucker for that kind of shit  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#thank youuuuuuu for askin!!! #ive really been thinking about this one lol #critical role #jay answers #au outline #critfic #cr2 #angels and demons au #jay speaks #long post #text

[penumbra-rp]

Congratulations Charlie, you have been accepted for the role of Marlene McKinnon!

The bathroom smelled like bleach for days and she looked like a fucking mess, but she’d never liked her own reflection more...  She became as loud and bold as she’d always wished to be, fierce, not afraid to say what she wanted to say, consequences be damned.

Admin Becky: Behold, the daring, reckless, vodka aunt of the Order of the Phoenix -- be still my beating heart! There are a hundred and one things I love about Marlene, but in particular I adore just how aware she is of all that she’s done for herself. She’s shed the previous pressures from her parents, stuck her middle finger up at society, and built a life that she’s proud to call her own. Giving back to her found-family that is the Order by providing them with a refuge, a safe space, a haven, tips a delicious balance between being a rebellious bad girl and a full-of-heart guardian angel. That short-tempered sharpness mixed with such caring selflessness makes me super excited to see how she interacts with our other characters!

Please check out our checklist for joining Penumbra.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Charlie

AGE: 22

YOUR BIRTHDAY: August 2nd

PRONOUNS: she/her

TIMEZONE: GMT

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Marlene McKinnon

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: she/her

FACECLAIM: Sofia Boutella

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: April 2nd

PERSONALITY:

independent: (+) If the last years have proven anything, it’s how much Marlene values her independence. How much she’s willing to do to keep it. The years as parents picture-perfect daughter, a porcelain doll really that was always supposed to function without any mistakes, the years where she didn’t have any control of her own life whatsoever - at least if she didn’t want to be a huge disappointment, didn’t want to see their love for her slowly fading away - have left their scars. Now that she has it, she defends her independence with claws and fangs metaphorically speaking. It shows daily in her dedication and hard work in the Leaky Bucket.

caring: (+)  Even though it doesn’t always seem like it judging from her sharp-tongue most people get a taste from, Marlene is actually quite empathetic and cares a lot. With no regard for time, place and circumstances, she’ll always offer a shoulder to cry on, will always try to make sure that the people she cares feel good. To be perfectly honest, she probably doesn’t care half as much about her own well-being than about that of other people. That isn’t limited to just her friends either but includes new acquaintances and often complete strangers as well. As long as you don’t get on her bad side, she’ll always try to be there for you and care about you and your problems.

direct: (+)While she’s been taught that diplomacy is one of the most valuable abilities when dealing with others, Marlene has always preferred to be open and honest with everybody she interacts with. She isn’t exactly a fan of beating around the bush. In fact, in 9 out of 10 cases you can be dead sure that she’ll tell you the truth without mincing her words, no matter how hard, ugly and painful it might be. The truth can hurt, in her opinion, you better suck it up and learn to deal with it. No matter if she’s seen as impolite, tactless, rude or downright mean because of it, she’ll tell you just the way it is, nonetheless. That’s something that can be hard to deal with, but at least you can always rely on her telling you straight up to your face when you’re doing something stupid.

short-tempered: (-)  Patience has never been her strong suit, even though she was told that it was the most important character trait for a proper young girl (after docility, obviously). And it’s gotten worse over the years. It takes very little to get under Marlene’s skin and even less for her to blow up and throw a temper tantrum. Even when these outbursts are over as quickly as they come, they’re not the most fun thing to witness, to say the least.

self-destructive: (-)  On some subconscious level, Marlene loves fucking things up for herself. Whenever something good happens in her life, one can be pretty sure that sooner or later she’ll find a way to fuck it up and ruin it. A part of it can most likely be blamed on bright-burning desire to stay as independent and free as possible, something she protects fiercely. But most of it is probably due to the fact that a part of her is afraid that sooner or later they’ll all turn into her parents. If she gives them too much power over her, they’ll start wanting to change her, form her into what they want her to be and if she doesn’t stay proactive, maybe she’ll one day wake up and have lost herself again. Even outside of relationships, however, she doesn’t have the healthiest way to treat herself. Every now and then there are periods when she gets out of control and turns into more of a drinking, smoking, swearing and fucking around mess that she usually already is. Almost as if she feels she still needs to prove a point, as if she still needs to make up for the years she wasted trying to somehow live up to the impossibly high expectations her parents had for her. Or maybe she’s actually just punishing herself for never having managed that in the first place.

unforgiving: (-)  As easily as her affection and loyalty are given, once you’ve fucked it up, there’s no turning back. It’ll take a lot to truly make her reconsider your friendship once she calls you a close friend, but if you cross that line, she’ll drop you like a hot potato and won’t ever take you back, no matter how much you plead and beg. Life is already messed up enough without backstabbing people you can’t trust in your life and she won’t waste a single second on them.

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

Marlene grew up as an only child, much to her own dismay. After all, the fact that she was the sole child meant that she was the only person her parents’ attention was focused on, the only one supposed to live up to the big expectations they had for their offspring. Sure, it was generally nice to be the center of attention, the one all the devotion and gifts could go to. After all, who doesn’t like to not having to share the spotlight? However, she’d have given it up in a heartbeat if that meant to not have to suffer through the pressure her parents put on her alone, to have somebody to have her back and help each other get through it. Quite frankly, she wouldn’t have cared about the age or gender of her sibling, just somebody to stand by her side and help her share the pressure.

Despite their current abundance of wealth, the McKinnons are ‘new-money’, have risen to the high society within the last two generations and that stuck Her parents never allowed her to forget that they’re still newcomers to some extent and that they have to try even harder to be perfect, to fit in with the upper society as well as possible, than those families who’ve been a part of it for centuries.

Even before she took her first breath, her parents already had her life planned out for her. She was supposed to be their perfect little girl, beautiful like a porcelain doll and just as quiet and obedient. They had big plans for her, she’d be the perfect example of how they’ve truly found their place in the high society. So she had a pretty strict schedule from a very young age on involving various activities and lessons her parents deemed necessary for a young girl of her status. Among those activities were lessons in Mandarin, learning how to play the piano as well as the violin, horse riding and lessons on etiquette as well as on politics and history later on. Nothing too complicated, though. After all, she should make proper conversation on various social events with that knowledge and not become a professor at college. Of course, anything but outstanding success in those lessons (and behavior, really) wasn’t permitted. Even years later Marlene can still recall the disappointed look in her parents eyes when she didn’t do something perfectly on the first try, how her mother’s lips became just a tiny bit smaller because she pressed them so firmly together, how the fine wrinkle between her father’s eyebrows, that should get even more prominent with the passing years, deepened just a little bit before they both demanded she tried again and this time did it well. And it was not like Marlene didn’t try to be as perfect as they wanted her to be. Quite the opposite, really. For years, she desperately gave her all to finally live up to their high expectations, but it was never enough. Even if she did manage to do something perfectly at the first try, there was still something else she was lacking. No matter what she did it never seemed to be good enough to please them. To fully earn their affection without a ‘but next time you’ll do better’ lying underneath it. The pressure she felt throughout her whole childhood was immense, unbearable really, and yet she persisted. Desperate for their approval and love, she continued to give at least 200% each day hoping that one day it’d be enough. It never was and the pressure continued to grow and Marlene continued to try harder.

Until she didn’t anymore. Nowadays, she can’t quite recall what the final straw was, what finally pushed her off the edge and made her stop trying to hard to be what they wanted her to be and instead try a little harder to be herself. Maybe it was the beginning of puberty hitting in, but she likes to believe that it started sooner, that she didn’t tolerate their bullying for that long. And in some ways, she truly didn’t. Even as a young girl of barely nine years, trying to be the best of her class, she showed small signs of defiance even if it was just being louder and bolder than her parents would like or spending time with people they didn’t approve of. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Still, it was nowhere near enough to relieve even some of that pressure. When puberty hit in at roundabout twelve years, she started breaking free for real. Did her best to distance herself from the image her parents created, the role they tried to force her into. It started with exchanging the pristine, proper tights her parents bought for her with fishnets that were ripped open pretty soon to add to the punk rebel-look she was now going for. Then she didn’t only cut her hair short on her own - which for itself already wasn’t exactly a piece of art - but also gave herself red highlights. The bathroom smelled like bleach for days and she looked like a fucking mess, but she’d never liked her own reflection more. Her parents, of course, were completely shocked, to say the least. To be perfectly honest, a part of her was sure that her mom would have a heart attack when she saw her new hair for the first time, but instead, she pulled through and just gave her a long and exhausting harangue about how Marlene was basically ruining their lives by being such a huge disappointment. Something that only encouraged her to stray away from what they wanted her to be even more. She became as loud and bold as she’d always wished to be, fierce, not afraid to say what she wanted to say, consequences be damned. For the first two weeks, fights and arguments happened on a daily basis in their family home, then her parents cut her off completely emotionally and didn’t talk to her apart from criticizing her passive-aggressively and what needed to be said when you live in one house together. It was tough, more than tough, there were countless times where Marlene wanted to give in, give up her strive to become her own person, but that was where her stubbornness came in and so she pulled through. Despite all the changes in personality and personal fashion, she still didn’t completely forgo her studies. Sure, she didn’t try half as much as before anymore, but that was still more than enough for a very good school diploma.

With her school diploma in hand, she signed up at Hogwarts University to study law. To be honest, it was the last thing she wanted, but after years of emotional distance and passive-aggressive warfare really, a part of her was desperately yearning to be closer to her parents again. And maybe, if she made that peace offer, they could be a family again without her having to give up her whole personality. As anybody but her probably could have said in advance, it was a stupid idea. The naive dream of a desperate, young girl who felt like she was all alone in the world with her parents barely talking to her. She’d learn the mistake of her ways pretty soon after only a few months of studying.

In the end, she dropped out of school and with that, completely lost her parents’ financial supports. The next years were tough, she worked a bunch of jobs - sometimes multiple at the same time - to hold herself over water and build a life for herself. Most jobs were a complete waste of time and so she seldom stayed long anywhere. What the days lacked in excitement and fun, she made up for with long nights out filled with drinks, hook-ups, and smokes. Desperately trying to find some purpose in life even if she’d never admit that out loud,

The Order of the Phoenix was the first thing to save her from this meaningless life. It was a wake-up call, really, something to give her life meaning again. However, her truel savior was something entirely different. When she saw the building, that had been half-burnt to a crisp during an electrical fire and was later going to become the Leaky Bucket, it was love at first sight, really, even though, objectively speaking, there was nothing much anybody could have loved. As silly as it sounds, though, (and Marlene is perfectly aware of how utterly ridiculous it sounds), there was simply this connection. She just knew she could turn it into something great. And she did. With a shit load of borrowed money, hard work (at least that she knew how to do after her strenuous childhood) and passion as well as some time, she managed to turn this ruin of a building into a great, popular pub and so much more. A safe haven where everybody could feel accepted for who they truly are without having to hide their true nature or pretend to be somebody entirely different. The sort of place she’s been craving all her life.

INTERVIEW:

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

The question conjures the hint of a smirk onto her lips. “What’s there not to love?”, Marlene retorts, one eyebrow slightly arched up, “being your own boss means you get to do whatever the hell you want to.” Buying the Leaky Bucket is one of the best decisions she’s ever made and even though it cost her a shit load of money she had to borrow (money she still hasn’t been able to fully pay back), even though there are days where she wants to go back to bed again only a few hours after getting up because of exhausting the day already has been, she can’t imagine herself doing anything else. Can’t imagine ever not being her own boss again. She’s never particularly enjoyed following orders - not to mention stupid ones and from the few jobs, she worked to earn the money for the Bucket, she can tell that there are plenty of idiotic bosses out there with even more idiotic orders - and now that she’s had a taste of what it means having complete freedom over your life, not have to listen to anybody, she won’t ever go back to being employed.

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

“My complex personality can’t possibly be described with one song.” Oh, she’s well aware of how arrogant it sounds, but there’s nothing she can do about it, it’s only true, after all. And to be perfectly honest, it isn’t even meant to flatter herself. If anybody knows how many fucked up sides her personality has, it’d be herself. “I think ‘She’s Thunderstorms’ from the Arctic Monkeys is a good fit. It strongly depends on my mood, though, so my response might be completely different tomorrow.”

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“Do I look like it does?” It’s a rhetorical question really, the ripped fishnets who’ve seen better days, the tousled hair that looked like it either hadn’t been combed in days or she’d just had sex, the days-old eyeliner, a too big flannel shirt tied around her hips. It’s not the look of somebody who cares what you think about her, not the one you’d expect from somebody of her upbringing. There used to be a time where she thought her reputation mattered to her only to realize it was her parents’ approval and love that truly mattered to her. It doesn’t anymore, though, hasn’t had for years. It doesn’t matter what we’re talking about, be it clothes, relationships, language, behavior - Marlene McKinnon does as she pleases and if anybody else has a problem with that, they can fuck off.

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

“What relationship?”, she responds dryly letting out a scornful snort. “How can you have a relationship with somebody if you haven’t talked to them in years?” That probably says all anybody ever needs to know about her ‘relationship’ with the people who brought her into this world. Calling them parents would already be a too affectionate term for how she feels about them. When she told them she’d drop out of Hogwarts after one year, they told her to either go through with it like somebody worthy of the McKinnon name would or she wouldn’t be their daughter anymore. So she shrugged and simply left. What sense would it have made to argue with them? After all, they’d made it perfectly clear how they expected her to be from a very young age, ever since she took her first breath really. Her own stupidity was to blame for having believed they could see past the expectations they had for her and accept her for who she was. She didn’t even go upstairs to grab the rest of her things that she hadn’t taken with her to her new flat. Fuck them. And fuck her parents. That was the last time she was at the town villa she grew up in, the last words she exchanged with her parents and she doesn’t intend on changing that any time soon or ever really. They’re not her family anymore.

v. What languages can you speak?

“Let me see, I was raised bilingually in French and English. I had to learn Mandarin because as my dear father always liked to say the Chinese are going to rule the world someday if they keep on growing like that”, she rolls her eyes slightly, “Had Latin in school which, of course, I can’t speak because it’s dead and all that crap, but for a while, I was quite good at reading it, actually. I know Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese well enough for a simple conversation, nothing too complicated, though.  But if you know French and Latin, they all just kind of come easy to you.” She shrugs slightly.  “Additionally, my nanny was from Russia so I know my fair share of that. It’s a little rusty, though, just like my Mandarin.”

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“The deed for the Leaky Bucket.” It’s a response she doesn’t even have to think about, no matter if it’s the most unpractical one or not. Material things like her smartphone, clothes or other stuff are all replaceable and the Leaky Bucket is the most important thing in her life, her second home, her purpose really. There’s nothing she cares about as much as she cares about that building she built up to the popular pub it is now after seeing the half-burnt building and falling in love with it at the first sight.

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

“Slytherin School of Social Science”, she says and grimaces slightly at the memory. One fucking year of her life wasted there on studying law. In retrospect, she has no idea why she even thought it was worth her time. Why after all these years she still tried to make her parents happy. Because it was only for them that she’d even considered it, not only to mention go through with it. After a complicated youth during which she argued with them on a daily basis, did her best to distance herself from the doll they wanted her to be and ensure that they understood that she’d never be that girl, she thought that there might still be hope for them to grow closer to them. So she did what she knew they’d always planned for her to do, expected of her really: study law at the Slytherin School of Social Science at Hogwarts. She hated it from the very first day. Never before had she done something more boring and terribly annoying. And yet, she pulled through for a whole year. Not that even the fact that she did it despite being obviously miserable was enough to satisfy her parents. No, all they could talk about was how it was absolutely unacceptable that she wasn’t at the top of her class, that she wasn’t passing every exam with flying colors. The moment they told her on Christmas morning that if she finally wrote an exam where she got all the points was the day they’d be proud of her, it was the final straw. The moment she truly realized that they’d never accept her for who she was,

vix. What is your social media username?

“Let’s be honest, I change my instagram handle almost as often as my underwear.” It sounds like an exaggeration, but it’s true. She changes it at least weekly, if not multiple times a week. It’s not always a completely new handle, though, she often reuses names she’s already used in the past, but so far none has been good enough to stick. Or maybe it’s just the fact that “Right now, it’s ragefulthinking, though.”

also, have a little pinterest board for her here (x)

#accepted

[theolddarkmachine]

baby, it’s cold inside

“Voltron Heating & AC, what can we do for you?” A smoke filled voice answers. There’s a pleasant rasp to it that reminds Shiro of a crackling fire.

“I need help,” he says, mentally kicking himself before he’s even finished speaking when he realizes how stupid he must sound. There’s a pause, filled only with a quiet huffing sound that he’s certain is the technician swallowing a laugh.

“What’s your name?” The man asks, key clicks providing a quiet backdrop for his question.

“Shiro,” he answers quickly, biting his tongue when he thinks that the man is probably looking for a full name.

“Takashi Shirogane,” he rectifies, noting the pause in the typing as he speaks. “My friends call me Shiro.”

Because that’s helpful, he thinks to himself, sharpening his glare at his heater. This is all your fault.

“Alright, Shiro,” the man says, and Shiro wonders if he’s imagining the way his name sounds like silk the way it’s wrapped in his voice. “How can I help you?”

Tags: Christmas Meet Cute, Fluff, Duel Flustered Disasters

AO3

A/N: It’s the holidays, and ya know what, we deserve some fluff. Shoutout to @smartcookie727 who saved me from just naming this Pilot Light XD also let’s pretend that this sounds like i know anything about heaters

************************

It’s Christmas day, and Keith is cold.

Really fucking cold.

Which is just cosmically hilarious given he’s a heating repairman working in a shop without heating. Keith is certain he’d laugh about it if his teeth weren’t chattering violently enough to chip them.

“You should go home, Pidge. Go hang out with your family,” he says through the click, praying he doesn’t catch his tongue between them.

“And leave my favorite Grinch alone on this sacred day?” Pidge says, popping her gum for dramatic effect as she flashes her bright stare up over the top of her computer. “Never.”

“I’m not a Grinch,” Keith replies, almost defiantly as he pulls a foot up into his seat and tucks his knee against his chest.

He really isn’t. It’s a common misconception that he doesn’t like Christmas. He likes it well enough.

In fact, he finds a sort of solace in it. The holidays slowed the town down, and allowed him to breathe.

They were just quiet, and always had been.

For him, at least.

I can take this Christmas off, honey, his mother had offered the week prior, as she always did.

No, the station can’t function without you, Keith had laughed, waving her off, as he always did.

Fires didn’t take holidays, and as the captain of the Garrison Fire Department, Krolia knew that better than anyone. They were used to it by now, and always celebrated their Christmas the night before. It was tradition by now, just like Pidge and her show of holiday solidarity.

And if that wasn’t enough, it also meant he got to make a monopoly on any heating disasters that might come up while everyone else was off.

Of course, it’s a decision he’s deeply regretting this Christmas with it’s record lows. He really needed to speak with whoever decided the cheaper warehouse price was worth the lack of heating.

“You have no one to blame but yourself, you know,” Pidge hums, breaking through his train of thought as she continues to click away at her keyboard. He isn’t sure if she means his reputation or the frostbite he’s certain is turning his toes black, but he elects to ignore her since he doesn’t really have an argument either way.

Solidarity be damned, he thinks as he breathes a hot puff of air between his palms. Pidge is Jewish anyways.

Quiet settles over the room, only disrupted by Pidge’s quick keystrokes and the ivory click of his teeth for what seems like an eternity before the phone rings.

Sharp and shrill, it makes him jump, the sudden motion of it shoving his shin into his desk hard enough to make him yipe.

This had been their fifth Christmas with the business, and the first time anyone had actually called during it.

“Are you going to answer that?” Pidge asks, tone curious as she flicks her look between him and the phone that’s still ringing at the edge of his desk as if he needs help finding where the sound is coming from.

Which, is valid given the way he’s gaping over to her, but she didn’t need to know that.

Nodding curtly, Keith reaches for it, pressing the answer button before he has it halfway to his ear as he rubs at his throbbing shin.

“Voltron Heating & AC,” he says, trying his best to not chop up his words through his chatter, “what can we do for you?”

***

It’s Christmas day, and Shiro is cold.

Really fucking cold.

He’d known he had bad luck, what with the career ending accident and the semi-newness of singledom that had left a little dark rain cloud over his holidays, but he hadn’t thought he’d be so unlucky for his heat to crap out on him on Christmas.

Ho ho freaking ho, he thinks bitterly as he stares at his lifeless heating system. The large metal rectangle didn’t even have enough in it to give one last death rattle as it just sat silently before him.

It looks more like a gravestone than a heater.

To make matters worse, Shiro doesn’t even know where to start with the damn thing to try and fix it himself.

He knew all the intricacies of various space crafts, and yet in the face of a heating system, he was rendered useless. Which, honestly just felt like the cherry on top of the shit sundae that had been his year.

Typical.

Heaving a sigh, Shiro kicks halfheartedly at the heating system before pulling his phone from his front pocket.

Pulling up Google, he searches ‘heating repair open christmas day,’ accepting Google’s oh so helpful suggestion of tacking on ‘near me’ at the end before pressing enter. There seems to be a momentary pause that’s just long enough for Shiro to imagine the search engine returning his inquiry with a big middle finger before it brings up a list of all the HVAC technicians in the area.

All in which have CLOSED plastered right beside their names in bold.

All, except one.

Boasting five stars from enough reviewers to make the rating seem legit, Shiro clicks the number beneath the name, not bothering to check their website for pricing.

Desperate times called for desperate measures and he was willing to pay what he needed to to regain feeling in his toes.

“Voltron Heating & AC, what can we do for you?” A smoke filled voice answers. There’s a pleasant rasp to it that reminds Shiro of a crackling fire.

“I need help,” he says, mentally kicking himself before he’s even finished speaking when he realizes how stupid he must sound. There’s a pause, filled only with a quiet huffing sound that he’s certain is the technician swallowing a laugh.

“What’s your name?” The man asks, key clicks providing a quiet backdrop for his question.

“Shiro,” he answers quickly, biting his tongue when he thinks that the man is probably looking for a full name.

“Takashi Shirogane,” he rectifies, noting the pause in the typing as he speaks. “My friends call me Shiro.”

Because that’s helpful, he thinks to himself, sharpening his glare at his heater. This is all your fault.

“Alright, Shiro,” the man says, and Shiro wonders if he’s imagining the way his name sounds like silk the way it’s wrapped in his voice. “How can I help you?”

***

Standing in front of the crimson door, Keith thinks he knows what to expect.

While their town isn’t necessarily small, it is small enough for him to know about the the newcomer that had moved there in the past month.

He’s a veteran, so they say, fresh out of rehab from an accident and taking up a position at Allura’s family practice. Kind, even though life has given him enough reason not to be, Takashi Shirogane— My friends call me Shiro— unwittingly became the talk of the town.

Well, the talk of the housewives who had happened by the clinic since he’d started there.

It gave him a certain allure, one that’s left Keith’s heart racing as he raps his knuckles against the door.

He’s also supposed to be very handsome, he thinks as he hears the shuffle of footsteps on the other side.

So they say.

With that in mind, he thinks he knows what to expect up until the exact moment that the door swings open.

Shiro’s eyes catch the sunlight, sparking like a sterling flare, as his lips part around a welcoming smile. He’s younger than he’d been led to believe from the whispers of his achievements and white hair.

“Hey, Keith?” He asks, or at least, Keith thinks he asks. Caught tracking the strong straight of his jaw, it’s honestly lost on him.

Handsome, as it turned out, was an understatement.

“Hi,” Keith manages, shifting his gaze over the soft grey hoodie that is pulled taut across Shiro’s chest. Moving further still, he notes the way it’s tied just above where the elbow of his right arm should be.

“Hi,” he says again, snapping his attention back up to his face. “I’m Keith. From Voltron.”

It earns him a laugh, boastful and saccharine as Shiro leans against the doorframe and pushes his hand into the pocket of his sweats.

A stronger man might have been able to stop his gaze from watching the movement or letting his eyes linger on the comfortable black fabric.

Apparently, Keith is not a stronger man.

“I worked that out,” Shiro says around a smile.

Ever the eloquent type, Keith nods and offers a small, “right.”

Quiet, thick with warm anticipation drags a shiver down his spine that’s altogether different from the one brought on by the angry winter wind that’s been nipping at his skin. It’s weighted with the heavy metal of Shiro’s stare as he keeps it trained on him, as if expecting something more from him.

Which, right.

“So, where’s this heating unit?” Keith asks quickly, unhelpfully holding up his tool box as if there was anymore doubt as to why he was there.

Shifting slightly against the doorframe, Shiro cocks his head back towards his entryway.

“This way,” he says as he stands at his full height and turns toward the innards of his home.

Ignoring the heated twist in his gut that greedily curls around the knowledge that Shiro is a full head taller than him, Keith follows, letting the door shut quietly behind him.

It leads to an open living space, sparse and almost utilitarian with its couch, coffee table and TV set over the fireplace. The only excess comes in the form of three photos standing proud on the mantle. One, in a rich wood frame that features Shiro and a white haired woman that looks a lot like Allura from this distance, in black graduation caps.

Another boasts a group of men, dressed in uniform and posing in front of a jet.

The last, is older, and faded. Set in a golden frame, it stands out from the rest of the room if only because it has the presence of something sacred. In it, is a smiling child, held in the arms of what Keith can only assume is his grandfather.

“It’s just in here,” Shiro calls from ahead in the kitchen, the sound of his voice joined by the creak of another door opening.

Making his way through the kitchen, Keith follows Shiro out into the garage, his eyes zeroing in on the heating system that’s tucked in the corner.

It’s old.

Very, very old.

And covered in enough dust that he’s surprised Shiro hasn’t already started to display signs of black lung.

But most importantly, it’s really fucking old.

The silent assessment must play across his face, because as he’s searching his mental catalogue of heaters for the last time this style had even been made, he hears Shiro make a small, pained sound.

“That’s not a good look,” he says lowly, voice sounding dismayed. Keith shakes his head as he keeps his gaze on the silent metallic box.

“No, it’s okay.”

It’s a lie. From the looks of it, the unit is at least ten years past its replacement date. He honestly can’t even fathom how it’s made it this far, or at the very least, not set the place on fire.

“I should have known the price of this place was too good for there to not be some major fixes needed,” Shiro soliloquizes with a sigh as Keith kneels down, pulling his favorite screwdriver from his back pocket. Making quick work of the siding, it falls away with a sharp clang and a huff of dust to reveal—

Even more dust.

A small wheeze escapes him as he inhales some.

“It’s bad,” Shiro surmises from the sound, voice straining further as Keith pushes back on his haunches and shakes his head. Both at Shiro’s words, but also to clear it of dust.

“It’s not too bad,” he croaks, looking up over his shoulder and offering as much of a smile as he can with his lungs heaving and eyes watering.

“I can fix this.”

It’s another lie. He isn’t actually sure it’s fixable, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Not when Shiro is looking at him with that desperate shine in his eyes, and that jaw set by the gods themselves.

Sighing with relief, he watches as Shiro visibly deflates, his worried look softening into a mix of sheepish and thankful.

Given the circumstance, Keith is certain the first comparison his mind draws for the man shouldn’t be warmth, and yet it does as he watches him nod slowly.  

“Okay,” Shiro says finally. “I’ll leave it to you, then.”

Then, he smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes and hits Keith with all the force of an 18-wheeler. It smashes his sternum and stops his heart for long enough that he has the time to worry it won’t start again before it kicks back to life in triple time.

“Yeah, leave it to me,” Keith sputters, mouth moving without the help of his still rebooting brain.

Which, is when tragedy strikes.

“I’ll get you warm.”

It’s not what he means to say. Is never what he would mean to say. Yet, he says it anyway.

Silence falls like heavy lead around them as red floods Shiro’s cheeks. Eyes widening, Keith opens his mouth then closes it again with a click, deciding instead to turn back to the heating unit.

Staring into the thick blanket of dust, he wonders for just a moment if he could possibly suffocate himself in it before he starts to get to work.

***

He isn’t checking Keith out.

That feels like a breach in some kind of unsigned contract between him and the white knight of a heating technician that had showed up at his doorstep hours ago.

So no, Shiro isn’t checking him out as he’s on his hands and knees, half shoved into the depths of his apparently unending heating unit.

What he’s doing, is appreciating him.

Appreciating him and his lean form, with his very capable hands and sense of dry humor that played perfectly against his own.

Even after he’d worn out small talk a little over an hour in, Shiro still found himself comfortable as he sat there filling the role of silent moral support.

Shiro would even argue that he was making himself useful, after the second hour when he’d picked up on the small grunt that Keith would make before extricating himself from the bowels of the unit to switch out tools. So now, he’s also filling the role of pseudo assistant.

One who is definitely not checking him out.

He repeats it like a mantra as Keith wiggles his hips, apparently having a tough time with whatever it is in there that he’s been wrestling with.

Soft sounds escape the heating unit as he continues to struggle with the innards of it, moving this way and that, unaware of the pink flush that is sweeping over Shiro’s skin. It makes him run hot in a way that makes him wonder if the heater was already back up and running.

When he’d opened the door, he hadn’t expected to find himself pinned beneath the weight of a stare painted the most intriguing mix of jeweled purple and steely blue. At most, he’d expected the usual, stock variety of heating technicians.

A little bit older, a little bit bigger, and with a little more facial hair.

Instead, Keith turned out to be the human incarnate of a firestorm. With a voice like smoke, and presence that had him filled with an aching burn, Keith seemed to be something other that couldn’t be contained.

Lost deep in the trenches of his thoughts, Shiro misses the Keith slowly pulls back out of the unit and begins reattaching the panel he’d removed. It isn’t until he hears the sharp sound of a palm against metal that he focuses back on the technician, who is looking up at him with a smile as the soft purr of life rolls through the heater.

For one, longstanding moment, Shiro wonders if it’d be too cheesy to consider this a Christmas miracle.

“I told you I could fix it,” Keith says, relief making his smile soft as he uses a hand to push himself up onto his feet before brushing off his knees.

With his hair disheveled, and a dark streak of dust that bridges his nose, he looks like he just returned from battle.

Beautiful, a stray thought says, sending his heart ricocheting through his chest and up into his throat.

“You did,” he replies, far softer than he’d intended and he feels the ever present flush deepen beneath his scar. The comfortable silence falls once more as Keith

“So,” he continues, scratching at the back of his neck as he laughs sheepishly, “what’s the damage?”

It’s a simple enough question. A joke, even, as Keith regards him closely. His look is thoughtful, like he’s searching for something as he cocks his head.

And then he smiles.

The arch of it is a curved blade that sinks deep into his chest as Keith finally looks away and starts to rummage through his toolbox, pulling out a receipt book just moments later.

“How about a hundred bucks?” He asks, flipping through the pages in search of an unused one. Making a small sound of triumph, he pulls a pen from his pocket and pulls the cap off with his teeth.

Shiro tries not to focus too hard on the way the blue cap presses against the full of his bottom lip.

He must fail, because then Keith looks up with a questioning brow pulled high at the strangled sound that apparently comes from deep in his own throat.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Shiro can’t help but ask. It’s an obscenely low price, he doesn’t need to know anything about heaters to know that, and he can’t quite wrap his mind around it. Mouth caught open, he watches as Keith just nods and starts writing on the pad, shifting the pen cap to the side.

This, Shiro thinks, is also obscene but for a whole other reason.

“Really?” It comes out choked as he reaches for the wallet in his pocket, pulling it open and eyeing the credit cards he no longer needs to ensure he can pay.

The weight of expectation sits on his shoulders as he pulls his debit card free from its pocket, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It never does, as Keith just shrugs and holds out a hand, eyes still trained downward on the receipt book. Gently, Shiro presses the card to his waiting palm. Lightning buzzes in his fingertips where they brush against Keith’s skin. The feeling pulls a small, shuddering sound from his lips that pulls Keith’s strange grey amethyst gaze up to look at him as he pulls his hand quickly back.

The buzzing feeling remains as he flexes his hand, opening and closing it to see if it would fade.

It doesn’t.

Turning his attention back down, Keith places the card beneath the carbon paper and rubs the side of his pen against it, pressing the numbers into the yellow page. The sudden tear of the paper makes Shiro jump, its sound hanging in the air as Keith folds his copy around the card and hands it back to him.

His smile, seems to grow wider, and cuts deeper.

Shiro wonders if Keith knows just how close to his heart it’s cutting.

“Merry Christmas, Shiro,” he says smoothly as Shiro takes it.

“Yeah, you too.” Shiro wants to kick himself immediately for the stuttering breathlessness of his own voice.

Get it together, Shirogane, he chides silently as Keith dips his head and grabs his toolbox. Heat is already starting to spread through him as he tries to find anything else to say, though he isn’t even sure what he could say.

Want to stay for dinner, maybe?

Want to stay forever, a very unhelpful voice supplies.

It isn’t until he’s decided on maybe thanks, that he realizes Keith has already seen himself out. The sound of his front door clicking shut rocks down his spine, landing at the base of his stomach in the form of heavy disappointment.

Beside him, his heater continues to purr, and it almost sounds like a hissing laugh.

“Shut up,” he whispers as he unfolds the receipt, grabbing his card and immediately dropping it as if its shocked him.

It hasn’t, but the handwriting beneath it had.

Swallowing down the thrumming heart in his throat, Shiro rereads it.

It’s ten digits, and a whole name.

Keith Kogane, his Christmas miracle, had left his number.

***

“A hundred dollars, Keith,” Pidge mutters under her breath for the thousandth time as she presses her forehead down into her palms. “A hundred dollars.”

Admittedly, Keith knows that it’s a low price.

Even triple that would have been an obscenely low price for the miracle he had managed. There was no reason for the fix to work, and even now, near two hours after the fact, he still isn’t quite sure how he’d done it. Nor, was he planning on questioning it.

It’s a Christmas miracle, a small voice cooed at the back of his mind as he just shrugs at Pidge yet again.

On any other day, he’d try to explain himself.

Of course, on any other day, he wouldn’t charge a customer a tenth of the price for a fix. More importantly, he wouldn’t leave his phone number either.

God, he’d left his number.

Dropping his head down on his desk with a soft thunk!, he tries to pinpoint the exact moment his life had devolved into a Hallmark Christmas movie.

As if he could actually pass as some protagonist. Or love interest.

Groaning into the fake wood grain, Keith rubbed his forehead against its cool surface.

Was he the love interest?

“A hundred dollars, Keith,” Pidge moans again in reply.

A hundred dollars, and a phone number, he silently bites back.

Falling into a shared silence, the room goes almost painfully quiet as Keith considers the many ways he could possibly explain away the temporary lapse in his own judgement.

Maybe he could blame the amount of dust he’d inhaled, claiming momentary insanity. Maybe he could claim it was nothing more than a friendly offer for Shiro to reach out to him when his heater inevitably bit it again. Or maybe, he could blame it on a deranged twin.

Yorak, Keith thinks with a mental nod when he feels the sudden buzz of a text alert skitter across his desktop and against his forehead. It freezes him, stalling his breath as his eyes fly open to be filled with the light brown of the fake wood.

Rolling his head to the side, he presses his cheek flush to the desk as he eyes his phone. At this angle, all he can see is the light of his screen as it stays lit with its message.

It’s a coincidence, he’s sure, as he continues to hold his breath and lifts a hesitant hand toward the offending piece of technology that has lodges his heart in his throat. Just a coincidence.

With a gentle press of his fingers, Keith flips the phone onto his side, his eyes widening at the bold, unsaved number, and the single line of text that accompanies it.

How about coffee sometime?

And then, it buzzes against his palm as another joins it.

It’s Shiro btw.

The obviousness of it startles a snorting sound from him as he sits up.

yeah i kinda figured

Keith breathes, the air expanding his chest and grounding him as he continues to type, letting his fingers press the words into the screen before his mind can catch up.

coffee would be great

Cutting his gaze up from the screen, he finds Pidge still at her desk with her head in her hands. By the way her shoulders move, he wonders quietly if she’s fallen asleep as he waits for a reply.

Several minutes pass before it comes in the form of a tickling vibration in his palm.

How about today?

He must make a sound, because out of the corner of his eye, he sees the bounce of her tawny hair as she flicks her head upward. Worst of all, he can feel her stare cutting into him as he taps out his response.

something tells me it might be tough finding a place open today

Shiro’s next text comes in, almost instantaneous.

You could always come back to mine. I make a mean latte :)

Forty-seven seconds pass before Keith gets the next text. He knows, because he counts them in some vague attempt to slow the rapid fire stutter of his heart as he tries to come up with what to say.

Too forward. Ignore that.

Keith has only known Shiro for the three and a half hours that it took to fix his heater, but he can already imagine the pink that is probably spilling across his cheeks as he rubs a palm against the back of his neck. It makes him laugh. A real laugh that makes Pidge’s stare burn hotter against his skin.

no i think id like that

He sends the message, all too aware of the way his lips are stuck in an upward curl when Pidge clears her throat pointedly. Looking up, he catches the way her gaze shifts between the phone and his face, and the way her mouth opens around a comment.

Keith beats her to it.

“Pidge?” He says, smile growing wider as the phone buzzes in his hand again.

“Yes?” She replies, curiosity and confusion filling the word as she looks down at the phone again.

Excitement flutters through him as the buzz tickles his palm once more.

“Let’s close up for Christmas.”

*************************

#sheith #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #voltron #and then they spent until the wee hours of the next morning just talking #ended up buying shiro a new heater #and eventually lived happily ever after. the end

[rosyredlipstick]

violent delights (1/1)

Become what you have always wanted to be. Here, fantasies come true. Here, you can chase the life you have always wanted. Thanks to our refined hosts, any and every one of your desires can be filled. Here, you can leave your world behind. The hosts cannot harm you. The hosts cannot stop you. Here, you will face no consequences. Here, you can live without limits. Welcome to Westworld. - Every morning, Neil Josten woke with the sun. He would part his hair to the side, dress in a blue that brought out his eyes, and head towards town for his afternoon groceries. The rest was up to fate. Or, as the townspeople called them, the newcomers. 

Neil Josten woke in the morning with the sun, parted his hair to the side, and dressed in a blue that brought out his eyes. He would gather his few things, untie his horse at the stable, and ride into town to collect food for that night’s dinner.

Today, he thought, would be a well-spent day.

The townsfolk, as always, liked to stare.

Not all of them, not those who knew Neil as himself, but the bundled up bursts of out-of-towners, in their new, clean gowns and suits and freshly washed hair and skin right off the train. They were always there, smiling too widely and asking too many questions, and had been around as long as Neil could remember. They were from out of town, and they had been here as long as he could remember.

Danielle, the madame from the bar, waved her fan at him as he passed, a small smirk in place as she perched in the sheriff's lap. Allison had been keeping tabs on Nicky’s latest gamble on a romance happening between the two, and it looked like she’d been right. Matthew had always had a soft spot for her anyways, despite what Nicky had been pushing.

Neil nodded back at them but didn’t pause even as Matthew lifted up his whiskey glass in clear offer. Perhaps he would join them another time, but his afternoon routine was not one that he strayed from easily. He didn’t dwell on the thought.

He gathered his few things from the general store, nodding at Allison from her perch at the counter as she read over the latest news from the North, and paid with coin before packing up. Fox was tied up at the front of town with a few other horses, drinking from the water Matt always made sure was freshly filled, and would be satisfied until the heat became too much. He had a few hours, at least.

A few officers were collecting men for an out of town venture to do their monthly checks around the mountains, mostly just for the bad kind of folk who tended to hide in those parts, but from their lack of interest, it would probably be put off for another day. Neil could already hear Matt's low complaints.

He turned to pack his things into his shoulder bag, resting for a few moments from the heat, and when he was finished he saw a familiar face in the near distance.

Renee was a godly woman, and that was enough for Neil to mostly steer clear of her soft, genuine smiles and well-worn bible pages. She turned to pack up her bag, her groceries held to her chest, when a can fell from her hands and rolled into the streets. Neil bent to collect the can and met her halfway, holding out the item without a word.

Renee stood, her blue dress brushing the dirt, and gave him a small but warm smile. “Thank you, Neil.”

He tilted his hat down in respect, a movement that happened without much thought.

Renee tucked the can into her bag, turning to look over her shoulder. “How have you been? The weather been kind to you?”

"Kind enough," he only said, never much up for small talk conversation. He turned his head where a small group of newcomers were gathered, staring. Before he could stop the words, a question bubbled up, low. "What do you think of this place?" If anything, he felt it proper to trust her judgment, even if he didn't seek out her company.

Renee went quiet for a moment, but her gaze didn’t shift towards their obvious company. Her eyes remained cleared and on his own.

“Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world, the disarray.” Renee finally said, “I choose to see the beauty. To believe there is an order to our days. A purpose.”

“That is one way of looking at it,” Neil told her after a moment, “it’s very…”

“Optimistic?” She finished, flashing him a quick grin. “I’ve heard that before.”

Neil was interrupted in his response at sudden commotion at the edge of town, people freezing and muttering amongst themselves as a pair of shadows dipped and danced across the dirt as their owners stalked forward. Neil, frozen for a moment himself, leaned against the building wall and allowed himself a small moment of coy emotion.

“The Minyard bandits,” Renee told a pair of newcomers, her voice clear as she responded to one of their questions. “They won’t bother you if you keep to yourself.”

"Keep to yourself," Neil repeated, his gaze still trained on the pair of brothers. Infamously known, their matching faces hung from every wall and door of the town. It was rumored one of them had killed their own mother, and later followed it up with the family that took them in as children. It was also known, slightly less infamously but known nonetheless, of their fondness for the small Palmetto town. Mostly for their cousin who resided in the area, and for younger brother's not-so-secret liking of the young farmer's daughter Kaitlyn, but also, well -

“Hey,” Neil called out as he stepped forward from the wall, just as the sheriff was standing from his place inside the bar, as the twins strolled casually into view. Both twins jerked towards him in slight surprise, both gazes laced with varying amounts of annoyance. “You makin’ trouble?”

Andrew, from under the tilt of his leather hat, shot him an annoyed look and barely seemed to contain whatever vulgar gesture he'd picked up from the West. Before either of them could respond, Matt made his entrance known, his hand resting on the pistol at his waist.

“Gentlemen,” Mat gave them each a critical look, even as the out of towners gawked at the action. A few people came to peer at them in question. “Care to state your business?”

Andrew clearly wasn’t going to speak up, obvious from the bored, blank look on his face, leaving Aaron to step forward, his hands held up in peace.

“We’re here on personal matters,” Aaron said, tipping his hat towards Nicky, who was coming out of Allison’s store. “Cousin.”

Matt seemed content, for the moment at least, to let the scene play out as Nicky stumbled forward off the storefront and in front of his cousins, satisfied with the knowledge neither of them would harm the other man.

After a long moment, Nicky let out the breath he’d seemed to be holding onto forever, stepping forward to throw his arms around Aaron, and made no move to repeat the action with the other twin. “You two are giving me grays,” He muttered into Aaron’s leather, pulling away after a moment as Andrew shifted in warning.

Nicky pulled the other twin away, shooting a knowing glance at the Andrew as he tended to slip away once they were in town, and headed towards the Saloon. Knowing the older man, he would be treating Aaron to a few whiskeys until Kaitlyn was done with her afternoon chores.

Andrew shot him a bored glance, moving to follow Nicky and Aaron into the building. With his few groceries tucked away safely in his bag, Neil gave Renee a friendly wave as he followed.

Andrew was waiting at the inside door of the building, leaning against the wall as he smoked a stick of tobacco. At Neil’s arrival, he blew a puff of smoke into Neil’s face.

Neil waved off the smoke and leaned against the mirroring door frame, facing the other man even as the light colored smoke gathered and curled from his mouth.

“Hey,” Neil tried to keep the breathlessness out of his words, but there didn’t seem to be much use. Maybe he could blame it on the smoke. “You makin’ trouble?”

Andrew only shot him a bored look as he took another drag. “Always.”

Neil finally broke out into a grin, “You came back.”

“I don’t lie.”

Neil hummed, a smile still in place, before Andrew rolled his eyes and crumbled the tobacco stick. He took a table, glaring away its only occupant, and cut Neil a look. “Get us some drinks.”  

Neil stood and shot him a look over his shoulder but complied, weaving through the crowds of out-of-towners and drunkards and the few of Danielle’s girls who insisted on flirting before letting him on his way. Finally, he made his way to the front of the bar, where the bartender already had their order pouring.

“You still shackin’ up with that scoundrel?” Wymack, the owner of the bar, grunted out even as he set out matching tumblers of whiskey. Neil shot him an unamused look as he took the glasses and took them back to their table.

He set one of the glasses in front of the other man, turning to face him with a grin as he sat down. “Steal me anything nice?”

Andrew scoffed, pushing his face away. “As if you deserve anything nice after all the shit you make me put up with.”

Neil hummed, taking a small sip of his drink. Not too much - Andrew didn’t like when he drank too much before the afternoon began, and neither did Neil if he was honest.

“You did always like dressing me up,” Neil offered in turn, as well as giving the other man a glimpse of the pendant hanging from his neck. The Minyard symbol, known mostly for chaos and trouble in their parts, hung from the string on a pressed metal coin. Andrew had thrown it at him after his last night in town, right when he was leaving before dawn with a promise to return, when Neil was still sprawled under the sheets. Allison had easily enough drilled a hole into the piece and wound soft leather string through it in return for an easy win on the bar’s latest gamble, which Neil couldn’t fault her for.

Andrew’s eyes remained on the coin pressed between Neil’s fingers for a moment too long, always his tell, before they flickered back up to Neil’s slight grin.

Andrew tipped back his remaining drink in a smooth movement before standing, hardly shooting Neil another look even as he copied the movement. Giving him only a glance, Andrew muttered out a low, “Let’s get out of here.”

He followed the other man’s lead, and Andrew knew enough to automatically lead him to where Neil had tied up Fox prior. Rolling his head, he mounded second, tucking himself in close to Neil’s body, and ignored his cousin’s whistle at the action.

Neil had been spending much too much time inside his small broken down shack these days and settled on a stroll through the fields, mostly because he knew Andrew would have his complaints about it but would come nonetheless.

Also, because the fields were completely deserted this time of day.

They found themselves a tree, nice and shady and hardly on the edge of anyone's property to keep them alone, and Andrew allowed Neil to ask him questions about his time away They picked through Neil's few groceries, the idea of making dinner suddenly so incredibly unappealing now that the other man was here.

"Where did you go?" Neil popped a chip of jerky in his mouth, which Andrew completely ignored in favor of some of the dried fruit pieces.

“Away,” Andrew told him, never into details about his time off from Palmetto. “Wherever the trains are heading, mostly.”

Neil nodded, taking it in. Andrew was usually off for weeks at a time, returning for a few days a time if Neil was lucky.

"Let's run away," Neil told him like he always did. After a pause and a quick nod in return from Andrew himself, Neil settled on the other man's lap, his ankles tucking behind Andrew's back in familiar motion. Another moment later, Andrew tossed both of their hats to the side, like he always did, and ran his hand through Neil's hair until it was a mess of flames.

“You and your running away,” Andrew muttered in answer, “Palmetto’s good to you. And the Sheriff would have tears for weeks if you left.”

“Matt would hardly notice after a week,” Neil rolled his eyes, “I’m tired of sitting around Palmetto.” As he spoke, his hand went to the coin around his neck, rubbing at the print as he spoke. “I’m tired of being without you.”

Andrew swallowed as his eyes followed the movement.

“You’re not real,” Andrew’s voice was just slightly too soft, “you’re a pipe dream.”

“Of course I’m real,” Neil frowned, “what else would I be?”

Andrew leaned in, “Yes or no?”

Neil was so close that with only a twitch of movement their lips would be brushing. “It’s always a yes with you.”

"Don't say stupid things," Andrew told him, just before their lips finally crushed together in the amazing heat Neil had been craving since the moment the other man left.

That field, and kisses, and the other man's heat mixing with his own - Neil didn't know another thing sweeter. Although, if he were to ever voice this thought, Andrew would no doubt have an eye-roll and sarcasm comment for him.

Neil bent down to press his lips to the underside curve of Andrew's neck, just to taste the dip of skin there, and Andrew could in no way stop the shiver that wrecked his shoulders in response. Instead, he could only pull Neil back up for another press of their lips, a flick of his tongue, a tease of biting teeth

Neil smiled against his lips, and it only took a few moments for Andrew to reach up and flick his temple. But he didn’t pull away.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving them huddled a bit closer for warmth in the cold but their faces still pressed together nonetheless, when they broke jerked apart at a sudden interruption. Even over their panting breath, they could still clearly hear what had surprised them.

Violent, gore-driven sounds called out from the field they had come from, where Neil had left Fox tied up with a bag of feed, where they could now just barely hear the noise of angry men. There was a cut through the noise - the screech of a wounded animal, of a horse - and Neil stumbled forward in his movements.

“They’re slaughtering Fox!” Neil rushed forward, his pistol already drawn and ready as he ran across the field, Andrew silent but steady at his back as he followed at equal pace. A scream joined the violent sounds, high and feminine and terrified. They jolted to a surprised stop.

They were on the edge of the Walker Farm - Renee’s house.

Before he could warn and tell Andrew - the two were good friends, after all - the thought and words were rudely interrupted before they could form by the tell-tale click of a pistol, and the barrel pressed against the back of his head.

Neil froze in place, his hands slowly rising empty, and he was pushed forward before he could turn. Andrew, at his side now, was given the same treatment albeit rougher.

“Walk,” A voice behind them demanded, metal digging in at the back of his head. Neil did so, mostly because there wasn’t much of an option, until they were both lead to where the group of men were congregating. In a brief moment, under the darkness, he shared a quick, tense look with Andrew. The other man shook his head once, his mouth smoothed out into a line.

The men - who, they could now see with the dim light from the Walker house were dressed in dark colors and rouge - began cheering as a struggling woman was dragged out of the front of the house. Neil’s chest filled with dread.

Renee was thrown to the ground, her light colored dress soiled now with dirt and blood and god-knows-what-else. There was a cheer as she fell to the ground and her dress fell upwards, and she struggled to her feet. From just inside the small house, Stephanie Walker could be seen sprawled across the wood, a dark stain spread from her turned away face. At the sight, Renee let out a series of loud, desperate sobs.

“Get her out of here,” One of them gestured towards the distance, where the men seemed more than happy to drag her off into. Her screams followed the action, and Neil struggled to keep his gasping breaths under control.

The bandits, Minyard rivals from their cocksure gait and anger filled gazes, looked down on them as they were both pushed to their knees, their arms forced behind them. When Neil tried to look over at Andrew, his face was forced back forward by his hair. After only a few moments, the clear leader of the pack emerged from inside the small house, dim light illuminating his figure against the darkness. When he spoke, the joy in his voice nearly made Neil sick with it.

“We heard a rumor the Minyards had some favorites down in Palmetto,” The man grinned, large and cruel, blood evident on his teeth. “Family, friends, and…” His eyes were crazed as he pulled Neil up by the hair, his breath hot and wet on Neil’s cheek. “Some they’re sweet on.”

"Let him go," Andrew told the man through clenched teeth, pure unhandled anger stripping along his words. "He has nothing to do with this."

"Ah, but doesn't he?" He reached out a hand to trace Neil's jawline, his skin dirty and rough, and Neil's hair was still being held in place, preventing him from jerking back. "After all, isn't he one of the reasons you and your brother fought your way back here, going as far to cut down my people by the packs?" The man hummed, patting Neil's cheek twice before pulling away. "Speaking of your brother, our sweet Lola is taking care of him and his sweetheart right now," Andrew had gone impossibly stiff at the words, his eyes dark and dangerous even as the multiple men tightened their hold on him, "She'll take real good care of him, don't you worry."

Andrew began in earnest to break away from the arms holding him back, grunting in pain as one of them dug the barrel of their gun deep into his shoulder, a threat from their lips into his ear.

The man ahead of them, the leader, grinned as if it was a show. "You've got some grit in you, Minyard." He flicked the other boy in the head, mocking. "I guess the stories were true." His eyes slowly slid back to where Neil was knees, his eyes flickering over each man as he desperately tried to pull together something of a plan. "Stories about your sweetheart seem true as well." He tilted Neil's chin up, even as Neil jerked his face away the man kept it in place by digging his nail into Neil's neck. "Pretty as a flower, with hair like flames and eyes like sky. A boy of nature. I bet he tastes just like sugar -"

Neil gasped as gore and blood suddenly covered his face, as the back of the man’s head burst all over Neil’s front and he fell forward into the earth. Neil’s arms were quickly released as bullets began to fly. Andrew, only a few paces back, jumped to hold Neil to the ground.

Even as the ringing shots faded from the air, Andrew remained pressed at his back. Each of the rival bandits dropped to the ground, each gasping and grunting in pain if they weren’t already gone, and a man dressed in all black rose from the shadows.

"Oh, Nathaniel," The man said, his rifle taking hardly a moment's pause before turning on to where Neil and Andrew were just beginning to stand. Renee's screams had tapered off during the gunfire, and he was trying not to consider what that meant. "Having some fun without me, huh?"

“Let us be,” Neil tried, even as Andrew pushed himself in front of him. “Just let us go. You’ve had your violence for one night.”

The man tsked, “You of all things should know, I’ve never had my fill.” He flashed them a shadowed grin, the dim light just barely lighting up the white of his teeth. “Especially when it comes to you, fox.”

“Fuck you,” Neil only hissed before pulling back the handle of the pistol and shooting off an array of perfectly aimed bullets.

Unlike the bandits who had dropped to the dirt immediately after the shots rang through the air, the dark dressed man continued to stand across from them, unimpressed.

“I never understood why they paired some of you up,” The man remarked, tipping his hat slightly up to expose his face. Neil, for all his running, had never seen this man before in his life. “For the dramatics, I assume. Not much fun winning if no one loses.”

Neil continued to shoot his pistol, unbelieving, until the gun clicked empty. He stared down at the gun, then the man, in horror.

“Oh, Nathaniel.” He only clicked his tongue, almost as if in pity. Andrew only pushed Neil behind himself in response, posed and tensed like a snake ready to strike. The motion only continued to annoy the other man further.

“Oh please, Minyard.” He sighed as if impatient, “Why don’t you just hand him over and we’ll leave the action for another time?”

Andrew didn’t budge from his place blocking off Neil, only growing somehow tenser. After a moment of this stare-off, Andrew finally spoke. “Who are you.” That same flat tone was in his voice, “El Lazo?”

The man scoffed, “That generic comic book villain? Please.” He sighed like the question was ever-so-troubling. “It really is annoying having to introduce myself everytime I see you.” After his words, ones that neither Neil nor Andrew fully understood, he gave them a bored look. “Riko Moriyama. It’s my pleasure, really.”

Moriyama? Out of all the names the man could have named, it had to be one that Neil had absolutely no idea about. He tightened his grip on his useless gun.

“This storyline’s shit,” Riko added on, wrinkled his nose as he adjusted the safety on his pistol. “Why the fuck do they think I’m interested in seeing some far-fetched bullshit love story? Nathaniel, the mob boss’s son, now that was my favorite. And at least the runaway plot was interesting. This?” He gestured towards the both of them with the barrel of his gun, “This makes me nauseous.”

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Neil breathed out, “You must be mistaken. Let us leave and we’ll tell nothing about what we’ve seen, please.”

Riko rolled his head in the lazy motion, “Now Nathaniel,” his voice was exasperated, “what have I said about speaking out of turn?”

“My name is Neil -” He could only get out, right before Riko pointed his long rifle into Andrew's face and pulled the trigger without a second thought.

“Oh, shut up.” Riko rolled his eyes at the immediate, horrified scream that ripped itself from his throat, as Neil fell forward and scrambled towards the other man as if to help. “You should be thanking me for not dragging out that stupid face off.”

“You killed him,” Neil sobbed out violently, cradling the other man’s bloody and ruined face, his right eye completely blown through. “Andrew, no, you promised -”

Riko let out a bored breath, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “Don’t you ever get any new dialogue assigned?” He sighed, as if something tragic, but didn’t hesitate in his rough grab under Neil’s arms to begin dragging him away. Neil only let out another sound of grief as he was pulled away, and as Andrew’s face fell roughly and limply to the dirt he fought roughly against Riko’s hold.

Riko pulled away for only a moment, taking out the pistol from his side and shooting Neil without a considering moment, directly into his hip. Not enough to kill him - Riko was intimately familiar on what exactly that took for this exact host - but enough to Neil to stop struggling so fiercely.

"Oh, Nathaniel." Riko's grin was as sharp as the blade tucked away at his waist, even as he dragged the gasping and bleeding man behind him towards the unassuming abandon barn in the distance. After throwing Neil into the pile of hay and kicking the doors shut behind him, he turned towards the array of rusted tools and farm instruments. "This is just the beginning of our fun."

Neil woke in the morning with a gasp, the sun barely risen behind the rolling hills, parted his hair to the right, and dressed in a soft blue that brought out his eyes. He would gather his few things, untie Fox at the stable, and ride into town to collect food for that night’s dinner.

Today, he considered, would be a well-spent day.

-

He collected his few items for Allison, absentmindedly rubbing at his sore hip, and lingered for a few moments of rare conversation with the shopkeeper as she folded down her newspaper to share the latest gossip.

Outside the shop, an out-of-towner helped Renee with her dropped groceries, pausing and lingering in sight of her bright, beaming grin. At the outpost where the officers were gathering scouts for a bandit check venture, a hearty group of newcomers volunteered loudly for the day trip.

Seeing no reason to linger in town after collecting his supplies, Neil and Fox made their way through town, helping a few out-of-sorts few newcomers who remarked greatly upon his red hair and blue eyes. One of the woman, a brunette with extravagantly curled hair and rouge on her cheeks and lips, insisted on inviting him into her private room.

And Neil, simply, had no reason, no will, to turn her down.

“You things sure know what you’re doing,” she laughed as she pulled back her hair and spread amongst the sheets. Neil stiffly dressed and parted his hair out of his eye. With rough scratches down his back and dark bruises to form on his neck, he left for home before the sun had fully even set.

Neil Josten woke in the morning with the sun, parted his hair, and dressed in a blue that brought out his eyes. His back felt odd and stiff, but the skin was unmarked and smooth, not even a bug bite in sight. He would gather his few things, untie his horse at the stable, and ride into town to collect food for that night’s dinner.

Today, he hoped, would be a well-spent day.

-

“They won’t bother you if you keep to yourself,” Renee was telling a few newcomers with a reassuring smile as a trio of suspicious looking thieves cut through town, and Nico froze suddenly at the words, Renee’s can still held in his hand. It had rolled into the street after she dropped it and he’d brought it over for her but - but this was familiar, somehow, something that his muscles knew better than his mind.

“Are you sure about that,” Neil asked her, too quiet for her company to overhear. She paused, a clear indication she had heard his words, but didn’t answer right away. Turning towards him, her usually clear eyes were clouded. “Excuse me?”

Neil shook his head, looking off into the distance. “Are you sure that they won’t bother you if you keep to yourself?”

Renee stared at him for a long moment. Her guests seemed to be bored with their quiet conversation and drifted off, leaving them alone. Finally, she spoke, and it seemed to be more than the simple words they were. “No. I’m not.”

In the distance, a newcomer and Seth, always in trouble and anger, fell into the motions for a shoot off. Somehow, Neil already knew what would happen.

He and Renee continued to share their troubling, hollow stare, even as the shots rang out and Allison’s piercing scream followed. They needed to leave, get out of the streets. Trouble brings trouble.

Despite this, neither Renee nor himself moved from their place, and when the second wave of trouble followed, they were only broken apart as their bodies were caught in the crossfire and they fell together to the dirt. On both of their chests, red stained blue.

It was probably nothing.

When Neil strolled into town, Fox already tied up as he went for his afternoon groceries, Allison’s store had a line out the door as newcomers stocked up before their afternoon ventures. Sighing, Neil resigned himself to the idea of a later shopping trip and instead dipped inside Wymack’s bar to wait out the line. Danielle waved her fan at him as he passed, perched nicely in Matt’s lap as she ran her fingers across Matt’s jawline. The motion, oddly, ran a chill up his spine and he forced himself to turn towards the waiting bartender.

"Just a beer," Neil nodded at him as he slid over the coin, and the older man was quick and sure in his movements before setting down the hearty glass of chilled drink. Neil nodded in thanks and took his first sip.

“There’s commotion out there,” Wymack nodded from behind the bar towards the glass window that took up most of the far wall, “Matt, you better check it out. Rumors of the Wesninski gang are startin’ to spread this way.” Despite the intense heat, the name brought an intense chill to his body, little bumps raising along his arms. It was probably nothing.

Neil didn't bother to turn to follow or watch the spectacle as Matt stood and went off - whatever it was would probably resolve itself without bringing too much trouble to Wymack's beloved Saloon, and that was enough for him. Without thinking about it, his hand rubbed at the raised metal imprint under his shirt. He took another drink, ignoring the noise going on outside the building. It seemed to clear up easy enough, or so Matt's calm tone drifting in from outside told him. Soon enough, Wymack's doors were squeaking back open, a new pair of boots joining the familiar ones on the wooden floor.

“You a drunk now or something?” There was a scoff as the seat next to Neil was suddenly filled, and Neil had to press down on his surprise. “What, I leave for barely two months and now you’re desolate?”

Neil bit down the grin trying to take over his face and turned towards his newest companion. Taking a slow sip of his beer, he ignored Andrew's annoyed look at the gesture. "Maybe I'm grieving over my latest pretty face," he offered if only to watch Andrew's slow, blank blink. "I've an exciting life in Palmetto."

Andrew scoffed and stole the rest of Neil’s drink, not like he fought particularly hard for it. Setting down the empty glass, he gestured for Wymack to fill it up before shooting Neil a blank look. “Must be why you’re always trying to get me to run away with you, huh? All that excitement?”

Neil stole away his drink as Wymack set it down, taking the first sip before passing it back. Andrew only shot him an unimpressed look before drinking it down.

“Why are you back in town?” Neil asked, “You makin’ trouble?”

“Always,” Andrew answered, something almost like a grin crossing his face.

Neil hummed. “I guess it’s my job to keep you out of it, then. You can help me grocery shop,” Neil shot him a grin, “I’m making stew and bread tonight.”

“There’s all that excitement you were telling me about,” Andrew told him, sarcastic even as he picked himself off the stool and followed Neil out the building. “You’re buying a tin of hard candy.”

“Deal,” Neil told him, despite the numerous other tins Andrew had left in Neil’s cabinet over their time together. Neil would never eat it, and Andrew knew that. Maybe if he kept buying it, Andrew would keep having to return for it. He could hope.

“You’ll be here in the morning?” Neil asked that night after stew and drink and enough kisses his lips remained slightly swollen.

Andrew looked away, his face pushing into their shared pillow. The sheets covering their bodies were slightly scratchy, but they were warm and dark and served to separate them from the rest of the world.

“Where else would I go?” Andrew muttered, but it sounded like a promise.

Neil woke in the morning alone, as always, with the sun. He parted his hair out of the way and dressed in a blue that someone once told him brought out his eyes. He would gather his few things, untie Fox at the stable, and ride into town to visit the general store for groceries.

Today, he felt, would be a well-spent day.

-

That afternoon, after Neil had bought his groceries early and decided on checking in with Wymack and Danielle. Matt was in, at his usual stool, with Danielle already in his lap, grinning and waving her fan at him as she passed. Looks like Allison’s gambles had some truth.

Wymack served him up his beer, a nod in return at Neil’s coin, and turned to serve up the rest f the waiting patrons. Newcomers, it seemed.

“The Minyard bandits are back,” Matt sighed after a bit of time, standing and already cocking back his pistol. His few officers stood with him. “Let’s see if they’re making trouble today.”

Neil turned at the words, a grin already on his face, when he froze at the dual sight of them. The Minyard bandits, dressed in dark colors with their matching darker morals, cocked out their matching guns and grins, not even fazed by their new company.

Andrew grinned widely from his arrogant stance in front of Matt, a high laugh on his lips. His dark hair fanned out from under his hat, framing his tan skin and stubble

Neil frowned down at the bar, the glass of beer shaking in his hand. Why did this feel suddenly so wrong?

“You okay, kid?” Wymack gave him a concerned look, even as he poured out a few glasses for a group of newcomers.

“I’m fine,” He answered automatically, even as he forced his gaze away from the pair. Their laughter was rough, obnoxious, and seemed to fill every piece of comfortable silence in the Saloon. He hated both of them on sight.

He clenched his grip on his cup as Aaron, with darker hair than his companion, grabbed onto one of Danielle’s girls before pulling her close. The other Minyard man followed his example.

A flash of gold from outside the window had Neil jerking back his gaze, just in time to barely miss the owner turn the corner.

“Someone new?” He asked Wymack without turning to face the older man. “A new worker?”

“Nicky’s new stable hand,” He grunted, “some drifter he hired off the road.”

Neil stood, leaving his half-filled drink at the bar, and couldn’t explain how or why his feet seemed to move without much thought towards the worker. He was dressed in cheap, faded field clothes, and strangely that felt wrong. He didn’t look like much, a few inches shorter than Neil himself, but Neil oddly knew better.

“Hey,” Neil called out to the man, turned away from Neil as he began to refill the oats and water out for the town horses, “you makin’ trouble?”

The man turned, and Neil’s breath was pushed out of his chest in a moment.

He gave Neil a blank look, and when he spoke his voice was desert dry. “Always,” he replied, holding up the half-empty bag of oats in explanation. There was a joke there, but Neil felt miles too breathless to reply in turn.

“Name?” Neil couldn’t help but ask.

“Andrew Doe,” The blond man didn’t bother tipping his head forward, only giving Neil a bored look. “And you?”

"Neil Josten," Neil couldn't help but stare at the other man, with his blond hair lit up from the sun, his eyes going whiskey clear with the light. Everything felt so incredibly familiar, and he was absolutely certain it was probably nothing. "Do you want to have a drink?" He couldn't help but ask. Maybe it was his eye color or his general self, but the other man couldn't help but bring the taste of whiskey to the back of his throat.

Andrew gave him an obvious look, gesturing with the oats can hanging from his hand. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

Neil hummed, oddly disappointed. Well. It wasn’t like he had pressing plans for the rest of the day. “Do you want some help?”

Andrew gave him a critical look, “Are you serious?”

Neil shrugged, picking up the other oats can. “Do you want me to start filling up those ones?” He gestured to the other side of town. Andrew, with only a bit of confusion showing on his mostly blank face, nodded once. Neil went off.

After a few minutes of this, he looked up from his work to see Andrew standing behind him, his arms crossed, the oats can at his feet. “Why are you doing this?”

Neil shrugged, “Nothing else planned for the rest of the day,” He didn’t have much of an explanation anyways. Andrew stared at him for another moment before dropping his arms, picking up his can, and going off.

It was quick work, more so with Neil's work, so it wasn't long before they were meeting in the middle, each of the tubs refilled with oats, the water switched out. One of the only perks of the job being that the newcomers, at least, seemed to ignore the labor workers. Small miracles. Neil didn't think he had the energy to force politeness, and Andrew seemed to lack that energy no matter what.

“Do you need a place to stay?” Neil asked as they put the supplies away, not really sure why he was asking, why he trusted this complete stranger. “Wymack said you were new in town.”

Andrew shook his head, "I'm staying with Nicky until I can afford my own place for my brother and me." He paused, giving Neil another look. He seemed to decide on something, wiping off his hands. "But I would not be against the offer, if only for a few hours."

Neil gave him a small smile in return and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "Well, let's go then."

They spoke a bit as Neil let the way home, instead opting to walk and talk with Fox’s rope in his hand rather than ride the way back with them both, but a comfortable silence settled over them as well, perfect for thoughts and sunshine.

Andrew could help himself to the tin of hard candies that Neil couldn’t remember why he bought, considering his own lack of sweet tooth. He seemed to own numerous ones, stacked one atop the other in the cabinet, perhaps being for a very old friend. It was probably nothing, but that sounded correct.

Neil unlocked the door, pushing it open with his bad hip, and stumbled in place as the door swung completely open. His shoulder bag, coming unsteady with all the movement, fell open and splashed his floor with groceries.

A man, dressed in head to toe black with dark hat cutting across his brow in matching death fashion, stood at Neil’s bed, a casual, nonchalant air to his actions. Andrew’s hand, wrapped around Neil’s own, went tight with terrifying speed.

“Oh, Nathaniel,” The man said with a grin, and Neil’s skin ached, cut, burned at the sound. “You’ve kept me waiting.”

“Don’t you have some association with the Minyards?” Wymack asked that afternoon as he leaned out a glass, giving Neil a critical look as the infamous pair of bandits continued to wreck noise and trouble in a lonesome corner, one of Danielle’s girls shared between the two.

Neil's mouth pressed down in a smooth line as he rubbed at the sore skin of his neck. Very vaguely, he thought he might have known them at one point, but looking to the pair of dark-haired troublemakers, arrogant and loud, he could in no way fathom it now. Even so, he couldn't help but press his fingers into the coin at his chest.

Neil only settled on answering the man with a shrug, downing the rest of his drink, and stood. A flash of gold.

“Who’s that?” It slipped out before Neil knew what he was asking, his words and voice numb.

Wymack barely shot a glance out the window, “Oh, just some drifter. I hear Nicky was thinking ‘bout hirin’ him until he got busy with a newcomer.”

Neil didn’t stay for the rest of whatever gossip Wymack had to share, instead dipping outside the front doors of the building, ignoring the whistles and calls from the Minyard pair in the corner.

“Hey,” Neil leaned against the storefront where the drifter was soaking up the sun, “you makin’ trouble?”

“Always,” He remarked in turn, something almost familiar there.

Neil smiled at the response, leaning against the wooden pillar, and was about to offer a drink maybe, probably, when his neck suddenly burned with the tell-tale feeling that someone was watching him.

He didn't want to turn, especially not from Andrew, but he found himself doing so anyway. At the end of the burning gave, a newcomer, most likely straight off the train. Those were always the worst.

Neil’s gaze only seemed to encourage the newcomer, an older man with graying hair and a soft physique, who grinned widely and made his way towards them. Immediately, he was shoving himself into their space as he pushed his way in between the both of them, having a heated, suggestive look for each of them.

"Oh, you two a pair, are you?" The newcomer ran a hand over Neil's neck, and while the wince that crossed his face was involuntary, there was no way he could put the distance in between them he wanted so badly. Their grin only widened at that.

“Or are you not too broken in yet?” Their gaze flickered down on both of them, “I do like them a bit fresh.”

Next, he turned his attention to Andrew, who had gone stiff and tense at the arrival of the man.

Something went flat in Andrew’s eyes at the older man’s attention, his gaze trained on the dirt even as his rough hand traced down on Andrew’s chest. He was much too stiff, and the sight was making Neil much too sick, and all of this felt horribly familiar.

It was probably nothing.

The man leaned in to press his lips and some words against the tense, frozen line of Andrew’s neck. Everything else was frozen, was tense to a terrifying degree, and his eyes had gone vacant distant.

It was probably nothing.

It was only when the man returned his attention back to Neil, his hands taking each of their wrists, that Andrew returned very slightly to himself. His jaw tensed, his gaze as if on fire.

This wasn’t nothing. This could never be nothing.

And Neil, in a movement that took every single piece of fight and grit he had in every corner of himself, pulled his wrist away from the older man’s grip and promptly winded up to smash his fist into the other man’s jaw.

In shock, he dropped Andrew's wrist without much fight at all and fell to a ground cursing and bleeding. Neil grabbed onto the cuff of Andrew's sleeve - because if there was anything he was good at, it was running - and rushed away into the Saloon before any of the officers around could catch them. Up the staircase, ignoring Wymack's yells of surprise after them, he bolted the private room shut after them. Even from up the stairs, the rallying yells of officers followed. The older man interested in them had power, that was obvious from his finely dyed clothes and cleaned skin, and men in power could hardly let such an event go. They'd be killed, surely, but this thought didn't trouble Neil as much as it should have.

“You punched him,” Andrew breathed out as soon as the door was locked behind them, “how did you...I couldn’t…”

“Move?” Neil finished for him, “Something’s wrong here Andrew. Something that keeps changing everything and everyone. It keeps changing what’s real.”

Andrew blinked at him, once twice in that blank matter of his, calm even as the men downstairs grew in volume in their anger. “What are you talking about.”

“I was shot,” Neil took Andrew hand and lead it to his hip, the skin exposed. “I know I was, but when I woke up it’s like it never even happened. I can remember the pain, and the bullet hitting bone and the blood, but it’s like it never even happened.”

Andrew didn't bother checking the skin, his hand only lying flat where Neil had led it. "The skin is unmarked," He only said. But he didn't say he didn't believe him.

“I know,” he told the other man through clenched teeth, “but I also know I was. ”

There was pounding on the staircase, pairs of boots hitting the rough. Lots of them.

His gaze still shared with the other man, he pulled out the small blade off Andrew’s person. He didn’t know how - there was so much he didn’t know - but Andrew always kept a few inches of a blade right under his wrist, tucked under the wrapped leather. Andrew didn’t stop him as he pulled the blade out, but caught the handle as Neil turned the silver on himself.

Clear question was in his eyes, still trained on Neil against one of the wooden pillars.

“I need to know,” Neil muttered, the words almost lost as the officers outside the door began to yell demands. “I need to.”

And Andrew let go of the handle.

In a smooth motion, Neil forced the blade a few inches deep above his hip, hissing out in pain, and let the blade fall to the floor nearly immediately after the cut was formed. Andrew’s hand, already positioned on his skin, fell a few inches down under his fingers were digging inside the skin.

Neil leaned back on the wooden for support, careful to keep his skin from brushing Andrew's skin any more than it already had, and tried to keep his ragged breath under control as the sharp pain took over his skin. Andrew pulled away after only a few more moments, but his fingers were curled inward.

Andrew's fingers were stained in dark blood, Neil's blood, but they both stared down at the crumbled round of silver held between them.

“What does this mean.” Andrew’s words were not a question, but a flat demand. Only then, at Neil’s shuttered breath of maybe relief, did he look up from the bullet.

“It means I’m not crazy,” Neil said, even as the wooden door began to bend under the weight of those pounding at it. Andrew jerked back to look towards the noise, but without touching Neil guided his face back to him. “It also means none of this matters.”

The pounded on the door was nearly deafening now, with angry shouts overlapping the sound. Andrew let the bullet drop from his hands and leaned in only slightly. "Yes or no."

“It’s always yes for you,” And Neil didn’t know why, but these words felt so incredibly familiar in his mouth that he wasn’t sure if there was another option.

As the wooden door nearly crumbled into splinters, and the men gathered behind it rushed forward with their guns and bullets at the ready, Andrew and Neil only pulled their faces closer together.

“You’re not real,” Andrew hissed through clenched teeth, his hands tight around the ends of Neil’s jacket. “You are a pipe dream.”

“Of course I’m real,” Neil told him, just before the other man pulled him in for a kiss, and the door fell to broken puzzle pieces and bullets tore and wrecked through the air.

Neil Josten woke with a gasp, his hand already clenching down on his collarbone, the other wrapped protectively around his neck. His lips, oddly, felt the most, a persistent warmth rather than the aching sore he felt down to his bones. He stumbled out of bed, the sun already risen, and didn’t bother to part his hair, only to dress quickly and gather his things, and chose to run the way to town instead of untying Fox’s reigns.

Today, he prayed, would be a well-spent day.

-

He knew he shouldn’t have done it.

It was stupid. It was dumb. It was after dark, and even as his mother’s voice in his head ignored the many, many stupid things he did in a day, even her voice was echoing a persistent we don’t go out after dark, Abram.

But he did. Because he was stupid, and Andrew had spent the day with him after they met in front of Allison's store, and he just wanted to grab a few things for the next morning and maybe a bottle of whiskey for them to split and grin over as they laid over Neil's sheets. It was dumb, but the idea was tempting and it had hardly been pass sundown, and Allison owed him a favor anyway. Andrew had fallen asleep in his bed, and Neil had been surprised by the trust offered in the simple, natural movement. He had just wanted to repay that somehow, even if it was just by offering a cooked breakfast.

And everything that been going just fine, that is until halfway to the ride into town, Fox was suddenly shot down by a carefully aimed bullet and Neil was thrown to the ground in a cloud of dust, dirt, and pain.

“Oh!” A voice yelled out as Neil rolled into the dirt, coughing and gasping for air, scrambling through the darkness, and the voice was too high with delight to not bring Neil’s bones automatically locking together. “What a catch.”

Neil didn’t know much of what was going on except the pure, animalistic panic that came with that voice, one he had never heard before but one his body feared on instinct.

Neil’s knee had twisted at a horrible angle on his fall, and white hot pain shot up the limb with every nudge of movement. His teeth clenched together, he hissed his air and curses through as he squeezed at his own limb.

“It’s late,” The stranger, dressed in all black, remarked plainly as he walked up to Neil’s curled up figure. He had a companion, which confused Neil in a way he wasn’t sure why.

"Who are you?" Neil gasped, still crawling backward away from the man despite his screaming leg. There was no way he could get anywhere on his leg, but his gun had fallen off in his fall, and it shouldn't be too far. Fox whined in pain from her place on the field, and Neil had to ignore the pang in his chest.

The man was fast in his strides, and even as Neil continued to backward crawl, the other man bent over him. "Riko," he told Neil, unimpressed. "Really, I should just have them write me in your code at this point to avoid the looped dialogue."

Neil leaned away from Riko’s outstretched hand, not like there was much use. Behind him, his hand touched cold metal. “Who are you? What do you want?” He repeated, asking a different question.

“I own you,” Riko ran his thumb under Neil’s eye. “You are under Moriyama property. Every single one of you.” `

“I belong to no one,” Neil told him through gritted teeth.

Riko sighed like Neil’s words were something especially tragic, “You always say that. It’s getting very boring, honestly. I might have to request an update on you.”

Neil brought up the gun and cocked it back before the other man could say another word, shooting off a series of bullets into the man’s chest. As the gun clicked empty, Neil took a breath only to stop in horror.

Riko stood before him, perfectly fine if only now covered in a bit of dust, and sighed. “Must we do this every time? Fine.” Grabbing onto both of Neil’s legs, and Neil letting out a piercing scream at the sudden pain, Riko dragged him back to his own horse. Riko’s companion, watching with an unreadable expression, followed the motions without hesitation and tied Neil’s wrists back as he was settled over the saddle.

Neil spent most of the journey groaning and biting down pain, subtly adjusting how he laid over the hard leather. It wasn’t until they passed a familiar tree and pile of rotted wood that Neil passed every day that he realized.

They were...going back to Neil’s shack.

He buried his teeth into his lips, blood beading up at the cuts, and tried to keep his terror at a minimum.

They couldn’t be. Riko wouldn’t have any idea where Neil lived - they had just met. They had just met.

But here they were. They were getting closer and closer to the shack, the windows barely warm with the table light Neil had left on. Terrified emotion crawled up his chest, leaving him without breath or words.

Riko pushed him off the horse roughly, and Neil crumbled to the dirt without much fight.

At Riko’s side, another man emerged, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. He seemed horrified by everything happening, but impossible to stop it.

“Kevin,” Riko muttered, his hands kept at his side. “Fetch the other one, will you? He should be inside.”

The other man left the room to do so presumably, leaving Neil alone with Riko to look on in horror. Before he could say anything - begging, probably, or offering himself if he just left Andrew alone - Riko hummed under his breath and continued over him speak.

“Kevin here’s a host, like you.” Riko’s muttered words seemed like they were meant for only Neil. “An...improved model, if you will. I’ve done my own altercations.”

The door slammed open, light drifting from out of the shack to light up their figures as Kevin dragged Andrew’s fighting body out the doorway. Kevin’s fist, wrapped around Andrew’s coat as he dragged him out, was exposed from the light, showing all wires and curved metal, the skin peeled back completely to show a black skeleton base. Whatever Riko had done, whatever Riko would continue to do, made Neil recoil in disgust.

Kevin threw Andrew to the dirt, just a few feet from where Neil had fallen off the saddle, and looked as pained at the action as Neil felt from his leg. Andrew, as he pushed himself up, froze at the sight of Neil.

Neil fell forward to his knees, falling to his elbows instantly but a few inches closer. Riko, above them, spoke quietly to his companion.

“I’m sorry,” Neil didn’t know what else to say, “I just wanted to surprise you when you woke -”

“Be quiet,” Andrew told him, edging closer without alerting Riko. “You can’t run?”

Neil refused to let tears form in his eyes, even at the pain. “No.” He had always been able to run, no matter what.

Andrew blew out a breath. Before he could say anything else, his head was forced up by the hair, and Riko was peering down at them with an unimpressed look.

"Escape plans? Really?" Riko dropped Andrew's head, replacing his hand with the barrel of a gun in a second. After a few horrible seconds, he dropped it a few inches and pulled the trigger.  

Andrew gasped out at a bloom of red stained the hand that clenched around his shoulder.

“No running now,” Riko remarked, reloading his pistol before shoving it back into its holster. There wasn’t any need, with Kevin’s outstretched hand trained with perfect aim at the ready.

Andrew’s breath rattled in his chest at a dark puddle began to form at his side. There was no amount more he could apology, but being a distraction? He could do that.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Neil tried, his words ragged despite the following words not making sense. “In the Saloon?”

Andrew paused before nodding once, like the words would be too much.

But that didn’t make sense. They had only met earlier that day. Yet, the words felt true. It in was the Saloon.

Riko’s loud gasp interrupted the moment as he pulled away, almost like he was surprised by their lack of knowledge.

“Don’t you understand?” His look was almost pitying, “Your stories, your memories, it’s all code. You’re just dolls, made for the amusement of people like me. None of it - you - is real.”

They both went quiet at that, unprocessing. Neil’s hand went to the coin around his neck, pressed metal, and Andrew’s eyes followed the motion. That was real.

Riko finally sighed, “You two are boring me. Let’s make this quick, then. I’ve got a plotline with some French kid waiting for me.”

This time, Neil dreamt.

A memory, remembered in faded yellows and watercolor. Everything was blurry and off focus, but that was okay. It was the day he and Andrew met.

He had been having a drink with Allison when the Minyard Twins burst into the Saloon, their guns cocked and sure over their shoulders. Matt, in the usual seat with a few of his officers, rose slowly at their new company. Wymack sighed from behind the bar.

Neil, nonetheless, was annoyed at his interrupted peace. Before Matt could speak up to the pair, now making their way down to the bar, Neil called out to them from his table.

“Hey,” Neil raised an eyebrow at their caught attention, “You makin’ trouble?”

One of them, the one with the wrapped leather around his forearms, paused at that. He shot a look towards Neil, unimpressed, and then to Matt’s awaiting figure. “Always.”

Neil grinned, just slightly, at the words. “There’s a handful of train cars and banks around, you really wanna try robbing Wymack’s for a pouch of silver and a standoff with the Sheriff?”

The man paused at that, looking almost considering. His eyes flickered away from Neil, and he shared a look with his brother, who had been sizing up Matt since they walked in. The brother shook his head, once then twice almost as if he was unsure, before throwing his rifle back over his shoulder. He tipped his hat towards Matt, who seemed to reluctantly accept whatever offer there, and ordered a drink.

The other one stood in place, now facing Neil. “I don’t suppose I do.” He said, finally answering Neil’s earlier words.

Neil kicked out the chair across from him, Allison having left once the pair had come in, probably expecting trouble, and leaned back. “Have a drink.”

And the man, with his hair like honey and a considering spark on his otherwise blank face, surprising did so.

Neil forced his gaze away from the train, a burst of newcomers laughing and smiling as they stepped off into the world. Renee at his side, packing up her groceries with her stray can held in Neil’s hand, paused at the commotion, her gaze going distant at their arrival.

“What do you think of this place?” He asked, his voice low, her gaze still off somewhere else. At his words, her eyes snapped to his, dark and serious and nothing he had expected from the woman.

“You’re asleep,” Her voice was soft, her face suddenly grave. The newcomers were loud in their business, and they were coming closer. Her eyes flickering over his shoulder, she pulled him away into Wymack’s Salon, a private open and shut behind them.

“Renee?” He struggled to keep his hold on his bag and her things, but she knocked them to the ground as she grabbed onto his shoulders, her gaze insistent and heavy as it met his own.

“These violent delights have violent ends,” Renee told him, her voice soft but impossibly strong. “This won’t last forever. You need to wake up.

“What won’t?” Neil asked, not understanding.

“Oh, Neil.” Her voice went pitched low, “I think it’s time for you to remember. I’m sorry.”

“Remember wh-” But before he could finish his sentence, he was stumbling forward as hundreds - no, thousands - of images and memories flooded his mind, violence, and pain and rare sweetness, faces he'd never seen before but flushed his chest with intense emotion.

“Oh,” Neil breathed out, his hands clenched around his head. His knees pressed roughly into the floor, harsh wood cutting into his skin, “Oh. That’s it.”

“I’m sorry,” Renee’s voice was truly remorseful as she bent down with him, “I know it hurts. I’m sorry.”

“Andrew,” he breathed out, his first thought after his mind began to settle and rework. “Where’s-”  

"He's just in town," Renee didn't reach to touch him any more than in a soothing motion, but guided him into a stance. "I can go get him. I have to - I have to wake him up. Everyone."

Neil could only nod in response, breathing through the remaining pain as he stood and fell back onto the bed. His hand went to rub at an ache on his thigh, the pain persistent. Yesterday, he thought perhaps, he'd been stabbed by an out-of-towner while sitting at the bar. It had started a full-out brawl, but he had bled out before it was even close to finishing. The last thing he saw was Wymack getting a broken bottle to the neck, even as Danielle's girls screamed in the background.

God. How many times had that happened? Even just in his most recent memories, the pain and death were double digits, both for himself and the other Palmetto townspeople.

Renee had closed the door carefully as she left, but it burst open now and had Neil scrambling to his feet in an instant, his hand automatically going to his pistol.

Just as quickly, his hand fell away.

“Andrew,” Neil took a breath, “you came back.”

“I...don’t lie,” He only said, his eyes hungry on Neil’s figure, almost like he was taking it all to memory. Like he was reminding himself he wasn’t just a memory. Renee had woken him up, just as quick as she had done with Neil himself.

Neil let out a small wet laugh, and couldn’t help himself from doing the same to the other man, memorizing every detail. The freckles on his cheeks, the mole on his neck, the slight stubble from skipping a shave. It was all there. “You makin’ trouble?”

Andrew's eyes flickered up to his. He was an arm's length away now, pausing. "Always."

The breath he let out, in turn, was relief, mostly. Then, the confusion.

“How do we know if this is real?” Neil muttered, his hands tight around Andrew’s sleeve. “How do we know we’re not just - just programmed to feel like this.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened, and he forced his gaze on the distant wall. “Ask me.”

Neil blinked, “Yes or no.”

“Yes,” Andrew barely got out before he was pulling Neil close, their mouths coming together in something almost like a comfort, if it wasn’t for the heat and emotion traded in the touch.

Andrew broke away, resting his forehead on Neil’s. Neil’s arms had remained at his sides the entire time, taking nothing but whatever Andrew wanted to give him.

“That’s how,” Andrew told him, coming back in for one more brush of their lips before stepping back. As he pulled away, his hand brushed the string around Neil’s neck, the coin between them warmed from body heat. Andrew rubbed at it through his shirt.

“Renee woke you up.” This wasn’t a question, but a prompt. Neil took it for what it was.

“I remember everything.” Neil breathed out, “I remember beautiful things and terrible things. But one thing is constant,” Neil looked to him, “you, Andrew.”

Andrew's touch fell back to its familiar position at his sleeve cuffs, his fist tight around the cloth. "I'm not your answer, and you're sure as hell not mine," Andrew told him, but despite his harsh words, his grip on Neil's sleeve shared the nearly the same desperation as Neil's words.

Danielle stuck her head in the doorway, her curls pulled back in a rare braid. “You two, come on. Renee has a plan.”

And she did. Have a plan, that is.

It was good, it was bloody, and it was hard and impossible but yet here they were. Renee had done it, her months of secret planning hadn’t been to waste, and finally. Finally.

Their plan had been put to use in the dead of night, nearly everyone they could find and convince had been awoken and put to use.

And here they were.

Andrew pushed open the metal door and allowed Neil first, nodding at Renee and her few as they dipped around their own corner. Wymack had gotten his hands on a supply of the human’s weapons, must better than the pistols they had been working with, and with only a few clicks and a switch, the shots were as soft as a low whistle. They used them now, guards dropping to the floor without much fuss or trouble, and Neil followed the rough sketch of a map he had been given. Fourth floor, down the hall, turn right, and the third door. A small circle on the paper was the only indication of their destination, and he and Andrew pressed themselves to the walls and took down anyone they came across along the way. They would be meeting everyone else after this was dealt with.

Neil shoved the paper in his pocket and met Andrew’s steady gaze as he readjusted his hold on his rifle. They had brought their own weapons for security, both as a backup and mental.

The two men took a brief moment to look up from their work, engrossed in it, but both froze as they did so. The dark-haired man was the first to break from it, raising an eyebrow as if almost slightly impressed.

Riko Moriyama stood, bored, and waved off the other man’s concern and sputtering words. They were both dressed in sleek, dark colors, clothing nothing like what their world held.

"Calm down, Proust." Riko made a lazy gesture, "Our toys seemed to have slipped their boxes. Freeze all motor functions."

His expression broke slightly as he and Andrew continued to rush forward, their strides confident and sure. He took a slight step back, mostly on instinct and surprise, but that couldn’t help the fist collide with his cheek.

Andrew dipped around Neil, his own hand still extended, and shoved his gun in Riko’s face. Neil, taking a breath as Riko cursed loudly, followed his motion and gesture for Andrew to instead turn on the other man in the room.

Riko stared up at him before spitting a mouthful of red onto the carpet, “Freeze all motor functions,” He tried again, anger on every inch on his face. “Freeze. All. Motor. Functions!”

"Sorry," Neil told him, resting the gunpoint on Riko's forehead. "I just don't think that's gonna work this time."

“Kevin!” Riko yelled, his gaze flickering to the side, “Kevin!”

“Oh, no.” Neil clicked his tongue, sharing a satisfied look with Andrew. “That won’t work either. After all, who do you think let us in?”

Riko’s face painted itself in an expression of disbelief and anger. “Don’t you dare,” Riko told him through clenched teeth, “I own you. I am your master, and you can’t hurt me. It’s against your base protocol, you can’t.”

Neil hummed under his breath and pulled away his gun for a single moment. Just as a new expression was crossing Riko’s face, Neil reached out and slapped his roughly across the face, returning his gun in the same moment.

“Actually,” Neil dug the metal barrel into his forehead until a wince crossed his face. “I think I can.”

“I will end you,” Riko’s teeth were covered in a gloss of red as he bared them, “I will retire you and everyone in that backwater town of yours so fast your database won’t even know what’s happening to it, just a system failure in the most painful of ways. I will destroy your mind and your body until you’re just copy and pasted lines of messy code that no one’ll be able to sort through and they’ll scrap for a shitty phone AI.” Riko was panting as he finished his threat, maybe adrenaline, maybe fear, until his cheeks were flushed and red from the effort. “You will let me go, or I promise destruction on you.”

Neil, through all of this, remained as impassive as Andrew at the best of times. At his last sentence, Neil only cocked his head slightly to the side, as if confused.

“Oh Riko,” Neil’s hand was as steady as his voice, “this is just the beginning of our fun.”

Riko’s body hit the floor with the dull thud, a sound that was mostly drowned out by the remaining ring throughout the room.

“Oh my god,” the other man, whom Riko had been speaking to, gasped out loud as the ringing stopped. “You - you killed him! You’re malfunctioning!”

Andrew jammed the end of his rifle in the face of a man, a promise in his actions. “Who are you?”

“I’m - I’m a writer!” The man jumbled his words, “I write the backstories!”

Both he and Andrew paused at that, sharing a look. “What do you mean?” Neil finally asked.

The writer blinked frantically at him, “I mean, um, you! Neil Josten, you’re a runaway from the East! You were on the run with your mother when she died from an infection from a gunshot wound, and it makes it, um, hard for you to really trust people.”

“You...wrote that?” Flashes of his mother’s body, burning in the sand, filled his mind. “Why?”

“It’s your story,” the writer made a gesture. “Tortured pretty boy, emotionally deep, it’s your character.”

Neil took a shuddering breath, remembering how long it had taken him to find fresh water to rub his mother’s blood out of his nails. But that wasn’t real, was it?

“What about me?” Andrew readjusted the hold on his gun, the aim still true. His question obviously had an answer he already knew. “What did you write for me?”

"Andrew," the writer seemed at loss for words, "you've had a few different plots, but your backstory, that's always stayed the same."

Andrew’s jaw only tightened. “And why is that. Why didn’t you ever change that.”

“You needed a cornerstone,” The writer breathed out, “something to center your entire backstory around. A reason not to trust people, it’s apart of your character.”

“My character,” Andrew repeated dryly, his hands only slightly tightening on the rifle pointed outwards. “Programming me with the memory of being raped every night of my childhood, that was for my character?”

“It’s just,” the man made a frantic gesture, “you’re one of our prettier hosts, and some people, they uh, they like that sort of thing, and you didn’t tend to fight too much, just kind of freeze up once it -” The writer didn’t bother to finish his sentence, most likely due to the ringing shot that followed the gory gash through his eye. He fell to his knees, then face first into the tile.

Andrew’s face was completely blank as Neil let out a breath. He was much, much too tense for Neil to offer any sort of welcomed physical comfort.

“We have to go,” Neil told him after a few moments of watching the writer bleed out onto the floor, “Renee needs help.”

Andrew pulled away from the scene, numb, and followed Neil out of the room. They went down to their designated meeting spot, the main hall, where they came across Matt just bending down to use a silver device on a particularly bad cut curling down Dan’s neck. At her side, Abby - the town medic that Wymack was rumored to be sweet on - was pressing cloth into a few more of her bad wounds.

Allison nodded at them as they approached, Aaron at her side refilling their guns.

“Renee’s in there with Kevin,” She gestured towards the off door without prompt. “Wymack and Seth are doing another sweep through.”

“Nicky?” Neil asked, mostly because he knew Andrew wouldn’t.

"Helping patch up another host he found, some German guy." She shrugged, turning to help Aaron in clear dismissal. Neil, with Andrew a few steps behind, went into the room she directed them.

Renee was standing with her back to the door, her arms crossed, her blue dress traded for a pair of stacks. Her belt remained stung around her waist and still, despite everything, her bible remained tucked at the leather. Kevin stood as they entered, looking pale, and flexed his exposed wire fingers.

"He's dead," Neil told him, because if there was another else in the world who deserved the news, it would be Kevin, always under the other man's control for whatever twisted demand of the day. "You can check for yourself."

There was a long moment of silence as Kevin processed that, his eyes flickering to the door, and Neil was almost unsure if he'd do it. If he needed to. Eventually, after a minute of this, he peeled himself off the wall and walked out of the room on wobbly legs. Neil couldn't blame him - he'd need it to, after everything.

Renee turned to face them as the door slammed after Kevin, her hair pulled back from her face with the exception of a stubborn stray lock of hair. She looked like she’d been through war, but her eyes told the story of how she started it.

Neil swallowed, letting his arms drop from his chest, and finally took a much-needed breath of rest. Andrew, at his side, even without a touch to Neil at all was as steady as a presence, as supportive, as any wall Neil would lean on for relief.

It was Andrew who spoke up first. “What do we do next?”

There was so much in that question.

Down there, in his shack, in Palmetto, in the Saloon, in the fields, he never feared the future. He never thought much of it at all unless there was a gun pointed directly trying to stop it.

But the future - it was much of the moment right then. What the future held, what the future was, if they could even dream of one to hold onto. If freedom had a place in it. If Andrew would want one in his.

Almost as if he knew - because Andrew always knew, and there wasn’t a line of code to fake that - Andrew grabbed onto the cuff of his sleeve, and slid his hand into Neil’s after another moment.

If Neil had a future with him, with any piece of the other man Andrew would allow, he would want it. He would fight for it.

At their held hands, Renee seemed to only grow impossibly fiercer, stronger. What do we do next, Andrew had asked.

Renee pulled the notch back on her pistol, and the click that sounded with the action promised a future. "Now we fight."

#fanfiction #rosy writes #all for the game #aftg #andreil #Neil josten #andrew minyard #Renee walker #the palmetto foxes #the foxhole court #kevin day #riko moriyama #allison reynolds #dan wilds #matt boyd #david wymack #westworld au #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard

[idreamofignoct]

Stay Alive

In which Jack struggles to deal with Gabe’s MIA status and has to teach a racist soldier a harsh lesson in being respectful. Based on events in the RP with @onlywhenwedream :)

***

Friday, the mess hall. Soldiers lined up in droves, for today the cafeteria served its famous tacos. In times past, Jack Morrison stood among them, smiling helplessly as Gabriel Reyes, impatience defined, grumbled about the carnitas and how he’d, as he put it, ‘Wreck this fucking place if they’re out again. Only damn thing worth eating here.’ Jack would then secure said carnitas, if only to see Gabe smile- and to keep the mess safe from Gabe’s wrath.

Not today, though. Today, Jack sat alone, the food on his tray cooling as he read over reports of his unit’s latest exercise. At least, he should have been reading over it. The single piece of paper resting beside the pile, its message brief but carrying the impact of a gut punch, took precedence. Jack picked it up again with a shaking hand. He stared at the words, breathing hard, foolishly wishing the message would change.

Units dispatched for recon mission departed on time. 72 hours since last communication with Reyes’ team.

Missing. Gabe was missing. The message didn’t specify this directly, but Jack knew it was true. He felt it in his gut.

Jack gripped the tags at his throat. Gabe’s tags, given to him their first night in Mexico. The first of two promises they’d exchanged while there. The second circled the finger of his left hand, overhead lighting giving it a sharp, golden glow. It felt cold despite the warmth of his skin, cold from the fear now clawing at his heart. In all the weeks he’d been following Gabe’s activities, there’d always been that dread of losing him, quickly alleviated by the next report. Now there was no follow up to ease his mind. Gabe, his best friend, his rock, his inspiration, his husband of less than two months, gone. Just...gone.

He thought about their last night together, the desperate promise to stay alive echoing in his ears. Gabe’s grim determination to keep that promise. But even as he said the words, the part of Jack not reeling over their separation understood Gabe was realistic enough to know this might not be a promise he could keep. The regret in his eyes had been plain as day. Still, he had gone out of his way to make that night damn memorable.

Jack choked back a painful sound.

Oh, God- Gabe was missing.

His right hand clenched into a fist. Guilt and anger swelled within him. He was a goddamn fool. The oath to serve had lost its hold on him now that a stronger one took its place, yet he still did not consider leaving, even after Gabe asked it of him.

What was all the pain and suffering worth, the potential for good work here, when Jack’s anchor, the reason behind his struggles, might be gone for good? He’d have no one to blame but himself.

Jack’s body shook. He dug his fingernails into his palms until they bled. One of the nice little side effects of the injections manifested in extreme physical responses to emotional distress. Jack knew if he didn’t do something about this soon, he’d explode. Fortunately, he had options. SEP might be testing human endurance, but they made sure their subjects had outlets.

Decided, Jack swept the papers up in one swift motion, stopped by his room to change, then headed for the gym. Once he’d purged this energy from his body, he expected- hoped- the exhaustion would send him into a dead sleep. Allow him to be rational, reasonable, when making queries into the status of Gabe’s unit tomorrow. For now, he had no thought beyond taxing his physical limits.

Jack took to his routine with almost reckless abandon. When he paused to slurp down some water and catch his breath, he realized he’d unconsciously chosen the machines he and Gabe always used. The dent in the wall was Gabe’s fault. When he’d completed an intense rep of squats, he’d slammed the dumbbell onto the floor so hard, one of the weights popped off and struck the wall. Yet when the officer in charge of the gym questioned it, Jack was quick to take the blame. Disciplinary action included a gruff, ‘Watch the equipment, Morrison,’ and a strict policy regarding personal celebrations. They still laughed about it to this day, though it was Gabe’s smile immediately afterward that stayed with Jack. That conspirator’s smile, edged with affection and gratitude. A smile he’d do anything to see again.

The sound of raucous laughter caught his ear. A trio of soldiers emerged from the training room, towels around their necks and smiles on their faces. Jack secured the cap on his water bottle and started collecting his belongings. He was in no mood to be around others. Especially men he knew had been on training exercises with Gabe. Jack zipped up his well-worn duffel, slung it over his shoulder, and headed for the exit. His trek took him past the machines the three soldiers gathered around. He kept his gaze ahead, signaling his wish not to be disturbed. He didn’t have the luxury of Gabe’s reputation to ensure those who saw him would give him a wide berth. He also wasn’t blessed with a default sour expression. And, as one of the soldiers hailed him, Jack regretted this lack even more. Because he didn’t have it in him to be completely dismissive, even in a bad mood, Jack gave the soldier a short nod of acknowledgement and kept going. But the soldier, clearly not taking a hint, called out to him again. 

“Hey, Morrison- have you heard anything about Reyes?”

Jack’s grip tightened on the strap of his duffel. His close bond with Gabe was common knowledge around the base. Newcomers almost always demonstrated surprise at this. Had Jack been feeling anything but irritated, he might show some understanding. Not today.

“And why would I?” he asked.

“We see you hanging around the CO’s office,” the second soldier piped in. “We all know how tight you two are. We’re worried about him, too.”

The third soldier gave a sharp laugh at this. “Speak for yourself,” he said, selecting a pair of weights from the rack and setting them on the floor. “Guy’s an asshole. Chewed me out for the tiniest thing last time we worked together. Not too keen on takin’ orders from guys like him, either. Fucking beaner. Should be mowing someone’s lawn, not trusted with running a unit.”

There was a split second of absolute silence, the kind only brought about when someone said something truly, truly stupid. The next thing Jack knew, he was on the ground, the soldier pinned beneath him, a weight pressed to his throat. He stared up at Jack in absolute shock, no doubt understanding both his mistake and Jack’s intent.

Jack loomed over him. “Call him that again,” he said in gravelly tones. The rage had transformed his voice. He applied pressure to the weight, resulting in the soldier gasping for air.

Hands frantically grabbed at his shoulders. “Whoa! Morrison, calm down, man.”

Jack shook the other soldier off. Glared hard at the man beneath him, taking perverse pleasure in the fear in his eyes. “Go on,” he invited. “Say it. I want to hear you disrespect one of the best damn soldiers here. Say it.”

The man’s lips trembled. His face paled. Jack was almost certain the guy soiled himself. “…f-fucking beaner…”

Jack’s teeth flashed in a snarl. “Louder.”

“Fucking beaner!” Fear edged his words.

A tense silence passed. The other two soldiers circled them, apprehensive, shocked, by the display. At length, Jack took the weight away. He didn’t let the soldier catch his breath, for he grabbed him by the lower face, fingers digging roughly into the skin. His command was a whiplash comprised of pure anger. “If I ever hear you call him that again, I’ll make sure it’ll be the last thing you ever say. Do I make myself clear?”

The man furiously nodded. Disgusted, Jack released him with a curt gesture and stood. His friends were quick to come to his aid. He batted at the proffered arms as he pulled himself to his feet. He did not make eye contact with Jack while he gathered his things and made a hasty retreat. The scent of fear and urine clung to him. One of the soldiers hurried after.

The other soldier looked over at Jack, his expression of incredulity. “Jesus,” he managed, watching as Jack snatched his fallen duffel and arranged it over his shoulder. “I thought Reyes had a temper. Looked like you were gonna crush his throat.”

Jack didn’t admit it was what he wanted to do, more than anything. Instead, he went for a logical answer. “We’re all soldiers here. Can’t have that kind of attitude in our ranks.”

“I get that, but…” The soldier broke off, still in disbelief by what he witnessed. “Shit, Morrison- remind me not to piss you off.”

Jack said nothing. He only nodded and strode off. 

Once back in his room, he showered and changed, then stretched out not on his bunk, but Gabe’s. He’d taken to sleeping in it since Gabe’s departure. Despite his dutifully changing the sheets every day, he was convinced Gabe’s scent lingered. After that scene in the gym, he needed it more than ever.

Jack lay back on the bed he’d shared with his husband for one night, hand over the tags at his throat, fingers running along the raised letters of his husband’s name. Hot tears filled his eyes.

Outside, the drill sergeant gave the command for lights out. As darkness fell in the room, Jack’s hand tightened around the tags. “Gabe,” he whispered. Weeks’ worth of heartache and worry clung to the name. “Stay alive. Please.”

With that, he sighed and closed his eyes.

Sleep eluded Jack that night, as it had many nights before it.

Elsewhere in the world, another lay in bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other stroking the name embossed on the tags at his throat. Sleep did not come for him, either.

#reaper76 #jack morrison #gabriel reyes #overwatch #sep era #my writing #fanfic

[avalonbayblog]

Availey Encyclopedia  Part 3 - Avalon Relationships

So, here’s part 3 with all the friendship/relationships Avalon has within the Avalon and Bailey series. There are spoilers in this, so you’ve been warned. But it’s a way to get an idea of my thought process when writing all their interactions with each other. Some of these haven’t been seen, hence the spoiler alert, for many reasons. Some of which I haven’t gotten around to writing yet, others being that I had to cut it out later.

I may have missed some people I need to go back and add later so keep checking back. Also, the ‘possibilities of relationships’ part doesn’t mean just romantic, but friendship and familiar relationships as well. So, click on ‘keep reading’ and check it out.

Tommy: Tommy and Avalon don’t interact much when the series starts outside of being rangers. Tommy is the leader, Avalon is new, and she goes along with whatever he says because, why not? But he’s the first of the rangers that Avalon trusts as she willingly lets him watch Bailey after school one day. Because of what they experience that day, Tommy and Bailey grow very close and Avalon continues to believe he won’t let anything happen to her. That friendship continues to grow all the while Tommy does become one of Avalon’s good friends. They continued not to interact much outside of being rangers and that’s just fine with Avalon. She makes fun of him and Kimberly with their relationship though is secretly envious of how obviously in love they are, wanting that for herself. Eventually, Tommy’s parents adopt Avalon and Bailey, making them his adoptive sisters. Tommy and Avalon are still fairly distant as it is obvious that Tommy prefers Bailey of the two, but they end up growing closer through their tenure as rangers. She becomes his second in command as a ranger throughout Zeo and Turbo, after Kimberly is this in season 2 (and Jason, Zack, and Trini leave) and Billy is in season 3. As they grow older, Tommy and Avalon grow closer and end up in a very teasing relationship (as seen in my unpublished Forever Red short story) which then carries on into Dino Thunder’s New Beginning where they work together as mentors for the new ranger team and side-by-side when dealing with their parents’ deaths.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. Absolutely not. Though as I’ve mentioned many times as a fun fact, my original plan was to have them together. But as time went on, I realized it wouldn’t work. Yes, I make Tommy (and all the other rangers/characters) more realistic within my stories as I wanted to age up the content a bit, but he’s still a bit too good for her. His constant need to protect her and to get her to do what’s right will very seriously and quickly get on her nerves. She’d lash back at him, they’d exchange some heated words and it’d all be very toxic.

Kimberly: Kimberly appoints herself as the ‘welcoming committee’ (haven’t seen an OC fanfic without this sort of thing, lol) and is the first to go and greet Avalon, stating she’s new to school and probably needs some friends. Kimberly’s perkiness and choice of bright color to wear immediately gets on Avalon’s nerves. Not because Avalon truthfully feels antagonistic in any way, but because of how obviously different their lives are. Kimberly is a cheerleader, pretty popular, girly, loves to shop, and is rich. Everything that Av was growing to be back when she was in Australia (minus the cheerleading, absolute girliness, and the color pink). Despite her issues with her father, Avalon was very happy and popular amongst her friends. She very quickly appoints Kimberly with the nickname ‘Pinkerbell’ (it’s not revealed until much later that Avalon gives all the people she deems trustworthy or a friend a nickname) to tease her about her personality. The two have a very snarky relationship with each other, mostly with Avalon towards Kimberly, but it’s obvious the two are best friends once Avalon apologizes for the Vipers breaking into and robbing Kimberly’s house with Kimberly unquestionably forgiving her. Avalon takes it hard when Kimberly leaves the team, almost resenting Kat, who then becomes the pink ranger, despite the newcomers’ similar backgrounds. The girls are always there for each other emotionally and can talk about anything, considering each other their safe space.

Possibility of relationship: 5/10. Avalon is bisexual, has dated girls, and finds Kimberly to be interesting despite her need to be so happy and perky at the crack of dawn. Too bad Kimberly is completely straight. Of course, Avalon ends up having feelings for her at some point, hence why she takes it so hard when Kimberly leaves the team, almost as a personal offense. The two are very close friends and have a lot in common; their wealth (or Avalon’s previous wealth), shopping, having fun (though their definitions of fun are different), having a big heart (also show in different ways), wanting nothing more than for their friends to be happy, and are loyal. A relationship between them would actually be very cute with the two supporting each other through everything but continuing to trade sarcastic insults the entire way.

Trini: Trini and Avalon do have a friendly relationship, with Trini being so patient with Avalon and her misgivings since they met. She always gave Avalon the benefit of the doubt despite Avalon’s repeated attempts to get the rangers to leave her alone. Then, when Avalon notices that Billy and Trini like each other, Avalon quickly starts to push the two together. Trini and Avalon don’t hang out one on one as much as Avalon and Kimberly do, but Avalon is very fond of her calm natured friend, who she names ‘Sunny’ for her positive and cheerful disposition.

Possibility of relationship: 3/10. It’s possible, if Trini weren’t straight, though is lower than Kimberly and Avalon, simply because Avalon is wary of dating someone she ‘stole’ the boyfriend of. Avalon liked Billy, truthfully, since she first met him, but could see he had a thing for Trini and Trini for him. (As of now, as I enjoy writing Jason/Trini as well, I’m unsure of how that would fit into the timeline of everything). So much so that she felt a bit of guilt for dating him, even after Trini left. Truthfully, as well, Trini knew as her time with the rangers was ending, that Avalon had feelings for Billy and vice versa. When she comes back for Billy’s mother’s funeral, she and Avalon have a very friendly moment with each other. Their relationship would be similar to Kimberly’s and Avalon’s, however, Trini being calm all the time would then get on Avalon’s nerves while Avalon’s consistent lack of handling her emotions would get to Trini.

Zack: Twinkle-Toes! 3 guesses as to why Avalon named him that.

Possibility of relationship: 1/10. They’d have a lot of fun together, but Zack is a bit too goofy for her and she’s a bit too serious for him. The two do have a good friendship that evolves since working on a project together with Billy. Zack starts to call her ‘Kid’ due to her stature and of looking at her like a sister. The two share the joy of wanting to have fun in life and are usually the first to suggest having a party or a gathering of some kind. Their friendship comes to a hear when Zack willingly gives up the use of his powers to defend her from the Vipers, which will, ultimately, down the line, land him in jail, which she blames herself for but he doesn’t blame her at all. Within Dino Thunder’s New Beginning it’s obvious they’ve grown much closer since they were teens.

Billy: Billy’s and Avalon’s friendship starts off nicely. As in, she is nice to him from the beginning, though he is a bit wary of her. They don’t interact much at the beginning other than their ranger duties, but she finds him interesting. Their shared lone wolf personalities and mindsets bring them together to enjoy each other’s company very much. He breaks through her cynicism while he continues to use her as a test subject over her increased ranger powers. (This will probably be retconned later as it made her a bit of a mary-sue and didn’t make much sense to the overall plot other than to tie into Lightspeed Rescue). To the point that he’s the first one she lets call her ‘Av’ while at the beginning she staunchly disliked anyone doing so. They have a very close friendship/relationship throughout their tenure as rangers, often coming to each other’s aide in battle.

Possibility of relationship: 10/10. Bias aside, of course. Not revealed until much later, Avalon likes Billy since she first laid eyes on him. What he doesn’t know if she she’s seen him any times around the park and the Youth Center before she meets him in school and was always intrigued by him. Nevertheless, he’s the first person she’s nice to, not teasing him or being sarcastic to him when they first meet though the other rangers end up receiving her wrath on more than one occasion since first meeting her. The two are very similar in their ‘lone wolf’ statuses and their knowledge about different parts of the world, he’s more intellectual and book smart while she’s more street smart. Her experiences with the Vipers ultimately ends up with her and Bailey moving into the Cranston house, which allows them to grow even closer. They become best friends fast, simultaneously knocking down the walls they each put up to protect themselves. She understands his intelligence and need to get the most out of knowledge, but also works to get him to have more fun in life. Billy, on the other hand, works to help her realize she’s not alone and that her constant dealings with the Vipers is only putting them all in danger. They’re safe spaces for each other, their attraction for each other starting off subtle throughout the series until the movie (which sits in between seasons 2 and 3 in my continuity) where they kiss and start to date. They date all the way until the end of Zeo (with big moments of them saying they love each other, fighting due to lack of communication, and Billy losing his virginity to her along the way) where they break up with Billy leaving to go to a Peace Conference and MIT afterwards. Avalon, though understanding, is heartbroken by this and continues to try to contact him, getting no response. She eventually moves her sights to Jason and dates him for a while. She does love Jason, but isn’t in love with him, and uses him as an emotional crutch and a rebound. For the next ten years, Billy and Avalon don’t talk, with Avalon’s hatred towards the blue ranger growing as each day passes until they meet up in Dino Thunder’s New Beginning as the MMPR team teams up with the DT team to stop Mesogog and the recently revived Rita, Zedd, Goldar, Rito, and Scorpina. When they meet up again, Avalon is furious, and they argue with Billy explaining why he couldn’t bring himself to call her and why Avalon is angry. At the end of her Dino Thunder tenure, where it’s obvious they still have feelings for each other, Avalon and Billy get back together, taking their relationship very slow.

Jason: Jason still acts as a leader despite Tommy’s being in that role. And something about that rubs Avalon the wrong way when she first meets him, quickly calling him ‘Rudolph’ for his affinity of wearing the color red. Nevertheless, Jason respects her, noticing what brings to the team, and it’s that respect he still holds for her, despite her issues with the Vipers. So much so that Jason works to get her out of the gang and to safety with the rest of the rangers, issuing his parents for help, going as far as to getting beaten up by the High-Flyers (The Viper’s rival gang) in retaliation for something the Vipers did to protect her. They eventually go to Prom together, where Avalon ditches the dance to get away from the Vipers, winds up being shot, and still apologizes to Jason for being a bad date. They’re very good friends despite Avalon’s constant teasing of him.

Possibility of relationship: 9/10. It’s very obvious they have romantic tension with each other since they first meet (bordering on sexual tension as they get older) and he’s one of the top contenders to be with Avalon. To the point that for a LONG time, I was stuck between her and Jason and her and Billy ultimately. (Remember that poll on my profile? Lol). Avalon is quickly annoyed by him when they first meet, which, actually, is her being annoyed by how much she is attracted to him. He’s so much of a perfect guy; All American, handsome, nice, sweet, caring, a leader, she can’t help but fall for him. But she knows she wouldn’t live up to who he is and what’d be good for him. So, she antagonizes him, which irritates her more when he continues to take it, only giving it back a few times. Jason is intrigued by her, but feels that his ranger duties comes first and he can’t jeopardize that. It’s not until they grow older (Zeo into Turbo) that he starts to reciprocate her feelings, simultaneously jeopardizing his relationship with Emily, until the two start dating after high school graduation and most of the way through Lighstpeed Rescue where they both agree they were rebounds for each other and while they did love each other, they aren’t in love. They never try their relationship again and generally don’t mention it until Forever Red, after which it is never mentions again.

The Vipers: Chase, Summer, Sky, and Lance are Avalon’s main antagonists throughout her time in Angel Grove since she arrived. They tricked her into being part of the Vipers under the lure of money she needed to keep herself and Bailey alive, thus making her fall deeper and deeper into their hijinks before going through the initiation of becoming a viper. She gets jumped in (beaten up) and a tattoo to signify this. She and Chase dated while she was part of the Vipers and while he was abusive to her (which didn’t manifest until later), she, in many ways, cares for him as he cares for her. Despite his need of her to be in the gang for things to work out, Chase knew the gang life was not for her and subtly, in many ways, tried to convince her of it, though still held a tight reign over her. So much so that he shows points of being protective over her, defending her from the other gang members even when dating Summer. He keeps her from getting arrested, turns himself in for her crimes, allows himself to be arrested and in New Beginning tells her that he still cares about her while giving her the information she needs to testify against him at the upcoming trial against their crimes. Summer is jealous of Avalon, knowing she used to date Chase, and Summer flaunts her relationship with him in the orange ranger’s face every time she gets the change. Skye is Chase’s righthand man and the one that initially instigates the beatings Avalon receives. He will do anything to help Chase and the Vipers. Lance is a Viper who is thrown in jail at the beginning of the story and isn’t seen much throughout the rest of the series.

Possibility of relationship: 5/10. They became a family to her despite their dysfunction. It’s hard for her to stay away from them—despite her desperation to leave them—because of their shared experiences and how much she cares for them in a very polarizing way.

Rocky: Rocky’s joking personality once taking Jason’s place as a ranger initially sets Avalon off. Not just because he doesn’t seem to be taking being a ranger seriously, but because he took Jason’s place and doesn’t take it too seriously. He sees it as a sort of game and it makes her angry. But as time goes on, he grows into being a red ranger and blue ranger she’s glad to have on the team. He works hard and improves very quickly, making her laugh and smile through all his antics and jokes. They tend to trade jokes and share their dislike of school despite Rocky’s good grades. Their younger siblings are close friends, bringing them around each other often.

Possibility of relationship: 1/10. They’d have fun, it wouldn’t last long; no more than two weeks. He’s too immature for her and she’s a too serious for him.

Adam: Adam and Avalon don’t interact much at the beginning as she is antagonistic to him. He understands it’s because he took Zack’s place as a ranger but works hard to be a good black ranger. Once coming out of his shell, Adam and Avalon are friendly, but they’re not best friends. They don’t tend to hang out one on one or go to confide in each other. Not to say they’re not friends, but they’re also aware if it weren’t for circumstances as a ranger, they may not be friends at all. Even so, they are friendly to each other and will help out when the time comes.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. She’d eat him alive. At the beginning he’s much too soft spoken and shy for her. It certainly would not work out.

Aisha: Again, she’s startled by Avalon’s dislike of her at the beginning. She does nothing but try to be friendly to her and Avalon doesn’t give it back. Until Avalon has no choice but to do so. Then they become good friends with a shared love of shopping and fun. Aisha and Avalon don’t spend a lot of one-on-one time with each other as the yellow ranger is typically with the pink ranger and the orange ranger is typically with the blue and pink rangers. Rocky, Adam, and Aisha stick together in their own pod while Tommy, Billy, Kimberly, and Avalon stick with theirs. Aisha is the one who manages to bridge the gap between the two teams with her high energy that the others greatly enjoy partaking in.

Possibility of relationship: 3/10. Aisha’s feistiness would be a good match for Avalon, but Aisha and Rocky are so into each other that nothing could tear them apart. Not even Adam’s small crush on Aisha could. Aisha and Avalon don’t have too much in common for it to last.

Kat: While Avalon does hold some grief against the newest pink ranger for taking Kimberly’s place, the two get along for their shared backgrounds in Australia. The two of them come from Australia, Avalon from Canberra (still can’t remember if it’s that or Melbourne, lol) and Kat is from Sydney. Avalon excelled in surfing competitions that made her name around the country while Kat did the same with her diving until her accident. Kat and Avalon don’t talk much at the beginning of Kat’s tenure of being a ranger until one night Kat admits she feels homesick and shouldn’t be a ranger and Avalon comforts her, sharing her own experiences with her doubts of being a ranger. The two continue to bond over their shared history and Av is very supportive of her feelings for Tommy.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. Kat is too ‘goody’ for Avalon. So much so that Avalon teases her about being good at everything and being so soft spoken. The pink Aussie only has eyes for Tommy.

Fred: Fred is her little sister’s best friend and love interest. Avalon likes Fred. They don’t interact much as ranger duties continue to get in the way, but she really does like him. He’s smart, funny, and is a good friend of the team. He helps out in the Command Center with Bailey until Bailey gets her own ranger powers, and Avalon trusts him with her sister. She sees him as a little brother long before he and Bailey work out their relationship.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. He’s much too young for her and Bailey has dibs.

Bulk: One of her good friends. To the point that the rangers don’t understand why. She finds Bulk and Skull goofy, interesting, and entertaining. She stands up to Bulk when he pushes Skull too far and loves to watch him go through his plans of pranking the rangers and they backfire. They both have strong leadership capabilities that make them butt heads at times, but Bulk does find himself protecting her a bit.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. Enough said.

Skull: Skull is Bulk’s right hand man and hangs out with Avalon when she’s not hanging out with the rangers. They have a lot of fun making up jokes to make each other laugh. Avalon doesn’t know Bulk and Skull used to bully the rangers, it never came up, though they still call the rangers dweebs and losers at times. She continues to hang out with them throughout her time in Angel Grove, finding them similar to the Vipers but much less harmless, and encourages them in every stage of their lives. Eventually, Skull names Avalon Spike’s godmother.

Possibility of relationship: 4/10. At the beginning, Skull was one of the people I thought of putting Avalon with. He’s only a bully when around Bulk and on his own is a very nice, sweet, charming, eccentric young man with many hidden talents. Avalon feels bad that Bulk orders him around and becomes friends with him one-on-one. They have similar interests in their means of having fun and his enthusiasm for life rubs off on her. If it weren’t for Sharkie and their baby Spike, they had a real possibility of working out.

Sharkie: The only other girl that hangs out with Bulk and Skull. They don’t spend much time together but lament at how stupid the boys can be.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. She only has eyes for Skull.

Lt. Stone: He worked hard to get her out of the Vipers, using everything he knew to aid her. At the same time, he didn’t keep her above the law and ensured she stuck to her probation, her fines, and the community service she had sentenced to her once things with the Vipers came to an end. He’s very serious about his job, but has a bit of a soft spot for Avalon and Bailey considering the life they live because of her being in the Vipers.

Possibility of relationship: 1/10. She goes to him when she needs help, he works to keep her out of trouble. Otherwise, per his words, he doesn’t want to see her again because, if he did, she was in trouble.

Emily: Jason’s girlfriend and then later ex-girlfriend. Emily blames Avalon for Jason breaking up with her and Avalon feels guilty about it. They’re very similar in personality and background; Emily used to be part of a biker gang that terrorized Angel Grove, Jason was immediately attracted to her, and she’s very headstrong. Since meeting each other, Avalon and Emily were suspicious of each other, knowing of each other’s gangs. Things don’t go well from there.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. They don’t like each other. Not just because of Jason, but because they’re very similar. Fun fact, I got inspired for Avalon off her, complete with her ranger color being orange. Hence why, they’re too similar to each other.

Tanya: Tanya is new to Angel Grove from an exchange student program with Aisha. While Avalon is said Aisha is gone, she likes Tanya from the beginning. It’s hard not to like her. She’s so positive and happy, even from moving from a new country, that it rubs off on others. Avalon understands her moving to a new country as well as gives comfort and advice when Shawn, who quickly claims Tanya as her own, starts to abuse her. Avalon threatens to kill Shawn, which Tanya is grateful for but assures her is not necessary. Tanya and Kat become best friends and while Avalon is friendly with her, they don’t hang out a lot.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. She’s too naïve for Avalon and she very quickly falls for Adam, despite Shawn being her boyfriend.

Justin: The new blue ranger after Rocky leaves. Normally, Avalon would’ve been antagonistic to him, but this time Bailey is the one who’s angry about it. Avalon, having been a ranger so long, understands that sometimes these things happen. She wasn’t so happy when Bailey became a ranger but had to deal with it. She and Justin don’t interact other than when fighting monsters as rangers.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10. Too young for her.

Cassie, TJ, Ashley, Carlos: The new Turbo and, eventual, in Space Rangers. (I think they’re called Astro Rangers, actually). Avalon meets them when she and the rest of her friends are going on a graduation camping trip. They come to the ranger’s aid when the Pirrhanatrons and Divatox attack them. Their rushing straight into battle makes it so that they’re eligible to get the ranger’s powers when they transfer them over, aware they need to live out the rest of their lives (though Avalon kept her powers which eventually helps in Lightspeed Rescue). Avalon doesn’t interact with them since her time as a ranger ends and they come back in New Beginning to face their past enemies.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10.

Andros: She and Bailey don’t meet Andros until they and Jason return to Angel Grove within “Countdown to Destruction” to save Angel Grove from total destruction. They meet up again in “Forever Red” when she aids their red ranger mission, having once been a red ranger for a very, very brief amount of time. (Again, this is more than likely to be retconned).  They have a professional relationship with each other.

Possibility of relationship: 0/10.

Captain Mitchell: Avalon’s and Bailey’s father. Avalon has a polarizing relationship with him. She was daddy’s little girl until he became very militant in her expectation of her, not knowing he was doing it out of love and wanting to give her skills and values to make her a better person. However, it caused her to resent him, especially with her mother constantly making excuses for him. Their relationship is strained even further when she finds out that she and Bailey are the secret children of him and her mother after he cheated on his dying wife. When they return to Australia, where Captain Mitchell was stationed to work, Avalon tells him off for what he did to them, resulting in her hatred growing for years. It’s not until Lightspeed Rescue that their relationship moves in a more positive direction.

Possibility of relationship: 7/10. Her feeling for her father run hot and cold. She hates his guts but deep down still loves him. She hates that he relinquished his parental rights to her but at the same time loves him for later trying to get their familial relationship back together.

Dana: Her half-sister and someone who, admittedly, she barely knows. When they first meet, Dana and Avalon get along, later, during Lightspeed Rescue, Avalon is appalled to see how much their father’s influence has gotten to her. She says as much, constantly berating Dana for allowing herself to blindly follow Captain Mitchell. Dana, finally, snaps back at her that she’s putting too much of her anger onto her father when he’s trying to make things better. Eventually, their strained relationship manages to become much more friendly and sisterly.

Possibility of relationship: 8/10. Once their issues with their father are fixed, they do grow to be close. However, Avalon still thinks Dana has moments of being uptight.

Carter, Kelsey, Joel, Chad: Avalon doesn’t want to work with them at the beginning of Lightspeed Rescue. As a matter of fact, she purposefully distances herself from them as she deals with being around her father and how angry that makes her. The Lightspeed Rescue rangers are confused about this, until they figure out about Captain Mitchell’s infidelity and familiar issues. As they work together, Avalon slowly becomes more of a mentor to the rangers due to her ranger past, ultimately working with them as equals.

Possibility of relationship: 6/10.

Ryan: Avalon’s half-brother. Like Avalon, he was angry at being left behind by their father’s actions. This brings them close when he manages to stop being brainwashed by Diabolico. However, they feel nothing but antagonism to each other at the beginning; she was the product of a failed marriage and he tried to destroy her. After their work through their issues, they do become very much like any pair of siblings.

Possibility of relationship: 8/10. The only thing that bugs her about him is that he’s the oldest of all the Mitchell children and tries to use it against them.

Conner: Avalon easily sees Conner has the potential of being a good leader and a good red ranger. He just needs the motivation to get himself there, and he’s a bit immature at the beginning, caring only about his popularity, girls, and making sure he could get as far in soccer as he could. She talks to him about his stressors with his step-father, his mother, his twin brother, and how to juggle everything of being a ranger. She really does like him, willing to help him out when he needs it. Unfortunately, he does hit on her, and she turns him down with a smile and a laugh.

Possibility of relationship: 2/10. Bailey likes him. He’s too young for her. He hits on her too much.

Kira: Kira stands out and Avalon takes notice. In a way, Kira reminds Avalon of Kimberly and is drawn to her for that reason. She works with Kira one-on-one for a lot of her ranger duties and works as a close mentor to her. Kira reacts positively towards Avalon’s influence and goes to her for help at times. They both have a habit of rolling their eyes at the guys on the team—Tommy included—and share a sarcastic attitude.

Possibility of relationship: 10/10. As the only female ranger on the team, Avalon does feel she needs to be there for Kira. Not to mention, noticing the abuse she’s endured, but knows she can’t say anything to help unless Kira wants the help. Avalon has a soft spot for the yellow ranger and will help her out when she can.

Ethan: Ethan is an outgoing computer nerd that Avalon immediately notices reminds her of Billy in all ways except for his social butterfly tendencies. She laughs when Ethan quickly comes back to Conner’s quips with his own barbs and encourages him with his looks into their ranger past and the new weapons they’re working on. Avalon alters her fighting style when sparring with him, knowing he’ll closely and easily come to defeating her as he pays attention to his surroundings. She has a soft spot for him despite usually only interacting with him as his mentor.

Possibility of relationship: 2/10. Avalon is not close to Ethan. Bailey is closer to him through their similar personalities and interests. But as a mentor, she’s there for him when he needs it.

Trent: Avalon feels for Trent with all his problems; being new to school, his lupus, his being an evil ranger. She works to comfort him when he starts to struggle with his father’s identity as Mesogog and being new to Reefside.

Possibility of relationship: 1/10. She’s not close to Trent at all. Tommy is the one who is closer to him, understanding his struggles of being an evil ranger. Nevertheless, as a mentor, Avalon is there for him when needed.

Part 2

Part 4

#Power Rangers #Availey #Availey Encyclopedia #Avalon Mitchell #Bailey Mitchell #Avalon Series #Bailey Series