#like that needs any fuel on the fire sheesh

[nneogram]

think about it — part one. get laid!

pairing: jaehyun x reader (f)

genre: enemies to lovers!au, college!au, fluff

word count: 8.4k

warnings: language, mentions of sex but not really (oc keeps being told to get laid “emotionally” idk), jungwoo gets scolded about the importance of consent, jungwoo’s in a frat but not really but yes really, quick reminiscent phone call w/ bestie jungkook, oc has unhealthy studying habits but dw it gradually gets better from here

a/n: i’ll say it for all of us - FINALLY, an update on here. this is result of my own college shenanigans, stories from my friends, and far too many fantasies whilst in quarantine. jeni needs to lay off the k-dramas, sheesh. i’d also like to note that this is unedited! there may be a few grammar/spelling mistakes.

▸ playlist (to be linked later)

Your roommate claims that you need to, in the simplest terms, “Get laid.” You are vehemently against this proposal, despite her insistence and clarification.

“Emotionally. You need to get laid emotionally, Y/N,” Megan whines. That’s all she can do from where she is sitting, tucked safely away beneath the blankets on her bed. It’s cocoon-like, she’s explained to you before, “like being in the womb.” Safe. Secure. Warm. You think that if that was her cocoon, then Megan would emerge a butterfly. If you were in her place? You would emerge a moth.

“I don’t think any getting laid needs to be done, regardless of if it’s emotional or not.” You take another flashcard from your prepared deck. Strong Acids. HCl, HBr, HI… HClO4? A hiss leaves your lips when you flip the card over to see the answer. You were missing two more acids. You reluctantly place the card into the pile to review again, which sat next to a much smaller pile of correct cards. The goal for the morning was to move all the cards in the “wrong” pile to the “right” pile, but considering the size difference of the two stacks, that goal would not be achieved.

Megan’s sigh pulls you from your focus. “Dude. Do you see yourself right now? I don’t think I’ve seen you doing anything other than studying for the past two weeks. I’m going to ace this chem midterm and I’m not even in chem. I’m not even a STEM major.”

You frown. “Sorry. Was I being too loud? I can go-”

“No, don’t worry about me. This is about you. I’m concerned for you - you’ve been cooped up more these two weeks than you were in the entirety of fall quarter. Have you taken a break recently?”

“I slept for eight hours straight, I think that’s a good enough break?”

“No, like a real break. Away from studies and school and just doing something… I dunno, fun?”

You shake your head. The past few weeks had been nothing but relentless studying. In an effort to maintain your pristine GPA, you shoved aside what little downtime you allotted yourself in fall quarter to focus on school. It was the least you could do, considering that you were on track to apply to medical school at the end of your undergraduate career. You were only in your first year, so all of the other requirements for med school - clinic, shadowing, research, the works - were inapplicable for the time being. There wasn’t much to get you ahead other than your 4.0.

Megan knows this, but she also knows that you have little to no social life outside of the bare minimum. It’s an unspoken truth that the two of you being assigned as roommates was a blessing in disguise: your studious tendencies help motivate Megan to stay on task while Megan’s more laidback nature reminds you to take a breather sometimes. 

This was one of those times.

“I’m telling you,” Megan crawls over to the edge of her bed to get closer, “You should relax a bit. Just a teeny, tiny bit. Have some fun, live out your first year of college! Make some art, go to the gym, I dunno, step out of your comfort zone. Get laid!”

“You say that last one as if talking from experience,” you tease. 

What was the charge on sulfide again? Fuck, it was two minus. Another card goes into the “wrong” pile.

Megan scoffs. “Please. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and that was in middle school. The most we did was hold hands. Besides, we don’t need men… I just want one.” She mumbles this last part as an afterthought before returning her focus to you. “I think getting a boyfriend would be a great distraction for you.”

You gawk at your roommate, eyes flitting from her to your toppling stack of incorrectly answered cards and back to her. “Do you see this? I don’t need any distractions right now.”

“No, no, I - fuck. I got that all wrong, didn’t I.” Megan facepalms. “What I mean is maybe you should befriend some people, or find some kind of emotional outlet. As much as I pride myself on being your source of positivity, I’m not around all the time to tell you to take a break and relax. You tend to be hard on yourself, y’know?”

Your gaze once again travels to your flashcards, their amount of use prominent in the worn-down corners and smudged ink. “I guess…”

There’s a smile of satisfaction on Megan’s face. “Think about it,” she concludes, then crawls back to her cocoon of blankets to take a nap.

--

The gloom of the rainy weather hits most forcefully in January. With the merriment of the holiday season behind you, it seems there is nothing ahead but cold, and rain, and emptiness. Only so many mugs of hot chocolate could keep your heart warm, and it wasn’t even the good type of hot chocolate - it was the powdery stuff that you mixed in with your lukewarm water because the water kettle you brought with you to the dorm was buggy and never fully heated up a pot of water. 

Yeah, you could buy yourself a cup of cocoa from the coffee shop on campus, but as the college kid stereotype proved, you were broke. So you settle for your half-assed attempt at a comfort drink, taking extra effort to stir the dregs that tend to settle at the bottom of your styrofoam cup.

“So you need to get laid?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the phone.

You sigh. For getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country, Jungkook lacked the ability to draw proper conclusions from given information. He clearly hadn’t paid attention to your five minute spiel on your deteriorating motivation for life and your roommate’s unusual suggestion. “No,” you begin slowly, because if you didn’t control yourself you were going to get annoyed quickly, “I do not need to get laid.”

It’s dusk, around that time of the evening where the world slows down as the sky is painted a myriad of pinks, purples, and oranges. Even in January the sunsets in your college town never failed to astonish you. However, it’s also the time of the day when loneliness hits you most, and for a fraction of a moment you get homesick and usually end up calling someone from home. In this case, you end up contacting a close friend - though you’re beginning to question Jungkook’s title as a close friend, considering he completely missed the point of your rant.

“Well it sure sounds like it,” Jungkook refutes. There’s a loud crunching noise on the other end of the call, and you have to bring the phone away from your ear as the crackling continues. You know for a fact that Jungkook has bitten into a chip, most likely the barbecue ones he always had on hand. The audacity to snack on junk food in the middle of a conversation about your existential crisis - you sometimes wonder how you and Jungkook became friends in high school. 

Then again, you were on the other end slurping the remnants of your hot cocoa. Maybe there was something going for the two of you.

“Think about it.” You’re reminded of that afternoon when Megan said the exact same thing. “You’re unmotivated. Why? Because you’re lonely. How do we fix that? You need to get laid-”

“-Emotionally. Emotionally laid-”

“-Yeah yeah, same difference. They go hand in hand,” Jungkook brushes off. “The point still stands. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

You hesitate to answer. “I’ve never been in a relationship,” you mumble.

“I couldn’t hear you. What?”

“I said I’ve never been in a relationship,” you repeat with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head, momentarily forgetting this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation where Jungkook can see you. Students begin to flood the sidewalks outside of the dorms, likely the last wave of students returning for their later classes. A girl - Megan, you realize after squinting - waves at you from across the street. You wave back, gesturing to her that you’re on a call. She nods and goes on her way to the dorm. 

You return your focus to the call. “No, not kidding.”

“I’m taking that lapse of silence as you actually having to think about it.” You roll your eyes, another gesture that Jungkook cannot see. “How? You’re telling me all four years of high school you never got with someone? Not even a fling? Not even that weird ‘talking’ phase kids do these days? What have you been doing all this time?”

Your mind immediately goes back to your high school graduation. “Valedictorian, weighted GPA of 4.8, Y/N Y/L/N, attending…” You remember the smile on your face as the principal handed you your diploma. You remember the smiles on your parents’ faces, the pride and joy in their eyes. That was when you knew it had all been worth it - no one but you, your parents, and your own pure ambition fueling your fire for the four years of high school.

Maybe the closest you got to any sort of romantic relationship was… with Jungkook.

You liked Jungkook before your brain could fully process it, denying it as platonic affection for the better half of three years as he took you under his wing your freshman year. It was comforting to have someone older than you help you navigate high school, but as much as you tried you could not view Jungkook as an older brother as he so claimed to be.

Of course, nothing was ever to happen. Jeon Jungkook was a boy entirely out of your league - star student, star athlete, poster child for all things good and right in the world - but most importantly, he was your closest friend. It was this label that helped set a boundary for your affections, and your crush became more of a pastime to delve into when you wanted a break from your studies. A fantasy that would never come true.

It wasn’t until he moved away for college your senior year that your crush subsided, hitting you like some sort of epiphany when he returned for his winter break. You had been beyond elated to reunite with your friend, but when you looked in his eyes it dawned on you that the weight of his words and actions no longer affected you as much as they did in the past.

That was your only stint with romance, and you were fine with it staying that way. Yeah, it was a fruitless endeavor, but look what you got out of it: a great friend! And only at the price of three years of unnecessary emotional turmoil and relentless unrequited pining. What a bargain.

“I’ve been busy with school, mainly.” It’s an insufficient summation of your high school experience, but it got the point across. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you and all - and I respect your decision to be single! Human rights and all that - but maybe it’s time for you to get into a relationship.”

You snap your fingers loudly enough to startle a group of guys walking past. You hope the grimace on your face is enough of an apology. “Oh my God, thanks Jungkook! Now that you mention it, let me just hit up one of the many young eligible bachelors pining over me, because there are so many right now.”

The feigned enthusiasm in your voice does not entertain Jungkook as much as you would have liked it to. “I’m sure there are, Y/N. There were plenty in high school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” The playful smile you sport falls from your lips as he proceeds to dive into a list of names. 

“The one guy with the yellow hair… Yugyeom thought you were cute… Oh, Taehyung liked you too-”

“-Taehyung?” You gawk. “The Kim Taehyung. The guy two years older than you, editor of the yearbook and captain of the lacrosse team? The Kim Taehyung who was Prom King. Him?” It’s difficult to process a senior that you had regarded so highly had taken  interest in you in your lowly freshman year.

“Yeah, I know, right? I told him he was out of your league-”

“-Hey!”

“-But I said that out of jealousy. Heck, even I liked you at some point, Y/N. You’re quite a catch, just super oblivious.”

The reminder of your phone call with Jungkook consists of your disbelieving laughs and Jungkook’s reassurances that yes, that many people liked you in high school.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people interested in you. You just have to see it for yourself first.” Oddly prophetic for someone who claims he could survive solely off of energy drinks and barbecue chips, but considering he was studying at an Ivy League, he had to have some credibility. You end the phone call possibly more confused than you had been before the conversation. Swirling the contents of your cup absentmindedly, you realize you’ve drunk all of your hot cocoa. All that is left at the bottom of your cup are the clumps of cocoa powder that hadn’t been properly stirred. The dregs. Of course.

You relay your findings to Megan the next day over a lunch of poorly cooked rice and under seasoned chicken. “Food crafted by the gods to remind us of our inferiority,” as Megan liked to call it.

She claps her hands like a seal. “So I was right!” She cheers over a mouthful of food. “You need to get laid!”

You’re a bit too late to cover her mouth, her ambiguous words now out in the open for others nearby to hear and assume the wrong thing. Glancing around, you’re relieved to find that no one seemed to notice, save for one boy at a nearby table surrounded by some of his friends. He gives you a look but you refrain from making eye contact.

“I feel like you and I heard different stories just now.” You keep your voice down. “Meg, I just found out my high school crush - debatably, my first love - liked me at some point when I liked him. Do you know how big that is?”

“Do you know how big that isn’t?” Megan shoots back. “Because nothing came out of it. You never acted on your feelings. And something tells me that even if this John Cook-”

“-His name is Jungkook, but okay-”

“-Even if he had acted on his feelings, you would never believe it.” Ouch. She really went for your lack of self-esteem right there, and that shit hurted. Regardless, she’s right, and you both know it.

“You know when we say this, we’re not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do,” Megan clarifies. “I’m not saying you should get dicked down by the first guy who gives you attention, but wouldn’t it be nice to let someone - someone who genuinely cares for you - to let them into that dark and twisty mind of yours? God knows what’s going on up there.” She gestures to your forehead with her spoon.

Brushing aside Megan’s crude wording near the beginning, you’re at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, you mumble, “But there’s no one like that in my life. Other than you, that is.”

“Because you never let anyone close enough to truly know you. Just…” she pops another spoonful of rice into her mouth, “Just think about it.”

-- 

D-1 until your midterm. Nomenclature and ionic charges are now extremely familiar to you, having taken the spot from Megan as Number One Friend. And yet, you still haven’t successfully completed your flashcards.

Strong Acids. You suck in a deep breath, swerving in between groups of people as you make your way to the cafe. Walking quickly with your head down as the sure fire way of getting to any destination as quickly as possible. Okay Y/N, you got this… HCl, HBr, HI, HClO4… HNO3? You flip the card over and hiss. You were missing one more response. You truly hated it here.

The cafe is bustling with students on their laptops and scribbling away in notebooks, all likely studying for their respective exams. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans pervades the entirety of the interior, drawing you further inward until you’re standing at the cashier. 

“One tall vanilla latte, please.” You hand the girl behind the counter your money and stand aside to let the next person in line order. Once your order is called, you grab your drink - Ah, nothing like a fresh cup of capitalism to revitalize your motivation to study - and search for a place to sit. As if by the grace of God, someone leaves their seat at the barstools just as you turn around. Beautiful.

“Excuse me,” you tap the shoulder of one of the people next to the open seat. “Is this seat taken?” He shakes his head no, and you take that as your signal to sit.

You find yourself sandwiched between two young men, each immersed in their own studies. The one to your right, the one you had talked to briefly, appears to want no further interruptions, both earbuds in his ears. The one to your left never turned around to begin with, head down as he types away at his laptop. All you can make out are his broad shoulders in a brown leather jacket and a mop of strawberry blond hair. An interesting choice of hair color, but you weren’t one to judge. He’s nodding his head to some tune, and it’s only then you realize he has one earbud in. You wonder what kind of music a cute man like himself would listen to -

Get a hold of yourself, Y/N, you chastise yourself for showing sudden interest in a complete stranger. The day before your midterm at that - there was no space in your head for an unknown young man who was probably good looking, too - No! Focus. Flashcards. You fumble in your jacket pocket for your index cards.

Chemistry nomenclature, round fifty-six.

As you’re reviewing, you overhear the conversation proceeding next you with the cute guy and a girl. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The familiar words make you think of mere moments before when you were asking the same thing.

“It isn’t, but… you can’t sit there.”

Huh? 

“I’m sorry?” The girl seems to mirror your confusion.

“You can’t sit here. I’m sorry.”

“But someone else can?”

Your flashcards go ignored as you choose to eavesdrop on the full conversation. The man stalls, looking at the girl up and down. “... Yeah, maybe.”

Trying your best to not draw attention to yourself, you turn your head in slow, languid movements to look around. Was anyone else seeing this? Hearing this? Were you the next unsuspecting victim on an episode of What Would You Do? You were half expecting a game show host to step out and introduce himself at any moment. Y/N, you’ve just been Punk’d! 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, you couldn’t decide which scenario was better), no game show host steps out from behind a curtain, and it sinks in that this guy wasn’t joking. He was intent on not letting this girl sit next to him.

“Look,” the girl runs a hand through her hair, a habit of frustration, maybe. “I really need a place to sit and work on things, and this seat is open. That, and it’s a public space. So if you’ll excuse me-”

The young man easily lifts his backpack from his chair with one hand and places it in the open seat. “There. It’s taken now. Sorry.”

The girl’s eyes widen, and you can only imagine what your face looks like right now. You’re in just as much shock as she is. 

You scoff, and this time you don’t care if he hears. And he does: the stranger finally turns around in his seat to reveal an extremely attractive face. Chiseled jawline, deep brooding eyes, dimples even when he was scowling. You freeze and your breath hitches in your throat. It’s a shame he had to go and open his mouth.

“Excuse me,” you cut in sweetly, making a point to only make eye contact with the girl. “You can sit here. I’m about to leave.”

The girl’s eyes go wide at the addition of a third party. “Oh, no, you don’t have to! Thank you so much though.”

You shove your flashcards into your backpack and stand up from the seat. “No no, I insist, it’s fine. Besides, I didn’t want to sit there anymore.” Only then do you shoot a glare at the young man. “I couldn’t focus.”

Judging by the way the girl eyes the strawberry blond next to you, you think she doesn’t want to sit there anymore, either. Nevertheless, a seat was a seat. She thanks you profusely and you head out the doors and down the path to return to the dorms. 

Naturally your mind drifts back to the stranger. Who was he to have so much pride as to deny a seat to someone he didn’t know? A seat that wasn’t his, either? The thought that people like him exist irks you.

He was so good-looking, too, your subconscious proceeds to remind you. 

But alas, a jerk was a jerk, and at the end of the day you had far more important things to worry about than an indecent stranger whom you doubt you would see again. More important things such as -

Your phone rings with an alarm notifying you of your next scheduled event: Final Review B4 Exam! You sigh. Looks like it was back to the books (and flashcards) for you for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t hit you until you crash land into your desk chair: in your anger-fueled exit from the cafe, you had completely forgotten your barely touched vanilla latte sitting at the barstool counter. At this point you’re ready to tear your hair out at the roots. You’re five dollars and one fresh cup of caffeinated capitalism short for the night’s study session. You really hated it here.

If Megan were here, she would whip you into shape real fast, shouting at you that you’re a “Bad Bitch!” or some other expletive motivation that would comfort you. Except Megan isn’t here, attending some kind of club meeting, leaving you alone in the dorm. Another sigh escapes your lips and you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling. 

Maybe, just maybe, you needed to follow through on this whole “getting emotionally laid” thing.

--

The midterm you had so diligently studied for was a success. Inorganic Chemistry A5 didn’t know what was coming when you rolled up with your beloved flashcards - all successfully completed, mind you - ready to fight. Needless to say you were able to enter the weekend with no qualms. You now had much needed time to recuperate and as Megan had said before, to “take a break” (among other things you were not going to address anytime soon). 

Some students recovered from the trauma of frequent exams via partying, deciding it was better to be under the influence in order to get over their academic standing. Some would meet up with their friends, maybe gossip about the latest episode of the hottest reality TV show. In your case, you decide to binge watch as many k-dramas as humanly possible. While you preferably do so in the comfort of your bed, tonight Megan has taken authoritative control over the dorm room. Meaning, she had a psychology midterm the following Monday and needed to be able to focus on nothing but the role of the amygdala without the OST of whatever drama you were watching in the background. You know for a fact if you were in the room minding your own business Megan would ultimately get distracted and join you in your k-drama marathon. Thus you are thrown to the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back and your belongings stuffed into your backpack.

You take extra care to avoid the puddles forming on the sidewalks, the result of on and off rain throughout the day. There are noticeably less people outside, and you have a feeling that any building you choose to house yourself in will be quite the opposite, likely packed with students. 

After milling about campus for a few minutes, you finally settle down in the Student Community Center - a fancy name for yet another building on campus where students could lounge about and study slash socialize. As predicted, there are significantly more people crowded in the lobby area of the two-story building. Your boots squeak against the tiled floor as you make your way down an inconspicuous hallway. Tile turns to carpeting when you step into an almost empty study room. Only a handful of people are present in the room, scattered across the tables and couches. No one ever bothered to check the rooms at the very ends of the hallways - only those more dedicated to being unbothered ever made it that far - and you were grateful for this as you settled down at one of the open couches.

Hotel Del Luna is the show of choice for the evening, and you cuddle up to the armrest of the couch as you press Play. You had watched this one before, having been forced to do so with Jungkook at its release. Curse him and his admiration for IU - some of the ghost scenes kept you up at night the weeks after watching. You much preferred the more lighthearted slice-of-life k-dramas, but following your phone call with Jungkook you were drawn to the darker show. Call it nostalgia, call it an attempt to relive the happy memories of the past, call it denial of reality, whatever.

You’re two hours into your binge watch when you notice an unfamiliar presence at your side. A boy, and a breathtaking one at that. When he had joined you, you’re not sure, but you catch him glancing at your laptop screen every so often. He doesn’t stick out too much, black hair hidden beneath a black baseball cap and similarly monotone attire with a black hoodie that was definitely way too big for him. Yet no amount of nondescript clothing could cover up his impeccable bone structure. This man had a jawline and a nose bridge that were to die for, and although you haven’t made eye contact with the stranger you’re already feeling self-conscious. There’s no way in hell you’re initiating any sort of interaction with him.

But there’s no need to worry, because the stranger does it for you.

You’re on episode three when there’s a gasp from beside you. “Lee Jun-Ki!” You crane your neck to see the stranger leaning over to watch your laptop screen. The work in front of him - whatever that mess of hieroglyphs and symbols was - is completely forgotten as he scoots closer. 

It’s not until you lean a bit away from him that he realizes his actions. “Oh, sorry. I kinda needed a break from studying or else I was gonna lose it.” His ears turn a bright pink as he explains himself. “Is it okay if I watch with you?”

“Uh…” Now that your full attention is on him, you give the stranger a proper glance-over. He was indeed studying, some sort of language of shapes and numbers that was foreign to you sprawled across his notebook in a variety of colors. Other than the all black attire (which was reasonable for college - wasn’t everyone attending their own funeral during exams season?), he didn’t look too shady… “Sure.”

“Sweet.” He extends a hand to you, pulling back the ginormous sleeve that threatens to hang over his fingers. “My name’s Jungwoo.”

You tentatively take his hand. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you a first year?”

You nod your head, and Jungwoo smiles. “Cool. Me too.” He moves back to his side of the couch, but quickly scoots back to sit directly beside you after he has shoved all of his work into his backpack. He settles beside you on the couch, slouching down similarly to you. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You crack a smile at the boy’s unabashed boldness. He immerses himself in the episode alongside you, clear adoration in his eyes whenever IU makes an appearance on screen. “You like IU, I take it?”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “Not half as much as one of my friends. He idolizes her. I just... look at her very respectfully.”

“Me too, actually,” you confess. “My friend forced me to watch with him. I usually watch happier things. My favorite is Weightlifting Fairy.”

Jungwoo’s eyes go wide. “I love Weightlifting Fairy!” His theatrical gasp attracts the attention of the few students nearby. This newfound information seems to make something click in Jungwoo’s head, because he wiggles all the more closer to you. “You’re quickly becoming my best friend, Y/N.”

“I’m a friend?” 

“Duh. This was established when you didn’t run away from me in fear when I was quite literally looking over your shoulder. And that’s happened before with other people. Twice.” He seems to feel the need to add in the last few details, much to your amusement. “Now shush. Lemme admire IU in peace.”

--

That interaction with Jungwoo is only the first of many, many more. While you’re the type to keep to yourself and not approach others, Jungwoo was the opposite. You’re only a bit surprised when he yells out your name from across the street a few days later, sprinting towards you with unbridled excitement on his face. The last time someone was that happy to see you was when your dog greeted you after returning home for the holidays.

“Good morning, Y/N! Where you headed? I have Material Sciences in an hour. I got time, so I’ll walk with you wherever you’re going!”

Much like your first encounter, you agree with some hesitance. Jungwoo seemed to not have a bad bone in his body, no ill intentions whatsoever. It was refreshing to be in the presence of someone who wasn’t already jaded by the world. 

As promised, Jungwoo walks with you to your destination, the coffeeshop, even waiting with you in the insufferably long line. You find out that Jungwoo is the same age as you, a Mechanical Engineering major, and is a part of some sort of club that allowed him to connect with upperclassmen of different majors but with similar interests.

“It’s called Nu Kappa Tau, everyone there’s really nice! I’ll bring you with me to the next social event.”

“Nu Kappa Tau?” You test out the syllables on your tongue. “Greek? Are you in... a fraternity?”

Your tone of voice insinuates something bad, and the way Jungwoo reacts quickly tells you he has a similar stance on the Greek life in college. That similar stance being that frat boys were vermin. “No, no no no no. It’s Greek, yes, but we are definitely not a fraternity. It’s more like… a social, cultural, and academic club?”

“Jungwoo. That’s exactly what a fraternity would say to make it seem like it’s not a fraternity.”

“Okay, but in this case we’re actually not a fraternity, I promise.” He tugs on your shirt sleeve and looks at you with pleading eyes. “You should come with me to the next event. It’ll be fun, and I’ll prove to you it’s not a fraternity. Please?”

You remain silent, eyes turning to the coffeshop’s menu. Even when your gaze is somewhere else you can sense the way Jungwoo is staring you down with those puppy dog eyes of his. This was what, the second time you were talking to him, and already he wanted to go to a social event with you? “I don’t know. You’re nice and all, but I’m not the type to warm up to people easily. I’ll have to hang out with you more first. No offense.”

Most people cower at your denials, retreat to more comfortable territory where there’s no fear of rejection. Jungwoo, however, beams at you. “None taken, Miss Y/N. You know why?” He pauses for dramatic effect, quirking an eyebrow in mischief. “Because that wasn’t a no.”

A few people in line crane their necks to peer at the two of you as a resonant smack rings out in the coffeeshop. 

“Ow - Y/N - Ow!” Jungwoo rubs at his upper arm. You know you didn’t hit him hard enough to elicit this sort of dramatic reaction, but it’s what he deserves. 

“You can’t use that logic, Jungwoo,” you scold, bag poised in the air ready for another attack. “The only means of consent is a yes. Say it with me. The only means of consent is a-”

“-Yes, yes, okay! I got it, I’m sorry. I sincerely apologize.”

--

Fast forward two weeks later, and you know Jungwoo a bit too well for your liking. Following your rejection of his offer, Jungwoo goes ahead and makes it a point to see you for at least an hour a day, weekends included, in order for you to “warm up to him.” Some days, it’s lunch shared in the cafeteria between classes. Other days it’s hours upon hours of studying together in the back of the library, you and Jungwoo taking shifts napping while the other crams for their classes. 

He forces - “heavily insists” - you to share your location with him on your phones, so it’s of no surprise to you when he starts showing up outside of your lecture halls after class. It’s when he’s walking you back from your last class of the day that you find that he lives a floor above you in the same building. Of course.

Dare you say it, it’s easy having Jungwoo in your life. He walks with you everywhere, always initiates conversation, and eats as many meals as possible with you - or as many as Megan allows. 

“Hey Y/N,” your roommate greets you with a warm smile which quickly turns into a steely glare when he acknowledges the young man standing by your side. “Ahem. Jungwoo.” 

If Jungwoo was a legitimate candidate for your mission of “getting laid,” Megan would be ecstatic. However, you explain to her that Jungwoo is nothing more than a friend, and suddenly Megan thinks he’s out to take her spot as Y/N’s Best Friend (insert trademark emoji here). 

“Megan, always a pleasure,” Jungwoo croons. If he’s perturbed by your roommate’s aloof greeting, he doesn’t show it, a smile growing on his face. Jungwoo turns to you. “See you at nine?”

You nod. “See you at nine. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jungwoo waves then walks down the hallway to the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight to turn back to Megan, who has one eyebrow raised.

“What’s going on at nine?” She questions.

A defeated grin makes its way onto your lips. As much as you had been dreading what was to come, you couldn’t deny the excitement building up within you at the thought of something… new, for once in your life. “I’m going to my first party.”

--

Jungwoo, as promised, picks you up from your dorm room later that evening. He texts you an ominous message of i’m outside ur dorm lol for you to find him in the driver’s seat of a car far too expensive for any broke college student to own.

Hesitantly, you hop into the passenger seat and gingerly close the door. You’re not sure who he borrowed this from - or maybe it was a rental? - but you wanted to make sure you took no part in any damage fees he’d pay later. “I thought first years couldn’t have cars on campus.”

“I know. I’m a rule breaker, Y/N. I can’t be stopped… And maybe I borrowed it from a friend.”

Jungwoo insists on manning the aux, which you oblige to as you don’t trust your music taste to be liked by others. Something about the artist name Sergio Rachmaninov didn’t always hit well with the young folk these days. The queue starts up as he pulls out of the parking lot, a bass-boosted R&B song filling the expanse of the lush interior. 

“I’m going to warn you, this music queue is all over the place.” All over the place is correct, because after the R&B song finishes a ballad comes on, followed promptly by the song “Good Time” by Owl City. It’s a good song, a tolerable one, but after the second run, and third run, and even a fourth run you can’t help but wonder if the queue is glitching.

“Jungwoo.” He grunts in response. “Did you mean to put this song on loop?”

He shrugs. “What can I say? It helps me focus.”

You’re really questioning the sanity of the man behind the wheel.

Four and a half plays of “Good Time” (or fifteen minutes) later, you and Jungwoo arrive at your destination.

You audibly gulp. “Jungwoo. You are so in a frat.”

“No I’m not!” The man whines. “I swear!”

You and Jungwoo must not be looking at the same house, because the one you’re looking at is nothing less than a mansion: two stories, covering a wide expanse of vivid green lawn, with pillars on either side of the double-door front entry. Windows line the top and bottom floors, and hedges line the cobblestone walkway in the front. It looks like something out of a Southern period drama with the Victorian, colonial style architecture.

“You sure?” You can’t break your gaze away from the three enormous Greek letters placed above the entryway. “‘Cause no normal house emblazons the symbols of their group name across the front like that.”

As soon as you step foot in the door, you regret your decision to come. “Kim, I think I left something in the car-” 

You’re rudely interrupted by Jungwoo swinging an arm over your shoulder a bit too harshly. 

“Relax,” he reassures you. “My friends don’t bite. Only I do that.” You’re given no time to question that statement before he leads you further into the house.

If there’s one thing you can count on with Jungwoo, it’s his ability to socialize. It seems he knows everyone in the house, proven to you by the way he either nods his head or does a handshake with every individual present. He leads you to the kitchen where two guys are conversing, one looking like an overgrown man child and the other looking like… well, an actual child.

“Hey, look who finally decided to show up,” the much taller boy croons. “And he brought a friend.”

“Johnny, this is Y/N. Y/N, Johnny. He’s in his fourth year.” You shake hands with Johnny, who grins at you. He seems nice, other than the fact that he continues to stare at you through the duration of the handshake. Perplexed, you refuse to break his gaze.

Johnny is the first to look away, turning immediately to Jungwoo. “Oh, I like her. No one has yet to win my staring contest this year, other than you, Y/N. Congratulations.”

You force a laugh. “Thanks?”

Jungwoo steers you to the second boy, this one noticeably shorter - or was he still tall? Anyone standing next to Johnny seemed to be dwarfed in his presence - with dyed blond hair. He has a cap over his head and circle glasses, and you can’t help but think he looks awfully young to be at a frat-but-not-really house party.

“And this is Mark. He’s a fellow first year, but he’s our baby.” Jungwoo coos the last word, making Mark huff. Lowering his voice to a stage whisper, Jungwoo explains, “He was born in 1999, so we have a good year on him.”

You click your tongue. Ah, that explains why he looks so young. You deem Mark to be far more approachable than Johnny and shake the young boy’s hand eagerly.

“Where’s Peaches?” Jungwoo asks Johnny. The older boy shrugs. 

“I dunno. Not my problem.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jaehyun’s coming,” Mark cuts in. “Texted me saying something came up. Something about a paper due. Wait. Didn’t you take his car?” He points to Jungwoo, who shrugs with a look of Whoops, sorry on his face.

Johnny groans. “Oh, shoot. That’s right. We have a paper due tomorrow morning.” As quickly as the realization hits him, the worry is gone. “Eh. It’ll be fine.”

The three boys converse a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries and whatnot, before you and Jungwoo make your departure. The most that comes out of your mouth are feeble courtesy laughs and the occasional sarcastic quip to keep Jungwoo’s chaotic energy at bay. You wait until Jungwoo’s led you away to voice your thoughts. “What kind of name is Peaches?” You repeat.

“Right. One of the upperclassmen got the nickname because he smelled like them his first day of recruitment. Apparently he lives near a peach tree orchard or something. Therefore, he’s Peach Boy.”

You make a mental note of the phrase recruitment your friend uses. One day, you’ll compile a long enough list of evidence proving Nu Kappa Tau was a frat, and the word recruitment was one of them. “So what’s your nickname then?”

“Me? I’m not technically initiated yet,” - did this man use the word initiated? Yet another piece of evidence for the fraternity agenda - “but if I had to choose…” Jungwoo pauses and drums his fingers against his chin. “I’m Cheese Boy.”

You pause, letting his name sink in. The laughter bubbles up within you, threatening to spill out in a snort. It instead comes out as a strong exhale through your nose.

“Whatever, Cheese Boy,” you tease. “How much longer until I can go home?”

--

The next time you see the boys of Nu Kappa Tau is when Jungwoo drags you to yet another one of their events but a few days later. “This one’s right up your alley,” he insists. He also bribes you with the promise of buying your lunch, and the kabob food truck was on campus today, meaning you were eating well this afternoon. Making an appearance at his frat was but a small price to pay for your beloved meal of choice.

Jungwoo’s right - this event is up your alley, because you recognize the route he takes across campus. “The library?”

He nods. “NKT Study Hall.”

As you enter the building Jungwoo pulls you down an unfamiliar corridor then up a flight of stairs. An unspoken farewell is bid to your usual study spot by the second floor window as you continue up, up, up, until finally stopping at the fifth floor where no more stairs remain. You didn’t realize the library went up that high, and you probably frequented the building more than all of the boys combined - not that you knew any of the Kappa Tau boys yet.

Though they do look extremely threatening now that you’re standing in front of them.

Jungwoo brings you to stand in front of him. “Men and Mark Lee-” (“Hey!” Mark complains,) “-I introduce to you my partner in crime, Y/N.”

You give a feeble smile to the young men surrounding the table. You recognize a few of them from the party, Johnny and Mark being the only ones you can put a name to. The two wave to you and you feel a little more welcomed. Aside from the duo, everyone else is unfamiliar, giving you emotionless head nods and scowls.

“Y/N, you know Johnny and Mark, over there’s Lucas, and that’s Sicheng.” You nod at the two of them, who seem nice enough. The latter actually gives you a soft smile, so you consider that a win in your book. “And over at that table is Doyoung, Ten… You know what? I’ll just introduce you to everyone later. Have a seat.”

You trust your friend to guide you to the safest open seat, directly across from another empty chair at one end of the long table. Immediately you pull out your biology notebook and pens, hunkering down and getting to work without further notice. If you couldn’t feel welcomed by the boys at the table, you could at least get some decent studying done. You felt far more familiar with the speciation concepts in front of you than the actual human beings next to you. You allow your head to burrow itself closer to your notebook, dwelling in this small comfort in an environment of unfamiliarities.

The moment of peace doesn’t last long.

“Peaches!” Johnny’s bellowing voice makes you jump in your seat, your beloved biology notes neglected.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” Huh. You’ve heard that voice before. You can’t place where you know it from, but it causes a sneer to form on your face. Glancing up from your notes you can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves your lips.

It’s him. You’d recognize that faded pink hair and smugly complacent upturn of lips anywhere. That, and he’s holding a coffee cup that violently catapults you back to the incident from a few weeks ago in the coffee shop. You left your perfectly good vanilla latte behind because he made you mad, that jerk.

“Oh, Jaehyun.” Jungwoo leads the man to the open seat across from you. Pointing to you, he says, “This is Peaches - I mean, Jaehyun. Jaehyun, this is-”

“-Y/N, right?” Jaehyun interrupts with a grin. You lower your eyes at the dimple that forms when he smiles. “I believe we’ve met before.”

Jungwoo looks from your displeased state to Jaehyun’s smug smirk. “Uh, okay. Cool. Well then. I’m gonna go ahead and grab lunch, I’ll be right back.” You watch as Jungwoo beckons Johnny and Mark to join him, the only three familiar faces present at the table now leaving.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms moving to rest behind his head. “Looks like it’s just the two of us.”

You weigh your options. You could recognize that the two of you have indeed met before, and try to get past your differences. Or, you could refuse to acknowledge Jaehyun’s presence a mere few feet across from you at the table and try your best to study until Jungwoo returned with your food, at which point you would then flee the scene as fast as your non-athlete self could. Only one of these outcomes enticed you, and it wasn’t the one that involved talking. 

“So, Y/N,” Jaehyun leans forward. The width of the table is enough to keep him at a safe distance from you, yet he’s still close enough to invade your personal space somehow. It’s suffocating, how whatever musky cologne he’s wearing wafts over to you - he smells nothing like peaches. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine.” You keep your eyes glued to your biology notes. Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species become isolated from one another due to-

“Aw, just fine? That’s it?” His voice is low. With Jungwoo, Johnny, and Mark out getting food, you’ve been isolated at one end of the table with Jaehyun. Lucas and Sicheng are present as well, but both seem to be deeply immersed in their own studies. It’s just the two of you.

“Yep.” Allopatric Speciation occurs when two populations of the same species-

“C’mon, I’m sure someone like you has had at least one interesting thing happen today.”

Allopatric Speciation occurs when - Someone like you? What was that supposed to mean? You sigh, but refuse to look up from your notes. Allopatric Speciation-

“Are you a first year? I took that class last year. If you ever want notes or something-” Jaehyun jumps a little when you slam the notebook shut. Good. Serves him right.

“I don’t like you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the end of his lips. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

He leans in by resting his forearms on the table, leveling his gaze with yours. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re distracting me.”

Jungwoo comes back at the most opportune time, wielding a kabob skewer in each hand - one untouched and the other halfway eaten. “One chicken kabob for Y/N.”

Deeming the conversation with Jaehyun at its end, you stand up from your seat and grab your backpack from the table. Jaehyun fixes you with an intense gaze but remains silent. Whether he was sizing you up or not you didn’t care.

The tension is palpable at the table, and Jungwoo clears his throat. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” you respond quickly. Grabbing your food from Jungwoo, you give him an apologetic smile. “Something came up. I gotta go. Sorry, Kim. See you tomorrow?”

You despise this man. You don’t even know Jaehyun - he is nothing but a familiar stranger - but you despise him. Him and his ethereal appearance. Why were the terrible ones always the ones blessed with above average looks? Why’d he have to open his mouth?

“Wait.” You do not, in fact, wait, but instead continue marching forward. It’s not until the figure stands right in front of you do you stop. It’s Jaehyun. Holding your biology notebook in the air. “Don’t want to leave anything behind. Like last time, right?”

The last few words out of his mouth have your blood boiling and your fists clenching at your sides. That explained the foreign lightness of the bag on your shoulder.

“Oh, right, the vanilla latte.” You fake a cordial laugh. “You mean the time I was so desperate to get away from your insufferable presence that I left behind a perfectly good coffee? The time when you treated that girl as if she wasn’t a human being? That time you couldn’t be a decent enough human being that you were that disrespectful to someone you didn’t even know?” 

Jaehyun stands before you with an astonished smile and a hand frozen in the air. You pluck the notebook out of his grasp and stride away before he has a chance to respond.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Jaehyun calls.

“I’ll see you around my ass,” you mutter under your breath. You’re willing to go out of your way to avoid interactions with Jaehyun, no matter what it takes.

a/n 2: hope you enjoyed part one of this series! it’s been a while since i last posted a fic on here so i apologize for my rusty writing skills. part 2 is projected to be posted in one week from now, but that’s tentative. we’ll see where life takes me and if i have the capacity to post in a week from now. in the meantime: stay safe! 💕

#cznnet #jung jaehyun fic #jung jaehyun nct #jung jaehyun scenarios #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fic #jaehyun nct #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun #nct fluff #nct fic #nct scenarios

[ibelongtowrath]

Come Find Me - Mammon x Reader

reuploading cause of tags lol let’s hope they work this time, also sorry i forgot to put the “read more” oop

Tags/Warnings: angst, lots of angst & mild cursing Word Count: 3.9k Notes: I tried switching perspectives, which are indicated by the dashed lines. I hope it doesn't make it too confusing! I was listening to “Give You Up” by Asking Alexandria, like really listening to the lyrics when I was smacked in the face struck by inspiration for some angsty Mammon. So, as I do, I dreamed up a scenario. This took me so long to write, and holy crap. Hope you love it!

Lyrics taken from 'Give You Up' by Asking Alexandria. 

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11 months later.

“I wasted so much time on wasting time Made a million excuses, told myself I'm above it Now there's symphony where there used to be Nothing but silence, and I'm never gonna give you up”

Pulling open the closet door to find that one shirt you remember buying, but can’t for the life of you remember where it is, you wince. Clothes and shoes are strewn everywhere, organization severely neglected as of late. You hadn’t really been inspired to straighten out your mess, not since--

No. You shake your head, suppressing the memories. Not now, not for a long time...until it stops feeling like a hot knife is carving your heart in half whenever his name flashes across your mind.

Your eyes scan and assess the mess, landing on a black duffel bag shoved into the corner, emblazoned with an all-too-familiar gold badge. Your eyes close briefly, letting the familiar icy pain wash over you, as if you’ve been walking into the winter ocean until your entire body is submerged. You stare at the bag until your vision blurs, surprised to find yourself blinking away tears as you come back to reality.

You told yourself you wouldn’t leave the Devildom with any regrets, but you did.

“Okay. Well. We’re just going to deal with this now, and bury it,” you tell yourself, needing to hear yourself say it out loud as your own affirmation.

It was finally time to face the anguish head on, instead of compartmentalizing it, telling yourself you would process it eventually. Picking up the bag, you slowly back out of the closet, a torrent of emotions beginning to well up inside you, threatening to wreak havoc. You close your eyes. Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Step back, and lean against the wall, subdue the onslaught.

Tossing the bag onto your bed, you sit beside it, hand reaching slowly to grasp the zipper. Once undone, you reach inside and pull out your R.A.D uniform, skimming the small buttons embedded in the stitching. You smile softly as you remember Asmo pouting every time you complained about how ill-fitting it was. Your hand moves to the golden R.A.D. medallion, your fingers dancing over the hard, intricately grooved surface.

Folding the uniform and setting it aside, you reach into the bag once more, fingers brushing something hard and flat. Confused, you lift your hand, finding yourself grasping your D.D.D.. Your eyes study the yellow smart phone, remembering how he insisted...Fuck. The memories begin to crash into the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, Lucifer, ya gotta give her a yellow one! She’s gotta match with me! N-not that it’s all that important or anything...” Mammon blushed, looking down towards the floor.

“I-I just think...yellow’s a good color to have. That’s all. Symbolizes a lot ‘a different good things. Luck, lotsa Grimm...thank me later.”

You didn’t know it at the time, but that was the start of your undoing.

You came to the Devildom harboring resentment. Why the hell did you have to get uprooted from your life to serve someone else’s agenda? And not only that, but you had to live with seven fallen demon brothers, many of whom barely hesitated as they considered killing you. But...then there was Mammon.

It was always him, even when you refused to acknowledge it. The first demon you made a pact with. You slide your shirt down your arm, glancing at your now-bare shoulder, remembering the slight jolt of electricity as the sigil was emblazoned into your skin. You smile softly as you remember his persistent boasting, nearly on a daily basis:

“I’m Y/N’s first man! So get your paws off her!”

Mammon. Always so stand-offish about his feelings, but so were you. That resentment you bore dug deep into your core. Your heart was indifferent. You challenged Lucifer and the other demons without inhibition, consistently getting yourself nearly killed. You disobeyed the rules and expectations designated to you as one of the representatives of the human world. You did it all with no qualms about the potential consequences, even if it could have resulted in your death. You had given up. You didn’t give a fuck anymore, so bring it on.

They all gave a fuck about you, though, even if it was mostly because Lord Diavolo forbade the killing of the human students. But Mammon…

It was more than that for him. He grabbed your hand in the face of danger, thinking he could protect you. Despite his constant denial of how he felt for you, you could see it. Not only that, your feelings mirrored his; but you were so stubborn, you were headstrong. You were not going to let yourself fall, especially not for the Avatar of Greed. You had convinced yourself that he would be a selfish lover, always putting himself first. All he would do is take from you. After all, the demon was in love with his goddamn credit card.

You were so wrong.

Turning the phone over and over in your hands aimlessly, you remember it all. How easy it was for you to keep falling back into the darkness within you, the anger and resentment you bore deep in your heart. It was easy, it was familiar. Until...

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

Mammon remembers that night. He’s replayed so many times in his head, there isn’t a single detail he can’t remember.

As usual, his brothers teased him relentlessly; this time, they had gone too far.

“Oh! Y/N, I dropped my fork by your foot, would you mind being a dear and grabbing it for me?” Asmo asked, innocently enough.

Mammon had looked up upon hearing your name. He watched as you bent down and struggled to pick up the dropped fork, too far away to grab from your seat. His gaze remained on you as you stood, bending behind you to pick it up; then, Asmo lifting his hand to give you a playful slap on the ass. Then back to you, your beautiful lips upturned in a playful, flirty smile as you laughed and handed Asmo the fork.

Mammon’s anger blazed, his vision tinged red. It was like a knee-jerk reaction, the movements required no thought. He stood from his chair, nearly kicking it in, half-eaten plate of food abandoned. Wordlessly, he took his leave, the torrent of emotions welled up inside threatening to erupt. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to react, that it was only going to add more fuel to the fire for their teasing.

But he didn’t care. They took it too far, touching his human like that. He had laid his claim for you thousands of times, spelled it out, and everyone knew. Yet, it didn’t stop them. Mammon was forever the brother ridiculed and mocked most, despite being the second-oldest; his brothers’ contempt for him was never-ending. The constant jeers and derision about himself and his sin, he had put up with for millennia; but their taunting and blatant disregard of his feelings for you?

He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Mammon was on autopilot, barely feeling the movements as he walked swiftly throughout the halls of the House of Lamentation. He doesn’t even recall if he took a single breath on his journey back to his bedroom. He gripped the doorknob of his room, knuckles turning white as he nearly ripped it out while turning it. He stepped inside, slamming the door with a residual bang!, so loud that surely even Lord Diavolo could hear it in his castle.

His feet moved him to his bed, where he sat on the edge, head in his hands. He clenched his jaw, hard, in an attempt to subdue the anger pulsing within him. It wasn’t only anger, however, that was welled up inside. There was humiliation, resentment, and feelings of hopelessness; all directed at himself. Mammon clenched harder, hands beginning to shake as the emotions swelled furiously.

No matter what he did, he felt like he failed. He felt an overwhelming desire to protect what was his, and he had even failed at that. Mammon isn’t sure how long he stayed that way, caught in the middle of the emotional thunderstorm, staring at his hands but not actually seeing.

In his trance, he barely heard the knock on his door; three light taps, then one loud one. Your signature knock. It didn’t even register in his mind. He wishes he looked up to see you when you walked across his room to his bed. He only noticed when you grabbed his arm, gently, in that way your touch always was. He lifted his head slowly, the feelings of hopelessness finally starting to ebb when his melancholy gaze met your serene one.

There you stood, in all your beautiful glory. Your hair hung in glossy rivulets down your back, a stray piece hanging in front of your face; Mammon wanted nothing more than to reach up and tuck it behind your ear. Your face, your beautiful face, wore an expression that simultaneously made his heart race and feel peaceful.

“Mammon.”

You spoke his name, and in those two syllables, and he knew. He knew your soul shined so brightly in the darkness of the Devildom. He knew you were the light to all of his darkness within.

He knew he was irrevocably in love with you.

Mammon felt your grip tighten on his arm, ever so slightly. He stood before you, realizing your close proximity, and immediately felt the heat rush to his cheeks, tinting them with a rosy blush.

“Y-yeah? What do ya want, Y/N?” he asked, looking off to the side. He reached his arm up, rubbing the back of his head. “Sheesh, you didn’t even tell me you were comin’. A little advanced notice would be nice, ya know.”

You didn’t even answer. Before he could react, you had pulled Mammon into a hug, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Wha-?!” Mammon yelped. “Just what do you think you’re doin’, human?!”

He recoiled at first, arms hanging down at his sides, unfamiliar with the feeling of such affection...such love. Rarely was he ever shown such things, especially from his brothers. He hesitantly reached his arms up, wrapping them around your body, the soft texture of your hair under his fingers.

He leaned his head down, his cheek resting on the top of your head while he stroked your hair.

And then, you said it. You spoke the words that made him come undone completely.

“I love you, Mammon.”

Mammon’s body stilled for a moment. It felt as though his heart had stopped completely. The words caught in his throat, unable to speak, fingers threaded into your hair. He felt you squeeze him harder, turning your head to look up at him. His eyes met yours.

You had come here to the Devildom, and at first, Mammon was indifferent. He would have gladly sold your possessions for some extra cash with no hesitation. He insulted you, he acted like an arrogant fool. You did risky things, you talked back. And yet, you somehow were able to make your way into his ice-cold, tsundere heart.

He sunk back down to the edge of the bed, pulling you towards him. You sat upon his lap, legs on either side of his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush to him, fingers splayed across your back. He pushed your hair to the side, burying his head into your neck, lips against your soft skin. All he wanted in that moment was to breathe you in. He swallowed, pressing a kiss into your neck, hoping, praying that you wouldn’t react negatively.

It’s hard to remember the exact sequence that followed. The only thing Mammon knows is your lips pressed against his in a deep kiss, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. He pulled away, grinning, then kissed you again, and again, and again, his hands roaming under your shirt, across your back.

“Shit, Y/N. I guess you have me feeling some type-a way, too,” he whispered, kissing and biting the delicate skin of your neck, an overwhelming desire to leave his mark on you.

It hadn’t gone any further that night, and Mammon had been okay with it. He had walked you back to your room, grabbing you and kissing you deeply before you went in. He was sure the grin hadn’t left his face the entire rest of the night.

It was essentially the way you and Mammon had spent your final weeks in the Devildom. Stolen kisses here and there. Grabbing your hand in the hallways of R.A.D., lacing his fingers through yours. Spending the entire night together, not sleeping, watching movies on his projector or him teaching you how to play poker. Buying you little gifts using Goldie, much to Lucifer’s chagrin. He wanted to give you all that he could, to provide for you.

He held you close whenever he got the opportunity, stroking your hair, ingraining every feeling of your touch into his memory so he would never forget. He knew he was running out of time to be yours, to give you all of him. Mammon had never been so happy.

Then, that fateful day arrived. The day you were going back to the human world.

Mammon could hardly look at you when the time came, too afraid his emotions would well to the surface and tip over. He finally lifted his gaze to yours, thousands of unspoken words etched into the space between you, visible only to you and he. You had never spoken of a plan for the future, too painful to think about. He regretted all the time wasted, kicking himself for not telling you his feelings sooner.

Maybe then, you wouldn’t have left at all.

Mammon didn’t embrace you before the ceremony to transport you back began, knowing that once he did, he would never be able to let you go. He watched the light flash, as bright as your beautiful soul, taking you away with it, leaving nothing in its wake. The pain of losing you was like a knife plunged deep into his heart, twisting back and forth.

And then, you were gone.

Gone.

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

Gone.

And then, Mammon was gone.

“Mammon.”

You speak his name out loud, for the first time since you had arrived back. You still for a second, the unfamiliar syllables passing over your lips. You hope he’ll appear suddenly, as if summoned. But of course, he doesn’t.

And he never will, not again.

The tears fall freely now, a gut-wrenching sob wracking your body. The anguish crashes over you as all the emotions and pent-up grief finally break through the dam you had built deep inside. You fall to the side of your bed, gripping the D.D.D. tightly, knuckles turning white from the effort, as if the phone holds the power to bring Mammon back to you.

You’re unsure of how much time passes before the tears finally begin to subside, opening your eyes once more, adjusting to the sudden brightness; the feeling of it unwelcome, as you had learned to cherish the dark in the Devildom. The false sense of comforting dark you felt when you closed your eyes was erased each morning with the unrelenting rise of the sun.

You lift your hand, the yellow phone still gripped tightly within. And in a moment of hopefulness, or desperation (perhaps both), you press a button, gasping as the phone lights up. Though you shouldn’t be surprised; you remember Mammon telling you he put a spell on it so that it would hold a charge long after you took it off the charger, essentially always staying on.

So you could talk to him whenever you needed it.

Fingers moving faster than your brain can compute, you open your messages with Mammon, feeling the knife twist in your gut once more as you scroll through them. You shake your head furiously, willing yourself to stop, and focus. Your fingers dance across the digital keyboard as you compose a new message.

I love you, Mammon. Come find me.

Send. You hear the all-too-familiar whoosh sound of the message sending, watching it pop up onto the screen.You stare at the phone for God knows how long, willing a notification to sound off, unsure of why you’re feeling so hopeful.

The reply never comes.

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

Mammon stares at his phone in disbelief. He reads the message, then stands, beginning to pace around the room. He has to be seeing things. He has to be. He’s convinced.

There is no way he just received a message from you, in the human world. Especially not one telling him that you love him and to come find you.

His fingers fly across the screen, furiously typing a reply to you, pressing send.

Error! Retry?

“What?!” Mammon exclaims, pressing “retry” over and over and over again.

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

Error! Retry?

“This piece ‘a junk!” he yells, furious. The feeling of anguish washes over him as he realizes you won’t get a reply from him, picturing you sad yet hopeful, staring at your screen. He finds himself leaving his room, legs moving automatically as they bring him to the large double doors of the last place he ever wants to be.

“Oi! Lucifer! Open up right now! It’s an emergency!” Mammon yells, pounding on the door.

Hearing an exasperated sigh on the other side of the doors, Mammon continues to pound relentlessly.

“Lucifer! Open up-” Mammon’s words are cut off as Lucifer opens the door, a pained expression on his face.

“How can I help you, Mammon?” Lucifer asks, oozing contempt.

Mammon storms past him into the office, beginning to open up drawers, sorting through files of papers.

“Lucifer! Where the heck’s Y/N’s info? I need it. Where is it?!”

“Mammon,” Lucifer replies cooly, “what is this all about?”

“It’s Y/N! She texted me! She texted me from the human world. Can ya believe it?! She told me to come find her. I have to go to her, Lucifer, I have to!”

“Mammon, calm down. Explain everything to me.”

Mammon shoves the phone in Lucifer’s face, panic etched into his voice as he recounts the story, impatience creeping in to his demeanor. He has to get to you, and he has to get to you now.

Lucifer nods, holding his gloved hand under his chin as he thinks aloud.

“Mammon, you will have to be patient. I will speak to Diavolo, and see if he will grant you permission to leave the Devildom for a few days. Unfortunately, we do not have an exact location for Y/N. I can only give you the general area of where she lives. You will have to hope that she has remained living there, or close to the area.”

“What?! What are ya tryin’ to say, that I won’t be able to find her?!” Mammon yells in disbelief. “Of course I’ll find her. She told me to! And I can’t wait, I gotta get to her now! I can’t text her back, can’t let her know I got it…”

“I know how important she is to you, Mammon,” Lucifer says, nodding his head.

“Like hell ya do! Have you ever loved anyone that much? Or anything?”

“Mammon. I will speak to Diavolo immediately, and he will set everything in motion. It is still likely you will have to wait until at least tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning…,” Mammon repeats, trailing off. “Y/N, I’m comin’ to ya. Just hang on one more day. Please, babe…”

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

You find yourself at your favorite mall the next day, hardly remembering the drive there, as if you were on autopilot.

As you enter, you stand still for a moment, closing your eyes and inhaling briefly, taking in the sounds: the tinny music filtering through the speakers, other shoppers exclaiming to one another over a new collection in a store, somebody sipping their iced coffee noisily.

You had told Mammon about coming here quite often during those last few weeks. One night in particular, the two of you had lain on his bed, holding one another close, telling each other everything. You hadn’t cared if it was trivial, you wanted to know everything there was to know. Often, you had imagined coming with him here; holding hands, dragging him into all your favorite stores, trying on clothes.

Now, that will never happen.

You shake the negative thought from your mind, fighting as you feel the corners of your lips begin to tug downwards. Turning yourself to the right, you decide to head to your favorite bubble tea stand, smiling softly to yourself. Another memory you had shared with Mammon. Rounding the corner, a figure hunched over on the soft bench near the bubble tea stand stops you dead in your tracks.

Tousled white hair, orange-tinted lenses in his glasses. A brown leather jacket, striped with white across and at the collar, a fitted black t-shirt underneath.

No. No way. Your mind is playing tricks on you, Y/N, you think to yourself.

You walk hesitantly up to him, stopping a few feet away, watching as he notices your shoes, then moves his head up to meet your gaze, that adorable lopsided grin tugging at his lips as he stands.

“Knew I’d find ya here, Y/N. Lucifer didn’t believe me, that jerk,” he drawls.

“M-...Mammon?!” you exclaim, not caring who hears. You barely feel the movements as you throw yourself into his embrace. “H-how?!”

“Ya told me to come find ya. So I found ya.”

Gripping the collar of his jacket tightly, you lay your head on his chest, tears streaming furiously down your face. Mammon lifts your head, cupping your cheeks, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, hey. No tears ruinin’ that pretty face. Unless they’re happy tears. In which case, cry away, I guess. But your makeups’ runnin’ down your face,” Mammon tells you, and you grin through them.

“How did you know to find me here?” you ask him as you pull away, brushing more tears away as you swallow.

“I remembered you tellin’ me about it. How you liked to come here when you weren’t feelin’ all that great,” he answers, draping an arm over your shoulder. “I tried to answer ya back, but my stupid D.D.D. wouldn’t let me. I thought ya might be sad, so I figured I’d try ya here.”

You laugh, grin growing wider.

“I love you, Mammon.”

He pulls you into another tight embrace, pressing you flush to him, lips crashing against yours in a deep kiss. You close your eyes, savoring every second of it before pulling away, eyes wide. You laugh once more as he pulls you close to him again, gasping a bit in surprise as his tongue darts out to dance with yours.

“Mammon, we’re in public!” you hiss, though you’re smiling against his lips.

“Don’t care,” Mammon retorts, kissing you again. “I have ya here with me now. And I ain’t ever gonna give you up. Never again.”

“In my darkest of days I've got a light now to show me the way It's like I've found my place And the world doesn't feel the same”

#obey me mammon #mammon obey me #obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me! mammon #obey me fanfic #obey me fandom #mammon avatar of greed #obey me swd #swd obey me #mammon #mammon swd #swd mammon

[freemanverse-casualcomp-au]

Cookies (?)

John trying to make cookies under Ross’ supervision. It goes very, very wrong. Someone please evacuate Ross from breaking down and dying please-

"Why the fuck you wanted to make cookies again?" John's eyebrows twitched upon hearing Ross' question, putting down their groceries on the top of their kitchen counter. Pulling out a box of instant cookies mix, the rattail-tied haired man paused for a moment to take a good look at the box and then to him, his usual grumpy face now had a hint of concern. "You better not burn the fucking kitchen like last time, I'm tired of eating outside and it's a waste of money."

He sharply nodded, eyes focusing at his laptop, its screen displaying a simple step-by-step to make cookies for amateurs using its instant mix.

He was determined to make these warm and sweet delicacies of Barney’s favourite kind; plain, dark brown sugar-infused cookies with chocolate chips sprinkled on the top of them. His long-time teammate’s birthday is tomorrow and he wanted to make the man proud of him for baking these bad boys, maybe even letting him help inside the kitchen.

(Looking at his captain’s inner flame lit up, Ross silently grabbed a fire extinguisher under the sink to the closest place he could grab on for safety measures.)

“Sheesh, can you not making that face?” He looked up from the screen, his green eyes meeting Ross’ unfriendly (not cold, just unfriendly) lighter ones. The ace frowned before he took a deep breath and passed the box to him. “Just check behind for additional ingredients. I’ll be helping if you break shit or something. I’ve preheated the oven so you couldn’t burn down this place again.”

(Looking out for his captain’s attempt to bake somehow made him nervous as hell. He decided to sit on a chair near the counter so he could immediately intervene if John screwed up on something.)

He gave another nod, his hand grabbed the box firmly and flipped it. He could see all of those needed steps and its wet ingredients. All he needed to do is to put a stick of softened butter and a large egg.

...softened butter?

He took a glance at the counter where Ross lastly put out all the groceries. Sure enough, a stick of butter and a carton of eggs were left there for easier usage. He grabbed the solid dairy product and squeezed it gently, his face slightly soured when he found out it’s still hard to touch.

How to soften a butter...maybe he could use-

“Cap, I know what you’re thinking right now from the look of your stupid face and no, you can’t use your damned crowbar to soften the fucking butter.”

John silently groaned upon hearing the ace’s blunt and harsh statement, but it’s true. Barney never let him in the kitchen when he saw John with his crowbar. It means that he needed an alternative to soften this thing up, but how?

(Ross saw how his captain trying to think other solutions to soften a single butter without using his favourite weapon and huffed in slight frustration. How is this so-called “FPS Expert” man also useless at normal things?)

“Use the fucking microwave, dumbass!” He could detect a bit of anger behind Ross’ statement as he pointed up above John’s head, at the top cabinet to be precise. “You grab a microwave-safe bowl from there and put the butter in there, then you put it into the microwave and use 500watt power for fifteen seconds. The butter will soften from the heat and you can use it for your stupid cookies.”

John didn’t want to admit it loudly, but Ross was being incredibly nice to him today.

He quickly did the things Ross had told him. Fortunately, Barney taught him how to use the microwave when he was still living together with his vice-captain, so that’s one thing he could do himself. As the result, he managed to get the butter softened and ready for use. He put the bowl on the counter and stared at it for a second before grinned widely and went over to his laptop screen for the steps.

(The sight of his captain grinning just for successfully soften a butter almost made him laugh out loud hysterically. Thankfully his common sense shook him out from that feeling before he explode from laughter. But really, he just noticed his captain is one simple normal man outside the gaming scenes.)

The first step; put all the ingredients into a bowl and mix until homogenous.

Huh, sounds simple enough.

He opened up the box and pulled out some packages containing the powdered mix and chocolate chips. With help from a pair of scissors, he cut the packages open and poured both of the contents into the bowl of softened butter. Finally, he grabbed an egg from the carton and tapped it on the counter’s rim, creating a small crack that he then used to easily cracked it open into the bowl without any mess.

He took a quick glance at Ross, eyes pleading for approval. The man looked at the contents of the bowl and gave him a thumbs-up, fueling his pride of success.

(...He swore he heard a slight squeal from John after that. A fucking childish happy squeal from the usually stone-faced captain of his. What the fuck.)

Now, to mix all of this...maybe now he could-

“Cap, I swear if you’re thinking about using your fucking crowbar to mix those, I’ll forever ban you from using the kitchen again.”

Welp, time to think of another option.

He scanned the kitchen for a stirring tool and his eyes landed on a big wooden spoon near the sink. With that, he managed to turn the pile of ingredients into a dough with no difficulty.

Perfect. Now to add my personal touch-

“Ah, sonovabitch, I need to make a call to somebody first.” Ross’ sudden voice startled him out from his focus. The ace got up from his chair and walked to the balcony while pulling out his phone from his bomber jacket pocket. “Be right back after this, and don’t put the cookies before I told you to.”

And with that, Ross was no longer in his sight.

...Is this means...

As if he was possessed, he ran into the pantry and grabbed a tube of tomato paste, a jar or dark brown sugar, and small can of sea salt. At the same time, he opened up the fridge and grabbed a can of Monster and cracked open the fizzy energy drink. He put all four items into the counter near the dough bowl and began to dump them all inside the bowl without any kind of self-preservation whatsoever.

A small laugh escaped his lips, and it’s not the good one.

(Holy fuck, why the air is getting chilly all of the sudden? Ross tightened his grip on his warm phone as he put it back inside his jacket and went back inside.)

“Yo, I’m back from doing shi- what the fuck are you doing?”

His head immediately snapped at the voice’s direction, eyeing at horrified-looking Ross. His signature grumpiness was replaced with a face of disgust and fear. “CAP WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PUTTING- OH FUCK IT SMELLS LIKE SHIT!!!”

He shrugged him off, grabbing an empty baking tray with a sheet of parchment paper and put big dollops of the “dough”, even he wasn’t sure if it’s still considered cookie dough, but he feels like he did the right thing.

(He bet his dumbass captain thought he did the right thing, judging from his slight pride smirk plastered on his face right now. Hell, he’ll put all his PC setup inside that fucking bet.)

Ross gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything else. John knew his ace was in deep stress seeing what he did but didn’t say much. Barney loves food with tomato paste and he saw an article that chocolate chip cookies are better with sea salt added. He didn’t know about Monster drinks in them, but he hoped that they’ll turn up good.

After finishing up putting out all the dough, He put them into the preheated oven and put on a timer at ten minutes, then walked away from his crime scene calmly, knowing that Ross wouldn’t do shit to his masterpiece.

(If he managed to find Barney before his captain did, he need to warn him about John’s freshly-baked death in a form of reddish-looking cookies with chocolate chips)

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

“Cap, I’ve put your crap in the cooling rack now.”

John’s ears perked up upon hearing Ross’ voice and hurriedly blitzed from the sofa to the kitchen, eyes sparkled with delight. He could smell the sweet scent of the sweet brown sugar, along with the tomato paste and the overpowering Monster. To be honest, it’s not too bad of a smell.

(OH SHIT OH FUCK THE SMELL IS SO FUCKING HORRIBLE, BARNEY PLEASE COME HOME-)

“Oh, you looked so damn proud of yourself for not burning the kitchen.” The ace commented, putting all of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on. “Those craps better not be deadly or I’ll call the poison control crew.”

The captain slightly nodded his head, a small doubt landed on his mind. What if the taste wasn’t as good? He shook out those thoughts and focusing on those normal-looking reddish-coloured cookies. From a first glance, people might think these were just a batch of red velvet cookies with chocolate chips until they got a whiff of the smell.

Yeah, he needed a guinea pig to taste test one of them.

And the perfect candidate is just staring back at him with his usual grumpy face.

(...Why he felt like death is visiting him?)

“...What are you staring a- HURMPK!”

(WAITWHATTHEFU- Holy fuck he could see his entire life flashes before his eyes-)

With a speed of Lion’s EE-One-D*, John snatched one of the cookies and stuffed it into Ross’ mouth, which then the ace instinctively chew and swallow. His eyes widened and he seems to freeze for a moment before he dropped down to the floor and passed out.

...Is he dead? Did he just kill a man with food? Should he call an ambulance?

“Hey, I’m home- what the hell is happenin’ here?”

John froze when he heard that Southern-accented voice and slowly turned his head towards the source of the voice. Barney was standing near the counter, his brown-green heterochromia irides* eyes staring at them like he’d found a crime scene.

Well, he’s not wrong, it looks like a crime scene.

And he needed to silence the witness.

“...Gordon? Why are holding that cookie- URK!”

Like Ross, he stuffed his weapon to the vice’s mouth and made him writhe in disgust first before meeting his fate like his other unconscious teammate.

.

It was a usual Monday at the team’s apartment, with an addition of the team’s duo chef banned John from using the kitchen ever again, and the reddish-coloured cookies got disposed in an open dumpster fire and forever gone from their sight.

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

Footnotes:

- Lion’s EE-One-D: Basically a gadget from R6S’s attacker Lion, used to detect enemies by movements and its detection is almost instantaneous.

- Heterochromia Irides/Segmental Heterochromia: When a patch of a different color appears in one iris. In Barney’s case, he got a patch of green on both of his brown irises.

#daily story of freemans #VetExpert #Hawkeye01 #BlueShift #freemanverse comp-cas au

[cyb-by-lang]

Do you have any particular advice for beginner fanfic writers, like how to keep writing everyone in character etc?

Consume as much of the media you can stand (which, for Naruto, may be about three dozen key episodes, and then a lot of summaries), then ask yourself a lot of comprehension questions.

The most important is, “Given what I know of this character, what would they say or do in this situation?”

Like, fandom is full of thousands of different iterations of every character under the sun. Everyone sees characters slightly differently at minimum, because we’re all separate human beings and view the world through our own filters. What perspective you have to start with is often the favored one. Therefore, working within the bounds of a character’s oft-limited perspective is often difficult.

For example, I’m working on a story (stories?) about a character who’s fairly different from me. She has very limited characterization because her pre- and post-Heel-Face-Turn selves might as well have been the result of flipping a giant morality switch, and because she only really interacts in the later state with one or two other people. (Incidentally, the Fire Emblem support interaction system needs a serious fucking overhaul and needs to give characters connections between more than just the subject and the goddamn player avatar.)

This situation is a genuine struggle because the base traits I’m working from don’t play into each other.

ANYWAY.

My starting point is basically to dig down and try to figure out what’s a core trait and what’s just a one-off joke. What traits are going to screw them over in one situation and act as a boon in the next one? 

So, let’s use an example character: Kei. I figure that’s a good place to start, given that she’s the main POV character in the CYB series.

She’s loyal. She’s fairly specific with her loyalty, though; if Minato wasn’t the Hokage, she’d have little to connect her to the village’s central administration and instead focus much more tightly on just her team. When Konoha trains their soldiers, they kiiiinda hope for a broader sense of group/national identity and pride than that. Sheesh.

Also, people who earn her ire by attacking her loved ones don’t tend to get a chance to realize even genuine mistakes–she has the instinct to kill first, because that’s what she’s decided the consequence is going to be for hurting people she cares about. It’s almost always fueled by protective rage.

This has made it impossible for her to be the Naruto-figure of her generation. 

She’s interested in self-improvement to some degree and her loved ones’ well-being to a level that’s nearly all-consuming, but has no other personal ambitions. She can be relied upon as a soldier and a defender, but she’s worthless for political succession purposes. Minato cannot turn to Kei if he suddenly needs an heir for the hat right this second.

Kei is reflective. It helps her keep her eye on the future and point out her flaws, but she tends to get lost in her head even before Isobu’s presence changed the game. She also tends to be very critical of herself and others, even if it’s often delivered in a joking fashion.

Kei is indecisive. Aside from combat, she often waffles about what to do until the opportunity to act has nearly or completely passed and then beats herself up for it. When she does act, it’s often on impulse. Her indecisiveness leads to a lack of initiative, and that’s not worked out well for her. On the other hand, not acting keeps her from barreling through delicate situations like a rhino charging, because her influence is often…unsubtle.

Kei is easily attached. Once she decides she’s friends with someone, she’s probably willing to kill for their sake. By the same token, what amounts to her secondary life goal (keeping Hayate alive) started from this trait.

Kei is kind of overprotective. See: Hayate. She knows she can handle 95% of threats and doesn’t like seeing people (she thinks are) more vulnerable take proportionately bigger risks.

Kei is fairly secretive. If she doesn’t have to share her thoughts (and the thought is not funny), she often won’t. In the worst way possible. Which, given other people’s reactions to her in Shell Game, is often a pretty alarming trait.

And despite this mess of traits that makes a character, she functions pretty well. And this isn’t even getting into the contextual specifics that arise from her journey through the stories that feature her.

Basically: Think hard about what your character’s central traits are, and play into them where you can. Especially if they provoke consequences (outcomes) that make sense given what characterization you’ve given them.

#keisuke gekko #catch your breath fanfic #hayate gekko #asks #word of god #ask the author #Anonymous

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 35

Last time: Ed wasn’t a racist, Sloth forgot to turn left at Albuquerque, and M.G. Armstrong was getting ready to show off to the tourists. Onwards!

Episode 35 - “The Shape of This Country”

Awesome, we’re right back into it, M.G. Armstrong repeating her line from last episode. Ed’s confused until Buccy grabs his head and then his whole body to “lend a hand”. The Brothers protest until Buccy puts his pistol to Ed’s head what the Leto?!

[Buccy]: “You were forced to help us under duress; how does that excuse work for ya?’

Eh we can get into order technicalities later, just go with it for now Ed. Heck, if you pull this off right it’ll never get back to Bradley!

Poor Falman’s conscripted as well, Buccy still holding Ed at gunpoint as they take fuel cans to Gate 8. Seeing as the defused shells were insufficient, M.G. Armstrong uses her new weapons as blunt instruments to simply push Sloth into the elevator. Poor tank commander, he just wanted to show off the tanks to his boss but now he’s just getting stepped on by her. It works, and the slow thug is sent somewhere else to the relief of the poor mooks.

Now we’re down to Gate 8, where Sloth shambles out of the elevator all confused about where he is now. Suddenly Buccy runs in and damn, guy just shoulder-threw the biggest Goth so far to the ground, right below the others who poured the tank fuel onto him.

Good, you’ve soaked the Goth in flammable material. Anybody got a match?

Uh.

Ok, I can’t fault you for this one. Why settle for a match when you’ve got a Leto-damn tank?

Alright, that shot knocked it outside, you can use explosive shells safely now! FIRE!

…

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out of ammo?! You didn’t save even a single explosive shell? Boo.

Falman… I’ll say he ‘contributed’ by shooting down an icicle, but he probably didn’t need to bother. The Brothers run forward and Brother Kick off the fort wall. Guys, do you not realize the plan? You want heat, not this blasted cold!

Wait, what are you saying Buccy?

Oh. Well don’t I feel foolish now. I got so hung up on the idea of setting Sloth on fire that I didn’t even think about the opposite. Fast evaporating liquid plus stupidly low temperatures? Near-instant Gothsicle.

Awesome! Dead or not, Sloth isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Now we can- hey! Don’t arrest the Elrics, they helped! Falman too!

Argh, even with Sloth on ice M.G. Armstrong’s keeping up the excuse that they were forced to help, and as long as they’re detained she can try to get some more answers out of them. Although I’m totally down for learning what Sloth wanted, I can’t think of any reason the Goths would need a tunnel all the way to the northern edge of Amestris.

Rise and shine, prisoner! Ed seems to share my disdain for cold-weather mornings, but he perks up when one of the labcoats comes by with a mug. Ed, I wouldn’t- dude really? Just yesterday you got charged for a cup of coffee, why are you surprised the same thing happened today?

At least he gets some good information for free, like that a search party was sent into the tunnel to figure out what the heck it was, and Sideburns is visiting the hospital, there’s a soldier who… uh oh, it’s Kimblee, isn’t it? I know that the Elrics haven’t met him yet, and he still has to make up for his pathetic showing on that train, but I think that Ed should still worry more about the guy working for the Goths than his old enemy.

We get some other Briggs soldiers dropping by as well to thank the Elrics for their help yesterday. Ed and I are impressed by the camaraderie these guys seem to share, for a place defined by Survival of the Fittest there’s a good amount of teamwork and goodwill. Not enough to defy M.G. Armstrong and let them out of course, but still.

At the hospital Sideburns is confirming that Scar got away, before saying that Fort Briggs would search for Scar while Kimblee healed up. Kimblee of course demands that they back off and let him continue his hunt, Sideburns of course says they won’t just let a serial killer wander freely.

Ooooh… Sideburns just took off his sunglasses to show Kimblee his unmistakable red eyes, leaning in to warn a shocked Kimblee that if he tries to order him around again that he’d never leave the hospital. “You behave yourself.” Ha! Take that, you puffed up murderer!

Another visitor? Ah, it’s the traitor General Raven, come to check on their attack dog and their Philosopher’s Stones… really? Kimblee has both Stones? And he still got curbstomped by Scar? This is the same guy who utterly obliterated Ishval with just one, right? You make me sad, Kimblee. Shove off so we can worry about a real threat.

Whatever, the General still seems to think he’s useful so he’s brought a doctor (Leto-damn it stop adding doctors to this show, I can’t keep up with all of them!) to speed up his recovery with Alchemy. And wow that smile with several missing and one gold tooth. If I saw that guy come into the waiting room, I’d take my chances with whatever I had rather than trust him.

Marcoh and May! The original Doc is going over the research notes, says Alkahestry seems pretty complicated. May helpfully clarifies about this “Dragon Pulse” stuff, about how Alkahestry uses Chi, ‘rivers of power’ running through the world. Alhakestrists are able to trace the Chi and use where it enters and where it leaves to perform Remote Transmutation, like setting off the explosion at the train depot or making a statue of Shao on the other side of the cabin.

Alchemists don’t use Chi though, they use their own energy- wait, what? They use “energy from the movement of the Earth’s crust”? Bwah? So Alchemists tap into a deeper pool of energy… but May doesn’t feel like that’s right. She’s felt off ever since she got to Amestris, and under Central she could sense energy. Not like movement under the land, but “a crowd of people, squirming around”...

…

Oh for Leto’s sake. It’s the Super Grief Seed all over again.

Central’s sitting on either a crap ton of standard Philosopher’s Stones, or a great big honkin Super Philosopher's Stone. That’s what’s powering Amestrian Alchemy, isn’t it? And if all of Amestris draws from this one power source, and Uncle has access to it, then he can shut it down to cut everyone off. Alkahestrists like Scar and May were ok, but everyone else drawing from the SPS?

And damn it that means that when our heroes win they’ll shut down Alchemy? Either they’d better learn the heck out of Alkahestry to repair their bodies, or this show’s gonna have a very unsatisfying ending.

Mid-ep pictures of Edward and Alphonse Elric.

Repairs are underway in the Fort Briggs furnace room, and M.G. Armstrong’s getting a report about the tunnel; great big tunnel, but no one in it. She calls for some horses and the Elric Brothers.

Huh, the tunnel looks like it has railings. I thought Sloth was just digging a tunnel, and I doubt he’d have the fine motor control to set such even construction. So who set those up? While Ed admires the tunnel, M.G. Armstrong gripes that an intruder got through her defenses. Nobody’s even gotten in Briggs while she’s been in charge, but there was an incident 20 years ago…

Seriously? Teacher, I’m disappointed. You brag about surviving for a whole month in the Briggs Mountains, but it turns out that you just mugged some poor soldiers for their lunches?

M.G. Armstrong decides that they’ve gone far enough. Ah, I see! This was to get the Elrics away from curious ears in the Fort, so you can question them about what they couldn’t say earlier. Hoo boy. This could go very well, or very poorly. M.G. Armstrong? Please don’t give my fears foundation.

Cut to after the Elrics have talked about the Stones and Goths, Bradley and Uncle. The hostages too; Winry, Riza, Havoc…

[Falman]: “And, uh… w-what about Colonel Mustang?”

[M.G. Armstrong]: “Yeah… I couldn’t care less about him.”

Oh my Leto she’d just as rather see him fall to remove another “rival”. She’s after the title of Fuhrer! I… I don’t know how to feel about this.

Regardless, she wants the Elrics to examine the tunnel. Ed guesses that it didn’t originate in Drachma, and that it’s in the shape of a circle-

!!!

He’s figuring out what Hughes figured out ages ago! What got him killed!

Ed has Falman start reporting all major incidents in Amestris, gets a shock when he learns about Liore falling to pieces even after he and Al exposed the corrupt priest. M.G. Armstrong snaps at him to keep working though. He connects the dots…

[Falman]: “H-how is that possible? It looks just like the Transmutation Circle from the Fifth Laboratory!”

Yup. It’s a giant, country-sized TC. But-

Yeah, Marcoh’s saying he asked Envy if that was their plan, but the Goth had laughed at that, saying “That’s not it, but close.” Was he lying?

Oh thank Leto May’s giving up on the Philosopher’s Stone. Her Alkahestry and the research notes could possibly find a workaround. Maybe. There’s hope. But no matter what, she can’t continue to search for a Philosopher’s Stone. At least there’s that good news.

Which is something sorely needed, as our heroes have worked out that each of these incidents were caused by or exacerbated by the military, constantly growing the country of Amestris bloody conquest by bloody conquest.

[M.G. Armstrong]: “My country…”

Sheesh. To learn that the country that you swore to protect and defend, was designed from its inception to be a massive TC? That has to hurt.

Double sheesh, a flashback to Mr. Freeze himself. The very first episode, while I cannot condone his murderous actions… he was working against the Big Bad. And Ed, way back when? What was his attitude?

Regardless, probably not the best idea to let him keep doing whatever he’s doing. But Mr. Freeze starts monologuing about how Edward’s a Dog of the Military, how his bosses have Sinister Plans- Edward cuts him off, says he doesn’t care and it’s Not His Problem. Um. What? Do… do you really not care if you’re actually working for Bad Guys?

Bleh.

M.G. Armstrong is not happy- oooooooh, crapbaskets. There’s only one circle left to be harvested on the map until the TC is complete - Briggs. Welp. I guess that explains why Sloth was digging there. So, what now?

Apparently it’s dealing with a certain TRAITOR General who’s shown up at the Fort. M.G. Armstrong has to go see what he wants. Maybe trick him into revealing some info?

There’s the jerk, Sideburns is asking him to wait until his boss comes back. Him and damnit Kimblee’s already back on his feet, and is inside Briggs with Raven now.

I guess it’s safest to put the Elrics back in their cells while Raven’s in the area, don’t want him seeing them and reporting back to Bradley. Aw, chin up Al, don’t give up on Winry’s apple pie now.

Teatime with the Traitor with a microphone in the vent, M.G. Armstrong’s talking about a “monster” who attacked yesterday. A bit of Drachma Paranoia to build your case, then name dropping the Elrics makes Raven pause. How odd that they seemed to know about the monster but refused to talk…

The Elrics, Buccy, and Falman are listening in on the mic as M.G. Armstrong… wow ok. I did not expect her to play the “oh, I’m a frail little woman who couldn’t bear to torture the boys”, to Buccy’s great amusement.

Now she’s even bemoaning not having children, that she’s… oh. Um.

She’s saying she’s growing older.

She’s admiring the immortal body of the monster that attacked her fort.

Raven is saying such a body wouldn’t be a dream very soon.

[Raven]: “Tell me, General… Would you be interested in a legion of immortal soldiers?”

The Elrics say that he took the bait, but…

I’m just looking at M.G. Armstrong’s eyes, and the growing pupils.

Um.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 35

[fire-emblem-heroes-supports]

Summoner/F!Robin C-S Support

Written by  robluu321

C SUPPORT

F!Robin: Um, excuse me, (y/n).

(y/n): Uh?… Oh, Robin, good afternoon.

F!Robin: Good afternoon. Would you mind to answer me three questions I have?

(y/n): Sure. I may have work to do, but I’m not in a hurry. What do you want to know?

F!Robin: First… where did you learn your tactics?.

(y/n): Ah, that’s an easy one. Well, after I was summoned, I read a lot of books about military strategy… That’s how I learnt most of what I know about it.

F!Robin: Wait, so… you didn’t know anything about being a tactician before that?

(y/n): I had a little “experience”, I guess… since I played things called “video games”… but yeah. If we compare my knowledge now to my knowledge when I was in my world… there’s an abysmal difference. Part of the problem is, where I come from, magic does not exist.

F!Robin: Wow… weird… so you had to adapt to understand tactics with mages?

(y/n): Indeed. Honestly, all this stuff – dragons, magic, medieval life style… It’s all strange to me. There are legends and stories about it, but I never lived anything like this until now.

F!Robin: That brings up my next question. Many Heroes here say you describe stuff that we’ve never seen, many say you may be… um… crazy, and you just imagine them, actually… You said something about having played a… video… video game.

(y/n): It’s understandable. It’d be hard for anyone here to picture what a video game is, and I’d have a hard time myself explaining what it is. They don’t have to believe me if they don’t want to. The only way I could get you to understand would be to open a gateway to my world and bring back a video game and a console, or to bring you to my old house but… Well, I can’t do that.

F!Robin: That’s… convenient… but maybe it has something to do with my third questio Alfonse said you didn’t want to return to your own world… why?… don’t you have loved ones there?.

(y/n): I do. But opening a gateway to my world would be… Let’s say that, in my world, we have what we call… petroleum. It’s a mineral oil that we use for fuel, and very important for our economy. And… as you might suspect, it’s becoming rarer and rarer… I fear that if we open a gate, people would end up discovering Askr and come to steal its resources…

F!Robin: …Are you shaking?

(y/n): …Honestly, I am happier to be here… But you don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to. I guess that answers your three questions. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.

F!Robin: Wait!… They left…

[(y/n) and F!Robin have reached support rank C.]

SUPPORT B

(y/n): If only I could understand this better… Damn.

F!Robin: (y/n)!

(y/n): Robin? What a surprise.

F!Robin: I still had another question. Please don’t run away this time.

(y/n): …What is it?.

F!Robin: Why did you say you were happier here than in your home world?

(y/n): Well… Here, I’m more important than I am at home… Unlike all of you Heroes, I’ve never fought an evil empire trying to conquer the world nor an evil dragon trying to destroy humanity… I was just a regular person, like any villager.

F!Robin: So you were like Donnel before he joined the Shepherds, and your life here is more exciting.

(y/n): Pretty much, yeah… Okay, now may I ask you something as well?

F!Robin: Of course. (y/n): I don’t wanna sound rude but… why are asking me so many questions?

F!Robin: Let’s say… I feel a special connection with you.

(y/n): Connection? What do you mean? F!Robin: I’m not sure… It’s just, we’re very similar in some aspects: we’re both tacticians, working along a blue haired prince who has a cute younger sister and wields a legendary sword, our clothes are similar… The fear you displayed when you talked about an army from your world… It’s similar to the fear I had when I faced Walhart and his men… and…

(y/n): And? F!Robin: And we both worry too much about others, to the point we overwork ourselves to ensure their safety. We also both prefer to stay with the friends we made along the way than to live the destiny we were suposed to live before our adventure began.

(y/n): I see… let me test ask you something else. Did you decide to kill Grima, despite knowing it would kill you as well, because you couldn’t have lived the rest of your life in peace? Because it would have been selfish? Because it might have allowed the future where Lucina came from to happen again?

F!Robin: …I’m just one woman… Chrom and all the others didn’t understand that. My life is nothing compared to many lifes.

(y/n): But life does not care for what we want or what makes us feel better. For what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice, Robin. Even if it was a hard decision. Remember this: the hardest choices require the strongest will.

F!Robin: …Thank you for being so understanding, (y/n).

(y/n): You’re welcome. I’m gonna have to cut our chat short though… I still have a lot of working to do.

F!Robin: Would you like some help?

(y/n): Haha. Yes, why not?

[(y/n) and F!Robin have reached support rank B.]

SUPPORT A

F!Robin: You know, when you said you had too much work to do, I thought you meant making tactics, but all these… the telescope, compass, thermometer… They are just wonderful.

(y/n): They truly are. A shame the vast majority of people would be unable to explain how they work, let alone build them.

F!Robin: That makes sense, I suppose… After all, I would be unable to build a ballista. So you really are from a completely different world, aren’t you?

(y/n): Mhm. Feels weird to live in a medieval setting.

F!Robin: What do you mean by medieval?

(y/n): A long time ago, my world was very similar to Askr or Ylisse. Well, without magic, pegasi, wyverns, dragons and all that stuff, of course.

F!Robin: Ah, that’s right, no magic. Then it must have been pretty difficult to do certain things, and I guess battles were more simple, only melee fights… (y/n): Oh, no, actually. In modern society, we have weapons that allow us to fight from a distance.

F!Robin: Like archers?

(y/n): Sort of? I guess you could think of such weapons as evolved bows and arrows… Wait, I think I can explain. You see how Breidablik works?

F!Robin: Yes. You load it with orbs and then you push that thing here, and it fires. Like a crossbow.

(y/n): Haha, I didn’t think about it, but it does work a bit like a crossbow. To me, it’s more similar to one of the weapons I just mentioned – a gun.

F!Robin: Interesting… So, instead of orbs, you’d load a “gun” with another kind of projectile. Similar to cannonballs, but smaller.

(y/n): Exactly. We call them bullets.

F!Robin: Um… Would have been pretty convenient if Breidablik could do that.

(y/n): Ha! Yeah… I could have headshoted Surtr or Veronica and we’d all be happy right now. Well, in theory.

F!Robin: Such efficient yet deadly new weapons… I can see why anyone from your world coming here with ill intentions would be worrisome.

(y/n): Yes… The mere idea this could happen makes me… makes me… urgh…

F!Robin: You’re trembling again. Are you okay?

(y/n): Yes, yes… Sorry. I worry too much, don’t I? After all, there’s no way this could happen. As long as I’m using Breidablik with good intentions in mind, this will never… urgh.

F!Robin: …You know you’re not alone, right? Everyone here is your friend. We can support you. There’s no point in getting sick with worry. That’s what my own friends taught me.

(y/n): Thank you, Robin. I appreciate the thought. But as my duty-

F!Robin: Oh, please. Don’t give me the “duty” excuse. I’ll help you, everyday! I know how it feels to work restlessly… so please, just let me help you.

(y/n): In that case… Alright, friend. Thanks a lot.

F!Robin: Don’t mention it.

[(y/n) and F!Robin have reached support rank A.]

S SUPPORT

F!Robin: You!

(y/n): Argh!

F!Robin: Stay right here! Don’t try to run away!

F!Robin: You owe me an explanation, and I want it now!

(y/n): R-Robin? I… Um… I have to–

F!Robin: Work to do, yes, I know. That’s the problem! What’s gotten into you? All of a sudden, it’s like I’m not allowed to work with you anymore! I just wanted to make sure you’d be fine, as a friend, and now you are overworking yourself again! Why?

(y/n): I know, I just… You’re… distracting me.

F!Robin: Distracting you…? So you’re saying it’s my fault then.

(y/n): I mean… Do you have any idea how hard it is to focus on skills sets or strategies for Tempest Trials when there’s someone as kindhearted and pretty as you always standing near me?!

F!Robin: …Excuse me?

(y/n): You gave me a hand when I needed it the most… and after that, every time you helped me, the only thing I could think about was how smart and beautiful you are. Sheesh, I even spilled tea all over me the other day because I was thinking about your smile.

F!Robin: (y/n)… I had no idea…

(y/n): I know. I’m sorry I changed my mind about working together and gave you no explanation. Well, here’s your reason. I love you. It’s just… In order to stay focused on my duties, I needed you to stay away from my job.

F!Robin: …You are such an idiot. Instead of taking such a rash decision, you should have told me. Who’s to say I don’t feel the same about you? Geez… I hadn’t confessed and I still thought you had rejected me.

(y/n): I-I’m sorry… I never expected I had a chance. But… maybe we can try.

F!Robin: What do you mean?

(y/n): If we both feel the same, maybe I won’t have any problem being in love with you and working at your side.

F!Robin: Now that sounds like a good decision. Here, let me tell you something.

[(y/n) and F!Robin have reached support rank S.]

Confession quote:

F!Robin: “Your dedication to help everyone, your kindness, your intelligence… I love it all. You opened my eyes to wonders I would have never imagined. I can not imagine how my life would have been like had I never met you. Let’s stay by each other’s side, for the rest of our lives.”

#male and female heroes #fire emblem awakening #submission #y'all have no idea how much time i spent proofreading this #in the end i changed so many things T___T i hope the writer can still recognize their support chain #i'm sorry writer i hope that's okay and sorry it took me so long

[shewhowantsmouseears]

2 weblena fairy-tale au drabbles

TBH I don’t think they’re as good as the last one I wrote, but eh, least I tried.

Lena ignored the exhaustion in her body, with her drooping eyelids being the most difficult to ignore. Despite her body begging for sleep, she continued to flip through the book in an effort to find anything useful she could practice. If she ever wanted to get out from under Magica's thumb, she needed to become a better sorceress than her wicked aunt. Even now, all alone, she could hear Webby gently chiding – Bad spells will lead to bad ends! Just leave the work to me, I'll get you the destiny you deserve! - but after shaking her head, she managed to get the young fairy's voice away. Webby meant well, but Lena was going to find her own way to freedom. Somehow. Eventually.

That's when her eyes fell upon the “Heart's Desire” spell, and the wording of it was enough to interest her. She sat up straighter on her makeshift bed, following the letters with a finger.

Many of us have goals in mind, but they can be vague and obscure. I want to be rich. I want to marry. I want power. But what is that exact definition? With this illusion spell, you can find a solid goal to work towards by unlocking your subconscious desires.

Huh. That... wasn't a bad idea, all things considered. Lena wanted freedom, but when you put it that way, freedom to do what? What would she even do if she lived without Magica? It always seemed like a far-off, distant date so she never figured out the next step. Her eyes flew to the ingredients – along with stealing away any tomes Magica had instructed her to burn, Lena had also gotten away with snatching extra ingredients to several potions. This would work out perfectly, and it didn't take long. Leaves of a four leaf clover, milk from a cow that's given birth exactly three times, two pieces of silver, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, drop of blood... and then the combination would be lit like incense.

Fire spells were easy enough – one snap of her fingers and she could get a decent flame lit. As a small stream of smoke began to shudder forth, she waved it towards her nose, trying to get a good whiff in – and immediately regretted it. Yuck, that smelled worse than the royal stables! She resisted the urge to hack just as she heard her door open, and she froze up – oh, gods, if Magica caught her, she was going to be punished, she was going to be hurt, she was going to be sent to the shadow room -

“Hi Lena.” Webby stood in the doorway, her typically cheerful demeanor not as big or bright tonight.

Lena exhaled deeply, her body sagging. “Sheesh, Web, you almost gave me a heart attack.” She blew out the flame, not wanting the magic to irritate Webby's own fairy magics. “What are you doing here at this hour? If Magica catches you, she'll rip your wings off and place them above the mantle.”

“I know, I know.” Webby slowly closed the door behind her, and then began to fidget, unable to look Lena directly in the face. “It's just... there's... it couldn't wait.”

Frowning, Lena slid off her bed, placing the world's smelliest candle aside. “What is it? What, did Prince Charming turn out to be just a duke?” A lame attempt at humor, but sometimes it was all she had. Even her worst jokes could get Webby to crack a smile, so when Webby went silent, Lena knew it was serious. “Webby? … Everything okay?”

Finally Webby raised her eyes towards Lena's, and there was something in there that Lena couldn't quite name. A mix of confusion, sadness, hopefulness, and... and what? Webby swallowed, wringing her hands together, and when she spoke, her voice was softer than any flower petal. “Lena... will... will you kiss me?”

Lena had heard the expression about eyes bulging out of people's heads, and thought it was always a stupid exaggeration – until now, as she could literally feel her eyes expanding until they almost emptied the sockets. She didn't hear that. She couldn't have heard that. Her mouth formed to say something, didn't, tried again, still didn't, she raised a finger in the air, maybe she misheard! Yes! “Wuh... wuhhh... what?”

“I know it's selfish of me!” Webby suddenly cried out, grabbing both of Lena's hands with her own, eyes beginning to fill up with clear tears. “But... I don't want to let Prince Charming have you! I want you all to myself!”

Hang on hang on hang on - “I-it-when did-” Lena backed up, her entire face reddening.

“I just can't stand the thought of anyone else kissing you, or dancing with you, or being with you!” With every step Lena took back, Webby took one forward, her grip tightening, desperation growing.

“S-since when – Webby – wait a minute-WHOA!” Lena bumped into the side of her bed and fell onto her back, unceremoniously bringing Webby on top of her, who didn't seem to mind this turn of events.

“I love you, Lena!” Webby pleaded, her hands now pinning Lena down – when did she get so strong?! - torn between crying and begging. “I love you so, so, so sooo much!” Without waiting for any permission, she smashed her mouth into Lena's, and Lena felt her mind exploding. What was happening?! She needed a minute to think! Why couldn't she remember how to breathe anymore?! She wasn't even being allowed to recover from the – what was essentially a rather fantastic – initial kiss as Webby now began to cover Lena's face in tearful kisses, repeating over and over how much she loved Lena, Lena was so pretty, Lena was so perfect, I love you Lena, I love you Lena, so so so so so so much!

THUNK.

Lena blinked.

She was laying on the floor, all alone in her room, having fallen off the bed. Her eyes very slowly went to the spell candle that was still burning, and the pieces clicked together in her head.

Her body trembled with anger before finding the strength in her legs to get up, grab the spell book, and throw it across the room. “Think you're real funny, don't you!” she snapped.

Out in the hallway, Magica snapped back. “What's all that noise?”

“Nothing, Auntie.” Lena automatically replied, and went very still so that Magica would believe it. After several minutes of silence passed, Lena felt it was safe enough to go back to bed, and muffle her annoyed screams into her pillow.

~*~

The bad news is that they were being chased by a horde of angry unicorns. The good news was... um... let's see... Webby's mind faltered. She was usually great at finding the silver lining in any cloud, but this was a difficult situation. All she needed was a few hairs, and surely they could've spared that! But, well, Lena hadn't listened to Webby's instructions, thinking that a bunch of “prissy show-horses” couldn't do much harm, so why not take several hairs at once... but there was no point pinning the blame on anybody. It wasn't going to save them now.

“Can't you talk to them?!” Lena shouted as they ran through the forest, not daring to look bad at the army getting closer by the second. “I've seen you talk to all kinds of animals, tell them to back off!”

“Talking to them is one thing!” Webby tried to remind her friend as they scrambled past bushes and trees. “I can't make them listen!” She struggled to think back to her lessons back under Granny's watchful eyes. “Unicorns, unicorns... they fear the darkness and only come out during the day! They only respect creatures with higher magical energy than they have!”

Interesting information, but ultimately useless. Lena did know a spell that could create a giant wave of darkness, but she could only do it once per day – if she missed, they were dead. With they way they were running down, it'd be impossible to nail down the trajectory she needed.

Things only got worse when Webby tripped over a steep cut in the ground, and she squeaked as she hit the grass, her wand rolling away and fall off into a nearby riverbank. “My wand!” She shrieked, trying to get up. “I need it!”

“Leave it!” Lena commanded, trying to grab Webby's hand pull her up to her feet.

“I can't, it's my conduit! I need it to channel my magic into spells!”

“We can't stay here, we'll be mauled to death by 'my little pony'!” Lena could see them in the distance, hearing the hoofbeats echoing. Think, think, come on! There had to be something she learned in the things she stole from Magica, there had to be a payoff for those risks! Webby kept trying to reach for the riverbank, and Lena kept trying to pull her back. A higher magical energy... a higher magical energy...?

Suddenly, a memory flashed back into Lena's mind.

“It's not like regular mortals have no magic of their own.” Webby had said, hanging upside from a tree branch, as Lena was whittling a makeshift voo-doo doll. “The most powerful magic is fueled by emotions. The stronger you feel it, the more powerful the outcome.”

Lena was on and off paying attention, trying to carve Magica's likeness into what would be a failed project. “A-huh. So if you're saying I'm happy enough, I can totally trounce you?”

“Not exactly.” Webby swung back and forth, trying to think of a good example. “The most common display of mortal magical energy is True Love's Kiss.”

Lena stopped carving and glanced up, mostly out of disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

“I am always one-hundred-percent serious.” Webby had said, just in time for her recently created flower-crown to fall off her head. “It's powerful enough to break some of the strongest spells, even when done by an Enchantress! And if it's the first one, that ups the power by sooo much. It's like, a huge explosion of magic!”

“You're making this up.”

Webby looked offended. “I would never lie to you.”

This was true, and Lena winced, because she had certainly lied to Webby about several things. “Okay... I just wouldn't get your hopes up about seeing that in my lifetime. Not really into kissing, or true love, or any of that garbage.”

“Oh, you will be.” Webby easily enough was back into smiles and sunshine, swinging back and forth. “Once you fall in love, I bet your First True Love's Kiss is going to be one for the history books!”

… Lena spared a glance to the heavens, wondering if some deity was having a great laugh at her expense. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She grabbed both of Webby's arms to spin her around. “Webby! That thing about kissing – you said it's super powerful, fight?”

Webby blinked rapidly, having no idea where that came from. “What? I – well, yeah, true love's kiss is mega huge!”

“If you used me as a conduit instead of the wand, would that work?”

“I – I don't know, I've never heard of a person being a wand-”

The unicorns were getting closer, there was no more time for analysis! “I'll apologize later, okay!” Before Webby could ask what Lena intended to apologize about, Lena yanked her friend in close and pressed her lips as deeply as she could to Webby's. Having never kissed anyone before, Lena hoped that there was no magical rules or guidelines to make this count. All she could do was hope that lips to lips was it.

One second passed. Then two. On second three... Lena opened one eye, and had to admit Webby wasn't exaggerating. This sure looked like a magical explosion.

Webby's fairy wings, which were normally the size of her palm, had suddenly grown ten times their size, encompassing all the colors of the rainbow, with stain-glass framework of flowers and falling petals. They flapped once, coating the entire area around them in glitter and pink dust, and suddenly all the grass bowed down in reverence, newly planted roses sprang up with rich red colors, vines hugged the trees and even the nearby river was suddenly clear and beautiful. The clouds had parted and a brilliant beam of sunshine glowed down upon the two girls, and several birds in the branches began to sing the sweetest songs.

Webby, for her part, hadn't moved.

The unicorns stumbled upon this and whinnied loudly, not making any further advancements but still kicking up their feet. Seizing the moment, Lena pushed Webby behind her and held out her hands. “All right, you rejects from the glue factory, go home before I use your horns as toothpicks!” She slammed her hands together, muttering ancient tongues as black sludge began to spew from her palms. She then waved her hands apart, and the darkness rose high above, her, creating the beastly image of the darkest minds, and the unicorns cried out in fear before turning tail and running for their lives. Lena let the fake monster stay in the air for a moment longer in case there were any stragglers, and then let her arms drop – the monster faded, the nightmare was over.

Webby still hadn't moved.

“That was... way too close for comfort.” Lena sighed, running a hand through her hair, and she blinked at the glitter on her fingers when she pulled it back. “Huh... This stuff comes off, right? Not a huge fan of the sparkles.” When there was no reply, she turned around. “Webby?”

Webby, whose wings had just now shrunk back to their normal size, made a sound that could've been a “hee” before falling face-forward into the dirt. Lena wondered if she should've considered that reaction flattering. Now that their lives were no longer in peril, she could think about what she'd done, and she blushed. W-well. It's not like... she planned it, or anything. It just happened. But they definitely had to talk about it, didn't they? She hesitated, then walked to Webby and tried to roll her over.

“I am sorry,” she began, stopping when she saw Webby's deliriously stupid smile. The closest thing she'd ever seen to something like that was when Magica had downed six bottles of the good stuff from Ithaquack. “Webby? Can you hear me? Earth to Webby. You good?” She began flicking Webby's forehead.

“I'M GOOD!” Webby suddenly shouted, sitting up so quickly she almost bonked her forehead into Lena's. “I'M SO GOOD. I'M THE BEST AT BEING GOOD.” If she noticed all the extra flora and fauna around her, she didn't say so. Her mind was, unsurprisingly, on one thing. “That was... that was...” Words failed her, and she made futile gestures with her small hands.

Lena looked away, embarrassed, but she was also starting to smile. “Mmm. It was.” Maybe this wouldn't be as gut-wrenching as she first thought. People didn't make ridiculous faces like that if they hated a kiss, one could argue. She offered a hand to help Webby up. “Can you walk?”

“I can do many things.” Webby felt her intelligent hit a new low. “Including walking.” Once on her feet, she brushed down her skirt. Neither girl could quite look at the other's face just yet.

“We should get your wand.” Lena suggested.

“My wh... OH! Wand. Yes. Wand, I need the wand! Can't do spells without a wand!” With that, Webby raced to the riverbank to fetch it. She found it easily enough, and wiped off the mud with her sleeve. “There we go, no harm done.” Then, after a moment, she looked back at Lena with a new understanding. “You remembered my lesson!”

“I do pay attention sometimes.” Lena leaned against a tree, content to watch Webby. This was a step towards something, although Lena wasn't keen on giving it an exact definition. They could take it nice and slow, they were still young. Even better, they could finally put that whole “destiny” nonsense away, dead and done with. “So... this really says a lot, doesn't it?” She asked as she watched Webby climb back up.

“It says sooo much.” Webby agreed, flipping back onto the grass. “You have no idea how happy this makes me! This is so great!”

Lena's cool demeanor was, as usual, shattered before Webby's sheer adorableness. She felt her cheeks getting redder, and she turned her head away, trying to cover up her smile with her hand. “It... It really is, isn't it.” Her heart began to beat harder. Webby was so cute. So great. So, so so...

“Yeah! If that's what it's like to kiss me, Prince Charming is in for a real treat!”

… So amazingly DUMB.

Lena dropped her hand from her face. “What.”

Webby began to walk back to their original destination, twirling her wand here and there. “He won't know what hit him! Man, when you actually fall in love, that magic will be a real miracle to see! I kinda hope I'm there when it happens. All the other princes of the past are going to be super jealous.”

“You... you... you...” It was a good thing Webby had her back to Lena, so she could miss Lena strangling the air. “I... can't... BELIEVE YOU!”

Webby jumped – she'd rarely heard Lena yell like that before, and she whipped around. “Huh? … I'm serious, he'll like it!”

“I am going home!” Lena shouted, inches close to a full-blown snarl. “And I don't want to see you, or your wand, or anything magical, for a LONG TIME!” With one final stomp in the dirt, she began to march off, smacking away one of the sweetly-singing birdies.

“L-Lena!” Webby tried to trail after her, but Lena's march turned into a sprint, and she was gone. Webby scratched her head, puzzled as to what set Lena off this time. Maybe she could ask the boys, they tended to have solid advice every once in a while. She tapped her wand to her beak. What went wrong? Was this Lena just being stubborn about her destiny again? Why was so adamant about fighting it? She'd be so much happier if she went along with it!

If anything, this told Webby she had to get Lena to kiss one of the princes pronto. Because if someone had been kissed by Lena, and they didn't immediately fall in love with her, they'd have to be a blithering dunce.

#ducktales 2017 #fanfic #weblena #webby vanderquack #lena de spell

[calliecat93]

RWBY V6 CH8 Review: Dead End

Last week, Kerry revealed that the finale would take place on January 26th, which since this week was a holiday, totals to a 13 episode season. It's one episode short from last year, but hey 13 is a standard number for an anime season, so fair enough. Also sorry that this took so long, I had... stuff happen with the blog the past few days. But it's fixed now, I posted Chapter 7 yesterday, and now it's time to cover Chapter 8! Lets get to it!

Overview

Team RWBY, Qrow, and Maria at at Argus' military base, but are denied access by the... bizarre twin guards. I think that they may be based on The Cards form Alice in Wonderland, and it'll be more clear why in a bit. The heroes are forced to play the Weiss Schnee card, and it gets the guards to agree to fetch their commanding officer. But to the ire of all the Winter fans out there... it's not her. Maria thinks that she knows who it is though, and they happen to be enemies because said CO put Maria on the advanced screening list for life for taking cashews on a flight. Sheesh. But hey, maybe Maria's right and she's dead! Funniest moment of the episode BTW.

The CO of the Argus base is an egotistical elderly woman known as Caroline Cordovan. She displays much of the attitude that we expect from Atlas characters. Egotistical, boastful, authoritarian, and sees Atlas as the greatest kingdom of all. She had already refused to help JNR, who are also there, and it's pretty clear that she's not going to help the group still. They try to reason with her by explaining that they know that Atlas isn't at fault for Beacon, but it only makes it worst. Cordovan DOES offer to take Weiss home if she's come to her senses... but isn't going to do the same for her friends of 'questionable nature' while looking at Blake. Wow, she's a racist. Lovely. When Weiss questions this, Cordovan slams the gates int heir faces. I agree with Maria's previous sentiment, she's a she-devil. I'm pretty sure that she's supposed to be the Queen of Hearts considering her personality, which would explain the guards being the Cards.

With the plan reaching... well, a dead end, Qrow calls it quits and goes to drink. So he obviously learned nothing form Brunswick! JNR just suggests coming up with a plan without him, pointing out that they still have Ozpin. Que an awkward beat and we cut to later... where Jaune punches a hole in his sister's wall. I hope she has home insurance. So yeah... JNR doesn't take the truth well. Even Nora is pissed off. I'm... mixed about this. It's very understandable for them to be angry and upset, especially considering they lost Pyrrha due to this. But it does bring up a minor critique I have. The response to Salem being un-killable and Ozpin not having a true plan have all ha done reaction: anger and giving up. Some took ti worst than others, but it's still the same. The only one who hasn't is Ruby, which helps but it makes the fact that no one is wondering 'well maybe we can win without killing Salem' or 'maybe we can ask Jinn if there's a way to defeat Salem and not destroy her' hasn't been brought up once. It gets annoying when, even though you understand why everyone is reacting the way that they are, no one has had any logical thought since and continue to spew in their negativity, like Qrow is. All I'm saying is let the reactions be a bit more diverse, if only to keep this from getting either predictable or just irritating.

Oscar tries to calm everyone down, pointing out that they aren't the bad guys in this. Jaune questions this however before storming over to Oscar, wanting to know if he had known about this the whole time. Even when Weiss tries to say he didn't, Jaune grabs the farmboy and slams him into the wall, questioning where his loyalties stand and even if it's even Oscar that they're talking to. Throughout, Oscar is clearly terrified and it only ends when Ruby calls out Jaune. To the paladin's credit, this get shim to realize what he's doing and is clearly horrified. He backs away before going upstairs, Nora and Ren soon following and wanting to be left alone. The RWBY girls also scatter, leaving a clearly distraught Oscar. Great for none of you to check if he's okay or not. Doing a bang up job ladies.

As the others go to get food, Ruby goes outside to an absolutely beautiful butterfly garden. She's trying to call Qrow to find out where he is, but she gets nothing and throws her Scroll in frustration. It's clear that all of this is beginning to get to Ruby, something that Maria, who had gone back there to avoid the yelling, sees as well. Ruby explains how with everything happening, she's at a loss of what to do. Maria can't help with that, or at least she can't without it defeating the purpose, but she does offer to help Ruby feel better if she's sick of not knowing about things. Yes my friends, we are FINALLY going to talk about the Silver Eyes! I have waited for this for so long!!!

When Ruby explains what she does know, aka more or less nothing Maria explains that there isn't much known about the bloodline. She was lucky as she was trained by her father, who we can assume was also a Silver Eyed Warrior. He taught Maria all that she knew and it led her to scoring higher on the Huntress Exam than any other applicant without having to even attend one of the academies. But if the Silver Eyes are so powerful, why are they so rare? Simple, they were hunted down and killed by Salem. This is why Maria took on a masked persona and hid things such as her name, to hide her powers and not be a target. Of course, we all know how that ended, and Maria credits her survival to both her training and her Semblance. The latter is revealed to be what she dubs Preflexes, which is more or less Spider Man's Spidey Sense. She can sense things before they happen and can be one move ahead of her opponent due to it. Awesome!

Ruby is all set to learn to vaporize monsters with her eyeballs... which earns her a bonk on the head. I guess Maria attended the Rafiki School of Mentorship. The Silver Eyes aren't fueled by the desire to destroy Grimm, it is powered by the desire to protect people. On every case where Ruby used the powers thus far (Pyrrha's death, Jaune facing Cinder, The Apathy), she did so because she was trying to save someone and it allowed her to freeze the Wythern and vaporize the Apathy.  Maria goes on to explain that where the Grimm were created by the God of Darkness, the light of the Silver Eyes comes form his brother, the God of Creation. How does Maria know this? Well remember in Jinn's vision when the God turned into the dragon for the first time? We saw a burst of light that vaporized the Grimm. I thought that was just the effects of the transformation.. wow I feel stupid! That is an awesome detail!

Now since the light only effects Grimm, any training that Ruby can get is going to be a trial by fire. But Maria does suggest that the young huntress can work to create a mindset that she can turn to in order to unleash the power when she needs to. But Ruby is confused by something. The light on works on Grimm, right? Well if you recall, Ruby was able to use it on Cinder back in Haven... IDK how she remembers this since Emerald knocked her out immediately, but still. Now we all know why that is, but Ruby doesn't. Which has Maria suggest that maybe there's something that the huntress isn't seeing. But anymore talk comes to an end as Ruby and JNR are informed that Oscar has gone missing. Well... shit.

Review

Of the episodes so far, it's safe to say that this may be the weakest. But only in terms of it being an exposition/build-up episode instead of an action episode or something along those lines. I can't call it bad though as a lot of good came out of this episode. The first half was pretty dang funny. Caroline is terrible, but her boastful personality makes her entertaining to watch at the very least. Maria was comedy gold here with her rant about the cashews and the 'Maybe she's dead!” line. Again, funniest moment in the episode. It's nice that we got to have a couple of laughs before the heavy stuff came back in because... haha, IDT we're going to be having many more light-heated moments in these last five episodes. Call it a hunch.

As I said, while I would like for the group to have some cold hard logic hit them already, Team JNR's reactions are completely understandable. Jaune especially. Really, he's got the most reason out of everyone aside form maybe Qrow to be angry. Remember, Pyrrha got killed because of this and even she wasn't aware of all the details when the whole Fall Maiden thing happened. We can argue about the circumstances all that we want, Pyrrha still died trying to do what was right, and ever since everything that Jaune has done has been to not let her death be in vain. So finding out that all of that was for nothing? I can't blame him for being angry or how he reacted. Am I defending him? Hell no. Oscar did NOTHING wrong. The way that Jaune manhandled him was horrifying and seeing this young kid clearly terrified was just wrong. But it still makes sense hwy Jaune reacted that way all things considered, and to his credit he DID realize what he was doing and stopped. And we find out that Oscar is gone, it is very clear that Jaune feels remorseful for taking his anger out on Oscar and of what could happen to him now. Out of everyone so far aside from Oscar, I sympathize with Jaune the most.

Who I have lost my sympathy for however is Qrow. He is just...a  mess. Brunswick was bad enough, but now? Look, I know how hard it is to let go of addiction, especially considering how bad of a mental state that Qrow is in. But after how his drinking caused him to be so out of it that he failed to realize that the kids that he's responsible for to get killed, it's becoming more and more difficult to feel bad for him. He SAW what his carelessness could have led to, and even now he hasn't learned. Because of it, Ruby has to be the adult trying to keep everyone going despite all the circumstances, and she has to try and find him on top of everything else. It's at the point where this can't go unaddressed anymore. Ruby or someone needs to give Qrow an intervention and outright tell him to stop. I imagine that it'll get ugly, but if something isn't done soon, then most likely Qrow is going to get either himself or someone else killed. It's time for him to stop the self-loathing.

Okay, lets try to talk about something more positive, like the Silver Eyes! First, I need to say this again. Maria has been a delight as a character and has just fit right in with the cast. Funny, sassy, practical, she's been a great addition and is the kind of character that Ruby needs to mentor her. I loved hearing some details about her past, like her relationship with her father and how she became a Huntress. It's exposition, sure, but it's used to show Maria's experience and wisdom. We learn more about a character that so far the fandom really loves, and it serves a purpose. We also see her intelligence as she pieced together about the source of the Silver Eyes powers just form Jinn's vision. She is very much what Ruby needs. She's an optimistic character, but also firm and wise. She can push Ruby in the right direction without being too harsh or too nice. Hopefully she sticks around after this season because she's such a welcome addition.

As for Ruby, she continues to be a bright spot in the season. She's trying so hard, but the weight is really beginning to get to her. She had to stop Jaune from physically hurting someone, is being ignored by Qrow and his unreliableness is clearly upsetting her, and she feels like she's letting everyone down due to how hopeless everything seems. She is meant to be an inspiring, hopeful figure and she is trying her damnest to be this way. After the initial plan went up in smoke, her first response is to comfort Weiss and again assure her that they won't leave her side. She's stepped up as a leader, but she's till a 16, maybe 17 if Lindsay can be believed, year old girl in a very difficult situation and with Qrow intoxicated and Oz gone, she has to be the adult. She has to look after everyone and keep them on track. She has to try and encourage them and not give up, and so far that doesn't seem to be working. This girl has so much pressure on her because everyone else has given up, and it's starting to weigh on her. Will this be the season where she breaks down? It's hard to say, but I do think that before the volume is over, we're going to see some kind of reaction out of her.

On the upside however, after so long, Ruby is finally learning about the Silver Eyes. She's asking questions. She's excited to learn to use this power. She actively WANTS to learn about it. This is what I have been hoping for ever since the end of V3. This is the moment where we are seeing Ruby beginning to go from a rookie fresh out of Beacon long before she was ready, to taking the steps to becoming the Huntress that she has always wanted to be. In light of everything and even with her doubts, Ruby has stepped up as a leader, has yet to give up despite how hopeless it looks, and is still determined to do what's right. Now she has a mentor to teach her to use her gift, something unique to her, and hopefully that can help ignite the will to continue on. Ruby's goal has always been to be a Huntress to help people, and overtime that has gone form naive ambition to seeing how dark the world can be, and wanting to do whatever is possible to do good because it's the right thing to do. Ozpin was right about what he said in V5, she truly is an inspiring figure, and this is why. Even in face of the hopelessness and everyone around her giving up, she hasn't. Will she? It's hard to say, but there is no doubt that no matter what tries to keep Ruby down, she'll face it and she will somehow pull everyone up with her. This volume, more than any other, has made that clear and I love it.

What helps that entire scene, of course, is both the setting and the music. The garden is absolutely beautiful, having a very calming atmosphere, which after the blowup was very much needed. The butterflies also added to the beauty and calmness. Apparently blue butterflies can symbolize change, and butterflies in general can symbolize life. You see it in anime all the time. It's perfect symbolism here as Ruby seeks to change herself and become a Silver Eyed Warrior, so it's a very welcome touch. And the music... gosh the music is so beautiful and serene. Jeff and Alex once more killed it, especially with the new renditions of Red Like Roses and This Will be the Day. Very nostalgic and it added to this being about Ruby taking that next step forward. Very well done!

Then of course we have the ending. Oscar is missing. For the moment, we will assume that he has left of his own volition due to the manhandling and the questioning of his identity, which was already a problem for him. And... is anyone surprised? I mean Jaune shoving him alone would be enough reason to leave. But the way everyone keeps seeing him as Ozpin, directing the anger at him even if unintentionally, and how no one seemed to care about how he's felt about all of this. Only Ruby ever did, and Qrow made sure to kill that. Of course he would leave. No one trusts him and now even he's questioning who he is and what to do now that it looks like they will inevitably lose. Hopefully he will be found safe and sound and will come back. And hopefully everyone will apologize, or Jaune will at the very least. For now, all that we can do is worry about his safety until Saturday roles around.

Final Thoughts

This may not have been the heaviest chapter, but it was still enjoyable. The first half was entertaining and did a good job of setting up the next obstacle for our heroes. The second half was very much emotional and Jaune's reaction was pretty much what we were expected. The exposition was welcomed and added to the scene instead of dragging it down. And of course we're left on a cliffhanger that is mean, but not 'Weiss just got stabbed' levels of mean. Overall, while it may be the weakest episode of the volume so far, I still give it two thumbs up! Great work!

#rwby #rwby6 #rwby reviews #callie reviews

[cecke8]

Your Ginger Housemate - Part 13

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So I’ve been trying to create more of an idea of what I’m visualising through the pictures I’m adding. If you refer to Part 12, the picture of the alley is what I visualise behind the apartments. So that’s just something to link and think about. 

How could I do something like that? I almost lost control after all this time making sure all I would “behave myself”. Make sure I’m always in a good mood. Make sure I always rein in my anger. Make sure I don’t scare her anymore! That was the deal I made myself when I started living there.

Okay sure, I frighten her sometimes - like when I’m standing in the doorway for a while, but I’ve always scared people from time to time. I guess it’s because, ever since I was really young, I developed the habit of walking really softly. 

No one would hear me enter rooms, so they’d turn around and I’d just kinda’ be there. Funny though. Their fear fueled me. Still does, so I just let the habit become an advanced skill of mine. But that fear is reasonable. The fear I must have just given y/n was worse. A lot worse. 

How could I do something like that? Ugh! 

I kick a trashcan and it goes clattering down the alley for a good five, seven meters? I couldn’t care. The heavy throb in my toes signifies that I belted that thing pretty hard. I’m not gonna lie, it felt good. I feel so wound up, but why... Y/n’s parents! No wonder I wound up. 

Behaving “normally” is exhausting me mentally and physically. I have to be so careful all the time. I probably shoulda’ started with a more... cocky persona? That’s how she would define it anyway. Maybe Tyrone shoulda’ been a little less reserved? But then her parents wouldn’t adore me as much as they do. Well, her mom anyhow, her dad is a little trickier. 

That’s why I pestered y/n for as much information about her parents as I could get. I wanted to know what they were like so I could figure out the best persona to take on. Patricia, I figured - and figured correctly - would be the most susceptible to charm and modesty. Brandon seemed to be a typical dad. He likes a guy who is dedicated to his aspirations, career and is polite to the women in his life. Simple enough. Seeing and listening to them interact with y/n really set it in stone and told me exactly what to do. Unfortunately, it’s the most restricted I’ve ever been. Even at the circus, I wasn’t as reserved. Jeez, I woulda’ snapped years ago!

I’m striding down the alley, so deep in thought, I’ve just realised it’s drizzling. My hair feels dishevelled and strands keep getting in my eyes. I wrench the grey hood over my head to stop water running down my back. At least only the hood and end of the sleeves are cotton on this thing. The rest is leather. It’ll stand the rain for a while longer yet.

Jeez. What is wrong with me. It’s broad daylight... well it’s raining, but all the same. 

This alleyway is particularly unique because it’s like a separate, hidden street. Almost every apartment block connects to it through the fire escape. Y/n’s is special because her apartment has the lowest ladder. Few rungs up and I’m good. Easy to escape undetected, if dark enough. It usually is. That’s why I chose her apartment. It was a good choice apparently. I haven’t felt at ease like this since before... before he left. 

Bad thought. Shut up!

I’ve almost gotten to the end of the street-like alley and am becoming more aware of the piercing throb in a couple of my toes. I know it’s painful, it’d almost a searing pain if I wasn’t so ignorant towards the feeling. Over time, that sorta stuff had really just been covered in a layer of numbness. It’s as if my pain receptors have been covered with a heavy layer of fabric. Like a tarp. I know the pains there, it just isn’t a direct problem for me anymore. Some would call it a high pain threshold - and sure, that’s part of it - but it also comes from years of experience.

Just before I get to a legitimate street, I turn left into another small alleyway. Every time I enter this one, my breathing becomes heavy and it feels like all my muscles have tightened. I don’t know why, but I hate it in here.  It could be claustrophobia, but I refuse to admit I have such a feeble fear. 

It’s a darker ally, sheltered from the rain so you’d think it's dry. It’s not. There are numerous vents and drains that lead back here resulting in constant clouds of steam, mist and drips of water. This alley could only fit one person, there’s barely a gap between my shoulders and the wall. 

After manoeuvring under pipes, between vents and over grates, I arrive at my destination. The only abandoned apartment block in the neighbourhood. 

It’s a rundown piece of shit that can barely keep out a draft. However, it’s pretty handy when wanting constant entry whether this is scaling the broken fire escape, easing through a smashed window or picking the lock to the door. 

Yeah, I’m pretty equipped. This jacket has a fair few inside pockets. Perfect for a small collection of pocket knives, a standard revolver and a small lock kit. 

“C’mon now, daddy needs to get dry,” I whisper as crouch down next to the door. I prepare the two small instruments for the lock and get to work. There’s no need. The door creaked open. I roll my eyes. 

Terrific. Someone else is here. 

As I sneak through, I hear voices arguing. 

“Marty, shut up will ya? There was no noise.”

“Terrance, honey, it might be a good idea if he goes and checks hmm? Just in case.” 

Great, three people. And one with keen ears apparently. 

“Yeah. That’s right. Just in case. She’s right.” The guy who I’m guessing is Marty retorts. 

I dunno how I’m gonna deal with the trespassing trio. Maybe when the Marty guy comes round, I’ll kill him. Not with my gun, it’ll be too loud. Ugh, but a knife is too messy - even if it is an enjoyable mess, it’s not something I want to deal with yet. Maybe I’ll knock him out and tie him up. Same with the others? Might work.

“Deedee love,” - seriously? Deedee? - “we can’t keep being so paranoid. No one's there.” 

Time to make an entrance. 

I sneak around the corner, hoodie down and just to be theatric lean against the wall while a twirl a knife around my fingers. 

Yep, there’s three of them. The blond chick Deedee, and the two males. Dunno which is which, but they look pretty similar. Might be brothers.

It takes a while for anyone to notice me. They’re all too entranced by the fire they got going on. Great. Thanks for stinking up the place guys. At least put it near a vent. Sheesh.

Finally, the guy facing me looks up and goes stiff. His mouth opens to yell but I put a finger to my lips. Tellig him to keep quiet. But the other guy has seen gaper and whips around. 

“What the fu-”

“Uh-uh. Don’t swear. Not in front of the lady,” I grin as she too whips around. With bulging eyes, the trio watches me walk over and stop next to them. I swing back on my heels, hands behind my back just to mess with them. 

“You know, you're stinking out my crib. At least put the fire near a vent. Idiots.” I shake my head. They just stare. The dude with blondie starts to stutter.

“Well spit it out,” I mock.

“W-w-we don’t want no trouble man. We’ll leave. We didn’t know anyone else was using this place.”

“Oh really? So you didn’t go upstairs?” They all sake there heads. The girl is clinging on to guy number one for dear life. 

“Oh, goodie,” I say in a sing-song voice, and then drop my smile, “then leave.” I glare at him. He seems to wanna argue, but I start throwing my knife up and down. He gets the point. Hmm... can’t have them blabbering my whereabouts. They seem like the sort to shut up if I threaten ‘em enough.

Before they can react, I lunge at the dude who must be Marty, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and pressing my knife against his neck.  Not enough to kill him, but enough to pierce the skin. I feel the small drops of blood trickle past my fingers.  A little more pressure wouldn’t hurt... 

Restraint Jerome. Restraint.

“Now you two better not leave just yet. I need to talk with, Marty was it?” I ask in his ear and wait for him to nod, I nod also, “Mhm. Because if two leave, then I kill this one and come after you. Got it?” They nod vigorously. I lean in and start whispering into his ear. Occasionally looking at the others with a grin.

“Now, I’m guessing you know who I am. And you know that I’m on a lay-low at the moment. And quite frankly, it’s nice. So I’m gonna’ let you leave. But you’re not going to tell anyone I. Because trust me, I know how to find people, and I will find all of you. But if you leave, don’t come back, and don’t squeak, you live. Yeah?”

He nods. Shaking violently, he tells the others that they’re gonna leave. I let him go, but not before cutting him a little more.  

So much for restraint.

**Later**

It’s been a couple of hours and no one has come to investigate. So maybe they did keep their word. I’m a little pleased, but some action would have been fun. I shoulda’ done more to scare ‘em. 

Turns out I dislocated three of my toes. I’ve had it happen before, so I knew how to fix ‘em. Hurt like hell, but nothing I couldn’t laugh off. They’re a deep purple, and too tender to put my shoe on comfortably. So I’ve just pressed them against the cold concrete and laid back. It makes me giggle. Gotham has such a gift for turning things into an ice pack.

 Laying down like this is really making me how boring my life has become. I’ve been cooped up too long. But any funny business now would give Y/n too much trouble with her parents.

I hope she deals with them properly. At least lies convincingly. I can’t help but sigh. It’s strange, but I think I’m feeling... remorse. Ha, yeah. remorse for scaring her. I can’t deny it. She’s driving me crazy! 

She seems so insecure when she talks about herself, but there’s a confidence in her eyes that she doesn’t let escape. Even though emotionally, she’s an open book, I barely know anything about her. We barely know anything about each other. But her smile and her laugh are intoxicating. 

Oh, her laugh. It’s so free and contagious. It’s so hard not to laugh with her when I’m trying to string her on. She makes no sense and yet it’s like I’ve known her forever. Not seeing her for days is gonna be hard, but it will be necessary. 

I hope she doesn’t stay too upset. I wanna be the one to make her laugh strangely enough. I’m gonna have to give her a good sorry present, and I think I know the perfect thing.

Taglist: @sp00der-m00n @unicornwitch870 @skellingtonarmy @rockyrocket15 @thegirlofwolvesandfangs @hahaha-141 @purexuncreative @aqswdefrgthzjukilop

#Yourgingerhousemate #jerome valeska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska fanfic #jerome valeska xreader #lovingjerome #Gotham #gotham fanfiction #DC comics #Cameron Monaghan #x reader

[aubzylynn]

Nomonakalo

Word Count: 10,293 (somehow Control is still longer wtf) Warnings: Apocalyptic conditions, zombies, some angst (boatloads of fluff to make up for it though), cursing, injury to reader, mentions of trauma, mentions of being without food, shelter, etc; anxiety, pining, declarations of love, too many endearing nicknames from Bucky. If I’ve missed something major, please message me! Summary: Zombie Apocalypse AU. Set within the MCU, following the events of Captain America: Civil War. A virus has spread, causing global devastation. The dead now roam among the living. It’s been months since you first met Bucky. You’ve endured so much together. You escape the community that’s held you captive for so long. Will you be able to survive with just the two of you? A/N: Sheesh I’m nervous. Okay, I’ve got so much to say about this, but I’ll try to keep it brief. This part is literally plucked from the middle of the series I want to write. There’s a LOT that happens before this part, and there’s a lot that happens after. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them. I doubt I’ll ever actually get to write the whole series. This all takes place in Wakanda/Africa. This part was inspired by the songs Stay With Me, Salt and Shadow, and partially Hurricane by Thrice. They’re a really great band, you guys should check them out. If I ever do get to write a whole series, it’s going to be based off their entire album To Be Everywhere Is To Be Nowhere. 

Shout out to @sarahwroteathing because without her, we probably never would have gotten to this point. This definitely never would have been posted without her. <3

I spent way too long on this, and I apologize again for taking 6 months to finish it. Please comment and tell me what you think about it. Your feedback literally fuels me to continue writing. <3 Thanks, guys.

(Thanks to @sarahwroteathing for this beautiful storyboard!! I love you!!)

You slide behind a wall, closing your eyes tightly. Yanking your bandana off your mouth, you will your breathing to even out. The smell of rotting flesh and burning fire filled your nose instantly. Bucky’s in front of you moments later, chest pressed against yours like he wants to melt into you. His head hangs down, almost leaning against your shoulder.

His breath comes out harsh and warm against your skin and you have to  repress a shiver from running through you. “Did you lure them in?” you whisper, pressing into his towering form for comfort.

“Yeah,” his sweaty forehead falls to your shoulder as his hand finds purchase on your hip. He pants, trying to catch his breath, too. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Your heart trips in your chest as you fight to keep an unaffected exterior. “You, too.”

He picks himself up from you and smiles. “We need to keep moving if we’re gonna get this done before nightfall.”

You nod as he backs up, already missing the feeling of his hand on your waist. You shift your short sword in your hand as you pull your bandana over your mouth and nose. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You both take off in different directions, setting traps and corralling the dead into a centralized location. There was a pretty big herd making its way through what’s practically the compound’s backyard. The only way this diversion will work is if the flames become big enough to attract more of the dead.

Then, the group will be too busy taking care of the flames and walkers to try and find you and Bucky. That’s the plan, anyway.

You’ve been part of a community that was less than desirable. It was run by a bunch of bullies, thugs, and all around assholes. They were the worst kind of people before the world fell apart. You were lured in with the promise of shelter for the night, and then refused access to leave. Practically held prisoner by people who swore they were looking out for your well being.

The longer you stayed, the more they pushed for you both to find jobs within the community. You had to work for your keep if you wanted to stay.

But you didn’t.

You both wanted to leave from the moment sanctuary was offered. That didn’t matter to Ulysses Klaue and his gang. Once you were part of their ‘family,’ there was no getting out.

You were forced to work to earn your place. Forced away from Bucky, who had become your only reason for living. For Bucky to reunite with Steve, you had to get to a place where you could conspire with him on how to get out.

You both worked hard for what felt like forever. You both did whatever was asked of you, made sure to stay in Klaue’s good graces. It was difficult to cling to your humanity at times. He could and would ask you both to do things that made your skin crawl. With time, you earned his trust, and you had both been given pillar jobs in the community.

Bucky and his partner, Ngozi, went out scouting for new members of the community. Like the people that lured you both in. Bucky told you that there wasn’t much out there. The occasional straggler. Sometimes small groups. He would try to deter people from coming with them. He didn’t want anyone to live in these conditions. He was always a good man even though the world wanted him to be a monster.

While he had been out scouting, you were sent between inventory jobs. You handled rations of food, supplies, and weapons. It took some manipulation; but, eventually, it was easy enough to steal what you needed. Once you had something useful, you’d make a drop for Bucky to take it outside of the gates when he and his partner would go out. He slowly filled two backpacks and kept them hidden for the day that you’d finally get out.

Ngozi was injured on their last outing. He and Bucky almost didn’t make it back. Bucky wouldn’t tell you what happened out there, but they’d come back smelling like smoke and rot. You realized that if it was enough to make Bucky clam up like that, you probably didn’t want to know the details.

Klaue was going to make Bucky take another scouting trip by himself. You couldn’t allow it. The pantry was running low on certain staples, so you volunteered to go out with him to not only watch his back, but to help the community as well. Klaue saw no issue with it, and allowed the trip.

This was the first and only opportunity for you both to escape.

But you couldn’t just hop on Bucky’s motorcycle and leave. Klaue and his men would come after you and probably kill you, or worse. Once you had left the community, Bucky stopped by where your packs were hidden: a treeline that overlooked your prison. You were busy checking what was in the backpacks while Bucky scanned the woods. That’s when he spotted the herd of walking corpses that was too close to the community. That’s when his plan went into action.

There’s an abandoned warehouse near the south gates. The fence is damaged back there; it’s been a top priority to get it fixed, but there hasn’t been any resources to get the job done. Bucky’s plan was to fill the warehouse with the dead, get them as close to the weakened gates as possible then set the whole thing ablaze. There had to be a big enough distraction to ensure that it would be damn near impossible to realize you were gone.  

Bucky’s done his part beautifully: luring in groups of them at a time and setting small fires that he hopes will catch quickly. You’ve been popping off rounds from one of your guns, hoping that it’s loud enough to draw more in. Bucky didn’t want to let you participate in something so dangerous. You indulge him just this once, cheekily reminding him that you were on your own for a solid six months before you met him.

He just smiles and tweaks your nose before telling you, “You don’t have to worry about that ever again,” as he runs off to light another fire.

You watch from the treeline, mesmerized, as flames start to lick the inside of the windows. Huge, steady streams of smoke seem to find their way out of crevices of the building. The sound of the dead’s snarling is nearly drowned out by the roar of the flames. Bucky sprints back you, ready to start your life on the run. He’s smiling. You know he is, even though his bandana is covering everything beneath his eyes. You reach out to him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you both take a moment to watch the destruction you’ve caused.

“Think it’ll work?” You ask as crowds of the herd break off to push against the chain link fence.

“I hope so, doll, but I don’t wanna stick around to find out.” He tugs at your shoulder gently, urging you to grab your pack and get on the bike with him. With one last glance, you watch as the crowds of the dead bulldoze through the fence and into the community.

Bucky drove and drove until thick veils of indigo signaled the end of the day. You’d stopped twice to pillage through cars for gasoline and any supplies you might stumble upon. Bucky pulled into a town that looked quiet, relatively safe. There weren’t as many dead that roamed around here. It seemed like a good place to stop as any.

Doors barred, bags unpacked, you and Bucky stake your claims on different rooms and head off to bed with a smile and a lingering look.

You lie in somebody’s room and stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours. You try every position you can think of, try sleeping at the end of the bed…you even try sleeping on the floor. Nothing is comfortable. You’re not comfortable.

Maybe it’s knowing you’re not in a fenced in community? No, you and Bucky barricaded the doors and the windows.

Maybe your mind won’t rest because you’re alone in this room? No, you know Bucky’s in the other room. He’s in this house with you.

Maybe...maybe...maybe. You could run through thousands of scenarios in your head before the sun comes up, leaving you without rest for the night.

Something uncomfortable settles in your chest and you realize you can’t sleep alone. You won’t feel safe until you’re next to Bucky. You need to see him. You need to know this escape was real. That he’s real and he’s okay.

You clamber up from from your pallet on the floor and wrap your blanket around you. As a force of habit, you check every room for either intruders or Bucky, thankfully finding them all empty of threats.

He’s in the living room, surrounded by his nest of blankets, arm folded beneath his head as he stares at the ceiling. You know that he knows you're standing in the doorway, wanting to say something.

“You okay?” he asks before tilting his head to look at you.

“Can I--? I can’t…” You swallow your pride or guilt or whatever it is that makes you think Bucky is going to judge you. “I can’t sleep alone.”

He shifts a bit and beckons you over.  You pull your blanket a little more tightly around yourself as you make your way to him. You settle yourself a good foot away from him, wanting to give him his space; but, so desperately wanting to curl up beside him and feel safe.

He watches you bunch the blanket beneath your head as you turn to face away from him. Bucky watches as your shoulders stay tense and rigid, like you’re expecting something bad to happen.

He rolls onto his side and scoots close to you, snaking his arm beneath your head, and practically wraps himself around you. “What did they do to you?” He asks, breath fanning against your shoulder.

You push back against him, finally comforted by his chest at your back and legs tucked together. His face tucked into the nape of your neck. Every part of you is touching every part of him and it settles your anxiety tremendously. You hope he can’t hear your heart thundering or feel the butterflies licking the walls of your stomach.

You reach out, slowly entwining your fingers with his. “Nothing worse than what they did to you.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but you feel him deflate against you and pull you impossibly closer, trying his best to comfort you. You wonder if he knows there’s no other place you’d rather be than right here by his side.

You don’t try to sleep alone after that first night. Bucky is within your sights at all times, and you’re within his. Neither of you wants to wander far from the other. Regaining a sense of trust in another person was difficult. You knew in your heart that you trusted Bucky with your life, but you actions didn’t always show it.

It took a long time for you to not jump at every little sound, to learn that touch wasn’t synonymous with pain. Bucky seemed to be regaining his sense of self with you.

You tried to not feel hurt when you’d reach out to Bucky and he’d instantly snatch himself away. You knew it was the condition that you both had lived in. You caught yourself trying to tear away from him at times. You’d simply decided to try again, just moving slower or more gently.

Bucky didn’t mean to. He was surprised himself when he would jerk away from you. In his past life, he would stand still and silent, knowing that his attempt to remove himself from any situation would get him into trouble.

Maybe he was coming to terms with having choices.

Bucky didn’t understand why you kept trying to comfort him after he would jerk out of your touch. It was like you either hadn’t noticed his reaction, or completely ignored it. Either way, it made his heart swell gratefully. He would seek out your hand, or wrap his arm around your shoulders to help appease any hurt he’d thought he’d inflicted.

But his gestures only made you pine for him more.

You knew it was ridiculous, falling for him. You were probably just having some Damsel in Distress Syndrome or something. Bucky was a good guy and he saved you from that awful place. That’s all it was. Not that his laugh was the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard; or, that his mannerisms were completely unique to him. It wasn’t because he was one of the kindest souls you had ever met, even before the world turned to shit. His heart was bigger than anyone’s had a right to be. And it definitely wasn’t because he was a beautiful man. That was just a bonus.

Yeah, nope. You’re perfectly content to lie to yourself about your feelings for him. That’s for sure.

Your heart seemed to always be racing around him. His smile came much easier now that it was just the two of you out on your own again. You always found him scanning the landscape for any threat. He said he felt like you were being watched. You had been on the run for weeks, now; but, you weren’t sure if it was paranoia that lead you to believe you were being watched, or if it was simply true.

You stuck close together, relying on each other more than you had ever done with anyone. Strict watch schedules were put into place if you both stopped somewhere for more than a short rest.

You’ve come to a stop in a little town. Bucky hid his motorcycle underneath debris just in case someone else happened to stumble into town. He didn’t want someone to steal it and for you both to have to walk everywhere again.

It was your idea to split up and cover more ground. There wasn’t much that looked like it hadn’t been picked clean. It seemed easy enough; you’d be within shouting distance.

You didn’t feel comfortable leaving Bucky’s side, but you cropped it up to your paranoia. Nobody else was in town! And Bucky would be by your side in seconds if you needed him. He shared an uneasy look with you before squeezing your arm in silent consent to go.

You were careful. More so than usual because you knew Bucky wasn’t directly behind you.  

Bucky didn’t feel right about letting you go scavenging on your own. He didn’t like not being able to see you, to be within arms reach if you needed him. Every twenty minutes, you were both supposed to check in with each other to make sure you both were safe.

It had been longer than the twenty minute mark.

Bucky tried to ease his anxiety. Maybe you hadn’t seen the time, maybe you had found something… Maybe someone had found you.

He couldn’t take it. He ran to the last place he had seen you. Bucky bursts through the door to find you handing your short sword to Ulysses Klaue. His heart drops to his stomach to see the fear and anger written on your face.

Klaue grasps your arm cruelly and yanks you in front of him, shielding most of his body with yours. Your sword taken in his hand, the blade rests against your neck. “Ah, good. I was just telling your partner that I’d hope I’d see you before she died.”

“Bucky--” You’re cut off by the blade sinking into your skin. Not enough to cut you, but enough to know one wrong move will make you bleed. You hoped your apologetic expression got your words across.

Bucky inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself enough to not charge at the man that held you captive. He knew all Klaue had to do was bring his hand down and your life would be gone. Bucky couldn’t have that. He couldn’t live with himself.

“Unpack your trousers. All your weapons go to the ground and slide them over. D’you hear me?” Klaue barks when Bucky doesn’t move.

He goes slowly, trying to devise his plan. Bucky takes his pistol out of the holster and slides it across the floor. Klaue’s favoring his left leg as he stands, rarely shifting to his right. Bucky stays crouched to the ground, slowly emptying his backpack and pockets of all his knives, guns, and other weapons.

Your eyes are locked on Bucky, watching as he practically drags each round of ammunition, each pocket knife, and more from their hiding spots. As he rises, he taps his right knee. Your brow furrows as you search his face for answers; but, he’s focused once again on the man that’s holding you captive.

Bucky swallows hard and says, “We don’t have to do this.”

Klaue brings you back towards him, your back touching the planes of his chest. “No, we do. You see, you took something precious from me, so I’m going to take something precious from you. That’s how it works, isn’t it? The number one rule: one for one.” You’re watching Bucky watching Klaue, trying to understand what his plan was. Klaue’s breath is hot on your skin when he continues. “That was our HOME! Our home! And you burnt it to the ground like it was NOTHING!” he’s screaming in your ear, making you turn away and wince at the blade at your throat.

“What I’m gonna do is take her apart piece...by...piece. And you are gonna stand there and watch until you beg me to kill you.” He drops your sword to the ground but you dare not move, paralyzed by the fear of what he might do. Klaue’s hand runs up your arm, the handle of a knife in his palm. You do your best to swallow your fears, trying to remember to calm your breathing. You look to Bucky for any kind of reassurance, but he’s still glaring at your captor. You just want Bucky to look at you. He clenches his jaw as the blade of the knife skims your arm. Again, it’s not enough to cut you, but you feel the edge of it.

“D’you remember what you told me? That she was your only reason for living? That she was your everything? I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think you’d become one of us. That you’d become my family. I’d had Paki and Noah make a prosthetic arm for you! So that you could hold this one in your arms, so that you could be complete.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. He’s trying so hard to keep himself composed for your sake. He wasn’t worried about what Klaue was saying, you had to know how he felt about you eventually. He was, however, pissed that the tender subject of holding you had been brought up. Bucky wasn’t insecure about his missing limb, but the way Klaue talked about it made it seem like Bucky wasn’t a whole person without his arm...that you surely couldn’t see any value in him without one.

Your sharp inhale caught Bucky’s attention. Klaue’s knife dragged across your skin, cutting deeply. Anger flared up inside of him, but he couldn’t help the little pinprick of pride he felt knowing that you were in control enough to not scream and cry out. He knew you wouldn’t want to give Klaue the satisfaction of knowing he hurt you.

“Flaying used to be really big. I don’t see why it hasn’t kept up. Especially now that the world has gone backwards.”

Bucky’s gaze meets yours. You start to panic, silently pleading with him to get you out of this situation. He’s so strong and absolute, his face doesn’t betray the fear he’s feeling. He looks down, dragging your gaze with his, and shifts his right knee and taps it for further emphasis.

His knee? Klaue’s knee? His leg? What?

You feel the way he’s holding you captive, doing your best to ignore the feeling of hot liquid running down your arm. Klaue falters a bit when he shifts to his right leg...when he has to shift. You feel him leaning heavily into his left side. Something’s wrong with his right leg.

You know you should disarm him first, but you’re so scared. You lift your leg and slam your booted heel into Klaue’s knee, causing him to yelp in pain and jab his knife into your side. You cry out, more out of shock than actual pain, but the force knocked you off balance.

Bucky growls your name and shoots into action, diving across the floor to retrieve his gun, slamming the magazine back into place. Klaue is on the ground, grappling for another weapon, spewing expletives. Bucky pulls the hammer back, barrel of his gun pointed directly between Klaue’s eyes.

He raises his hands slowly, breathing raggedly through clenched teeth. “You’ll never make it out there.”

Bucky hasn’t felt this cold in a long time. It feels almost natural to have his target beneath him. Almost like he’s Hydra’s Winter Soldier again.

He shakes the thought away. “You’re wrong,” he mutters, pulling the trigger. Bucky stares at the body for another moment, ensuring that he shot him in the head so that he wouldn’t reanimate.

He rushes to you, cursing under his breath when he finds you’ve removed the knife from your side. There’s a constant stream of blood soaking your shirt. “Babydoll, listen, I gotta tell you somethin’--”

“Don’t--” you gasp, wincing at the pain in your side. “Don’t you dare give me the ‘I love you slash you can’t die’ speech.”

Bucky’s heart stutters in his chest. How long have you known? Why hadn’t you said anything? Would you not want to be his partner anymore? He didn’t know if he wanted to fight this world without you by his side.

You cough violently and then growl and grit your teeth. “I’m not dyin’, you hear me? I refuse.”

Bucky chuckles, his fingers deftly pushing your hair away from your face. “You’re not. I’m gonna make sure you don’t.”

“Buck -- we gotta find shelter.” Your eyes go round with fear.

He nods in understanding before gathering the weapons that were strewn across the floor. Bucky leans down, offering his hand to help you up. Your hand slips into his. Bucky’s brow furrows at how warm your skin feels. As he pulls you up, you bite your lip in a weak attempt to stifle your pained whimper. He slings your backpack over your good shoulder; he feels panicked, wrapping his one good arm around you to keep you balanced. His hand is too close to your wound, so you grab it and place it on your hip. You swallow harshly and look up at him apologetically, hoping he’ll understand without words being spoken.

He does. Of course, he always does. Bucky secures you to his side, as you both set of slowly, accommodating your wounds. You’ve only taken a dozen steps before you hear them. The deep growls erupt faintly around you both. Bucky grips your hip a little tighter, trying to reassure you.

It hits you that while Bucky’s holding you, you’re the only option you both have to defend yourselves from the dead. With one hand clamped around your wound and the other in a death grip around Bucky’s ribs, you start to panic. He feels your anxiety rolling off you, runs through any possible scenario where you both make it out alive. There’s no way you can outrun them. Your ribs and arm are bleeding too badly for you to fight. He comes to the conclusion that he has to put you somewhere safe so he can take care of the dead.

He leads you to a low standing wall and sets you down on top of it. “Buc--what are you doing?!” You shriek, trying to cling to him as he removes himself from your side. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Bucky kisses your forehead, his fingers tracing down from your temple to your jaw. He pulls your billao short sword out from its holster on your backpack, flipping it in his hand as as he takes off towards the few roamers that had appeared.

You want to yell and beg him to come back, but you know noise will only draw more of them towards you. Your vision suddenly gets blurry. You blink hard and rapid, trying to clear it. You have to stay focused. Stay aware.

You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands, stars popping behind your eyelids. Your ribs throb as soon as you release the pressure over your wound. Suddenly, a hand smoothed over your shoulder, causing you to try to jerk out of the person’s grasp. You realize with a sigh of relief that it’s Bucky and grab his hand and squeeze it.

When you open your eyes, you find Bucky smiling at you. He’s fine. He’s alive. He’s a little bloodier than when he left, but he’s okay.

He coaxes you to release his hand so that he can wrap his arm around you again. Once you’re on your feet again, you’re moving as quickly as you can to the nearest building.

You feel woozy, nauseous. Your legs aren’t cooperating--not actually moving you forward. Bucky’s shirt slips from your grasp, the world around you blurs before darkness swallows you completely.

“Ba--babydoll, stay with me!” Bucky squeezes your hip, jostling you in an attempt to keep you awake. You fall limp in his grasp and he curses. He panics, frantically looking around for a place for you to rest, for him to patch you up. He bends down quickly, wrapping his arm around your legs and hoisting you over his shoulder before taking off at a near sprint to get you inside and safe.

He kicks in the door of the closest home. As soon as he’s inside with you, he slams the door and locks it. Bucky deposits you on a couch before making a full sweep of the house to ensure your safety. When the search comes up empty, he makes his way back to you, digging the first aid kit out of his backpack.

A whine punches its way from your lips as Bucky lifts your shirt to assess the damage. Your skin is mottled purple and blue, but your wound doesn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. Your arm, however, is still bleeding. He needs to wrap it.

“S’cold.” You whine, trying to pull from Bucky’s grasp.

He watches you, concern bubbling in his chest. Your skin has adopted a sheen of sweat--he runs his fingers across your jaw and neck, feeling how hot you’ve become. Your eyes flutter open while you continue your attempted escape. Bucky catches your gaze and smiles, what he hopes is reassuringly. “Hey. Hey, beautiful. Stay with me, okay?”

“‘M cold, Bucky,” you mumble, your hand grips his forearm, “need a blanket.”

He smiles, ducking his head to ensure you hold his gaze. “Okay. Okay, sugar, I’ll getcha one. Lemme take care of this first, okay?”

“Mmkay…”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky grabs one of his extra shirts and soaks it with a water bottle. “Hey, talk to me, sugar.” He dabs at your ribs, shushing you as you try to squirm away from the cloth. He feels like he’s grasping at straws -- all normal topics of discussion have left his brain. He blurts out the first and only question he can think of: “How did you know I had feelings for you?”

In all his days, Bucky has never seen anything as sweet as your smile. A weak giggle escapes you, your hand gripping his forearm just a little tighter. “I didn’t. I was tryin’ to be funny.”

Bucky’s smile felt forced and fake. He hoped you didn’t notice, but his heart felt heavy. Of course you wouldn’t feel the same way. He tried to shove his feelings into a box, get them out of his mind. He needs to focus on getting you cleaned up and bringing your fever down.

“Hey,” your voice is so small, it startles him how fragile you sound. His eyes draw across your face before settling on your eyes. You smile, “I’ve got feelings for you, too, Bucky.”

He feels light as a feather--he’s taken the most dramatic one-eighty of his life. He beams at you before leaning down to press his forehead against yours. You hum happily, reaching up to smooth your fingers through his hair as he holds you close.

He doesn’t want to pull away -- what he wants is to lean further into you and steal a kiss from your soft lips. Now that he knows you feel something for him, it doesn’t seem like such a crazy dream. It’s obtainable, you’re obtainable; which is more than he could have ever hoped for.

Your nose slides against his and for the briefest of moments, he thinks you have the same idea; but your whole body squirms and shivers in what you think is the cold air around you. When Bucky moves away, his skin is tacky with your dried blood. That’s when he gets a good look at you. Your face is smeared with your blood, sweat and dirt. Your skin seems to be at war with itself, looking sunken and ashen; yet it also had a dusting of color from the heat radiating from within you.

He pulls away just enough to take his makeshift wash cloth and dab it across your face. Your hand is propped on his shoulder, fingers still playing with the ends of his hair. He revels in the feeling of it, knowing that even though your eyes are closed and you look close to death that you’re still here, still fighting with him.

You feel the cold rag drag from your face to your neck, then to your arms and hands. You lie as still as you can, wishing you were back home cuddled up in your bed with all of your blankets and Netflix. You want to sleep. God, do you want to sleep. But you fight it with every ounce of will you have. You have to stay awake for Bucky. He just...he just told you something important. You have to stay awake for that important thing. You can’t die because you’ll come back…

Your eyes shoot open, frantically reaching for Bucky, trying to pull him closer to you. He hushes you, placing something cold and damp on your forehead. “Shh, shh, I got you, darlin’.”

“Bucky,” you croak, fingers winding into his hair again. “You can’t--don’t let me turn into one of those things, okay? Promise me.”

He sighs, shoulder slumping before he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your smile is small as you revel in it, in this tender moment. He gently returns his forehead to yours, the cloth a small barrier between you both, as his fingers tracing along your arm to soothe you. “I promise. But you’re not gonna die, remember? I won’t let you.”

“But--” Your breathing picks up again. “If, if it--if I do, you gotta take me out, Bucky--okay?”

“Okay,” he soothes, “okay, honey, breathe.” He hushes you, bringing himself closer to you, being conscious of your side. Bucky breathes in deliberately deep and slow breaths so that you’ll mimic him.

Slowly, your fingers release his hair. Your hand slides to his neck and rests there. You don’t feel nearly as frantic, but sleep threatens to overtake you completely. Your eyelids droop heavily before you snap them open again. Bucky sounds far, far away when he tells you to get some rest, that he’ll watch over you. You nod weakly and try to pull Bucky down to lay with you.

He chuckles, removing your hand from his neck. He holds it in his hand before placing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.  “Let me patch you up, darlin’, okay? Then I’ll lay down with you.”

The small smile that you give him is enough to make Bucky fall deeper into the void. He watches your eyelids flutter closed before he places your hand on your chest and gets to work cleaning your wounds.

The skin on your ribs is swollen, bruised, and tinted an angry red. It’s becoming infected, he assumes. He roots around in his backpack, hoping to find something useful. He pulls out aspirin and wakes you up, practically forces it down your throat before coaxing you back to sleep.

Bucky cleans your side again before ripping a makeshift bandage and covering your wound. Then wraps what he has left around your arm, cinching it tightly. Next, he sets off to find anything that could help bring your fever down. He gets you down to one layer of clothing and sits beside you, making sure the rags that cover your forehead and neck stay cold.

It took nearly half the night for your fever to finally break. Bucky stayed diligently by your side, never complaining, never wishing for sleep. The only times he would leave you side were when he would check the windows to monitor the dead outside, and to check the doors to make sure they were still sufficiently barred.

When he returned, he found you barely awake, captivated by the smile growing on your lips. You reached out to him, fingers fluttering in a silent invitation. He settles himself on your right side against the back of the couch to let your wound breathe. You nuzzle sleepily into his chest and it takes everything inside Bucky to not grab you and kiss you.

“I had a weird dream--” you stiffen beside him, like you didn’t realize what you were saying until it had left your mouth. Bucky shifts to watch you gnaw on your bottom lip. A blush dusted your cheeks and neck, but he wasn’t sure if it was from your passing fever or not.

“What was it about?” He prompts.

Plucking at the threads of his shirt, you adamantly avoid eye contact. You curse yourself for talking at all. You knew you were exhausted, dehydrated, and probably still out of it from however much blood you’d lost. You could probably release all your inner demons if the right questions were asked.

“I dreamt I told you a pretty big secret.” You hear yourself say. What the hell! You’re going to strangle yourself if you end up telling him everything.

He chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours, hand gently caressing the line of your jaw. “Can’t be any bigger than the one I told you last night.”

Your brows contract, searching his cerulean gaze for his meaning. Slowly, from the foggy depths of your mind, you remember the cold rag dragging across your face, his sweet smile. His face was so close to yours, like it is now...like he was going to kiss you.

“I’ve got feelings for you, too, Bucky.”

He sees the moment you realize and remember what you told him the night before. Bucky suddenly feels shy, smile only quirking one side of his face. The air seemed to feel thick and charged in a matter of seconds. Your eyes stare right back into his, blinking slowly, seemingly waiting.

Bucky nuzzles his nose against yours in what he hopes is comforting. You still haven’t said anything and it’s making his heart race.

“So...d’you ha-have feelings--?”

“I do.” He smiles and watches the color spread to your ears as you continue to fiddle with his shirt and try to contain your smile. “Hey,” he starts, commanding your attention. You turn your gaze to him and it nearly knocks him breathless, “do you ha--”

“I do.” You echo, biting your lip, somewhat embarrassed by the intensity of your confirmation.

A wide grin breaks across his face. It was infectious, you were powerless to it.  You stare at each other, breathing the same air, the same longing and anticipation, just waiting for the other to move first.

Bucky smiled, his tongue catching his lip before bringing it between his teeth. “May I?”

Heat spreads across your face again, and you nod as your eyes dart from his to his lips.

Bucky leans in slowly, giving you more than enough time to tell him if you didn’t want this. You really just want to tug on his collar and yank him to you, but you’re revelling in the tension.

The first kiss is chaste and fragile, prompting a second, then a third. Sweet, soft pecks that turn into something more substantial and breathtaking. Each kiss says everything you’ve been to frightened to, reassuring and sure.

When the need for air is too great, you pull away from him, completely unable to contain your giggles. He laughs with you, too; stealing kisses as he does.

Days go by until you’re finally strong enough to start travelling again. The plan was still in place. Operation Reunite Bucky and Steve was still a go, but you both needed to sit down and flesh out exactly how you were going to get to the United States...or simply find a way to communicate with Steve to let him know that Bucky was alive.

But, for now, until you figure it out, you’re both content to learn about the other. To figure out what makes you tick, what you want from this relationship, what you want from each other.

You had so many late night pillow talks about life after the world repaired itself.

“Did you ever plan how many kids you wanted when you were little?”

“Ten.”

You shift to look him in the eyes, disbelieving giggles escaping from your mouth. “You want ten kids? Are you sure? Think about it, Bucky. That’s not practical.”

“To hell with practical.” He brushes your hair from your neck and shoulder as you lie back down and meditate on his words. You could create whatever life you want, here in this moment. It doesn’t have to be real, but it’s yours. Bucky’s voice cuts through your thoughts, “I’ll consider seven, but that’s as low as I’m going.”

You turn and bury your face in Bucky’s neck, trying to hide your laugh. “You’d better plan on helping me with all these midnight diaper changes, then, mister.”

“Wouldn’t dream otherwise, dollface.”

You hum in content and grin, “What happens if we get neighbors that have twelve kids?”

He shifts to meet your gaze as his thumb trails along your arm. “Well, then, we’ll have to have thirteen.”

“Dear God!” you scoff, swallowing your laugh, “Bucky--”

He smiles. “Don’t start, you’re more competitive than I am.”

You try and fail to contain the smile cracking across your face. “Okay, well, what about all of our pets?”

“We have pets, now?”

“All of them.” You smile into his skin, tracing patterns along his chest. “I’m bringing home every stray I find.”

“Where are we gonna put all these animals and children?”

“Mmm...maybe you’d better build us a big enough house. With a wrap-around porch and a yard big enough for the dogs to run and play in… Oh! And purple shutters.”

“Purple shutters?”

“Yeah. A deep, royal purple. And a garden.”

Bucky smiles into your hair and hugs you close to him. “Anything you want, doll.”

You share so many moments like this, simply being with one another. There’s no living enemies left to chase after you. Nothing to stop you from trying to build your lives together, to getting Bucky back to the Avengers.

Fate, Karma, Destiny...whatever it was seemed to be on your side. You were fully stocked, better so than you’d ever been, but something told you that you needed to go into town.

Bucky was against it at first, but conceded when he realized he would need more gas for his bike. Once in town, you grab things here and there, buzzing happily when Bucky starts picking up things as well. A nearly-empty notebook caught his eye, and a picture frame. Such trivial little things all came together to make your heart soar.

When you exit one home in favor of another is when you see her.

“I’m Nakia, one of the Dora Milaje.”

You can’t help but think it’s a trap. You haven’t seen another living soul since Klaue, and that felt like a distant memory. Bucky moves in front of you, “What are you doing here?”

Recognition washes over her features, her stance softens some. “Barnes? We weren’t sure if you had survived.” Nakia’s relief is palpable.

You shift your gaze between Bucky and Nakia. “You know each other?”

“He will not know me. I am a sworn protector of my King and Wakanda. T’Challa kept Barnes safe after the Accords.”

Bucky’s still looking at Nakia warily, trying to determine if she can be trusted. You’re elated. “This is great! Do you know where the king is? Is there somewhere safe--?”

Nakia smiles gently. “We have built a community that is strong and self sufficient. It’s as if the devastation never happened--” Nakia cut herself off at the popping sound behind you. Bucky drew his gun instantly, eyes darting around wildly, trying to find the intruder. A bright orange light flew into the sky, trail of ash and smoke following it. You stare at it curiously.

“I have to go,” panic rises in her voice as she stares at the falling flare. “Three miles east. You’ll find it.”

You want to ask her more, even follow her to see if it’s true; but, she’s running in the direction of the flare. By the time you tear your gaze from the sky, she’s already gone.

You look back at Bucky, finding a deep frown set on his face. “Sweetheart, don’t--”

“But you heard her, Buck! There’s a community with members of the Dora Milaje! They’re good people. Don’t you get a good feeling from this--?”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m just saying maybe we should play it safe and check it out first.”

“How are we going to check it out if we don’t go there, huh?”

He breaks eye contact with you, frustrated that you’re not listening. You’re just so ready to be part of something else...wasn’t this enough for you? After your last encounter with a large group, why aren’t you more wary?

You take note of his silence, biting your tongue. “We need to head back. It’s getting dark.”

Once the doors were barred, he watched as you comb your fingers through your hair, leaning a bit more heavily into the couch cushions. He wondered if you missed your living room, your couch… He still wondered if you missed your old life.

Your head lolls to the side, smiling softly when you catch him staring at you. When he doesn’t reciprocate the soft upturn of your lips, you know he’s lost in his thoughts. You watch him a bit longer, noting the way his eyes express whatever it is he’s dreaming up. His stormy blue eyes stare into the general place that you occupy, but are unfocused and so far away.

He really is beautiful, you think as you take your fill. His chapped lips surrounded by his unkempt facial hair. You watch his fingers as they absently comb through his short beard. He’s a bit more confident in handling himself without his prosthetic arm. Even the way he stands suggests he’s not over compensating for the heavy appendage. Your eyes drag to his hair that’s neatly tucked behind his ear. It’s grown quite a bit since you met him, and you can’t help but wonder exactly who he was before he was put into that cryogenic freezer.

“Hey,” you call softly, startling him from his thoughts. You wait until his eyes come back into focus and smile a bit wider when you see that he’s present. “I saw some scissors and a razor in the bathroom.  D’you want me to cut your--?”

“No,” his voice is so soft, but rough from lack of use. His answer is gentle. It causes a lopsided smile to form as a response to his answer. “No, I think m’gonna clean up though.”  

“Okay,” you reply softly, watching him retreat towards the back of the house.

He’s gone for all of thirty seven seconds before you start worrying your lip between your teeth. You pull in a deep breath, trying to focus on now. The way this house smelled, how your nails dig into your palm, not biting your lip too hard... Bucky’s in the back room. He’s here. You’re not alone. You’re not facing this world alone. There’s a plan. There’s goals. You’re not aimlessly wandering anymore. You’re okay.

You stuff your panic down as best you can. You shut your eyes tightly until you see stars popping behind your eyelids. Inhaling slowly, you count to five; hold it deep in your chest for three long, long seconds; then release it in ten agonizingly slow seconds. You repeat until you’re feeling a little light headed. Shame bubbles up your throat, pushing tears to your eyes. You sniff sharply, pushing the heel of your hands into your eyes, willing the negative feelings away.

You can’t fall apart. Not right now. You’re on watch. Bucky’s not on your six, you have to stay vigilant, alert, stable. Wiping at your eyes quickly, you push your emotions back into their little box.

Your eyes sweep across the room as the realization hits you that this is the safest place you probably could have a breakdown. All of the windows have been boarded up. Doors are locked and barred to the best of yours and Bucky’s abilities. Nobody would suspect there’s people in this house by just looking at it from the outside…

You shake your head, sniffing away the last of your emotional outburst. The moment’s gone. You don’t feel the need to cry anymore.

Bucky clears his throat from the hallway, announcing his presence. He still startles you, but thankfully you don’t draw your gun or knife on him anymore. Your little jolt that comes before the sea of calm and comfort is enough of a price to pay.

“What d’you think?” He asks, stepping into the living room.

Your mouth falls open before quirking up into a tiny smile. He’s shaved. Bucky’s jaw is as smooth as the day he was born and you bask in it. You’ve never seen him without facial hair. Your eyes trace along his angled jaw, his cheekbones are a bit more pronounced now that they’re free from the scraggly scruff.

He fidgets, inching closer to the couch. His hand comes up to cradle his jaw, running over the skin gently. His brows pinched with worry. “Doll?”

You gasp quietly, realizing you hadn’t answered him. “You--you, uh.” You scrub a hand across your face, mentally kicking yourself for forgetting how to use words. “Shit, dude, you clean up real good.” The pure, unadulterated awe in your voice causes a light blush to dust its way across Bucky’s cheeks and neck. You shift to stand on your knees, beckoning Bucky to come closer. Once he’s within reach, you touch his face, giggling at the smoothness. “Who knew this handsome face was under all that scruff?” Cupping his jaw, you pull him in for a chaste kiss. “M’gonna miss that beard burn, though.”

Bucky snorts, smile pulling across his face as he nudges your nose with his. His smile is even more breathtaking as he pulls you close in an intimate, relaxed hug. His hand slides from your hip, up your spine, and fans out across your shoulder blade, holding you tight to him. You wind both arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck. Sighing into his skin, you’re relieved to have a private moment without worrying about who or what is around you.

Bucky chuckles and pulls away. “Damn,” he says, shaking his head.

Your hands slide to his shoulders as you look at him questioningly. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Goddamn hand,” he gestures with his metal shoulder. “Swore I had it for a minute. I felt it slide against you -- I tickled you, or thought I did. When you didn’t jerk out of my arms, I realized...remembered it was gone.” His tone drops with a heavy sigh, weighed down with the memory of how he lost it.

Your right hand slides down to the black sling that still contains the metal edges and wires. Watching your actions for a moment, you realize you don’t know how to console him. You don’t know what he’s feeling. You look back up to his face, heart racing to find that he’s already looking at you. Seeing him without his facial hair was going to take some getting used to. You were going to be that flustered little bird all over again.

“I’m sorry,” you finally mumble, meeting his cerulean gaze.

“Don’t be.” he replies smiling softly, pushing your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. “You hungry?” he asks, pulling away to rummage through his backpack.

You shrug, falling to lie on the couch. “Sure, if you are.”

He smiles, “I’m always hungry. Damn metabolism. How brave do you feel tonight?”

You peek at him around the couch. “Is that a trick question, or..?”

Bucky shakes his head, smile firmly in place. He pulls out a can and holds it out to you. You take it and turn it in your hands. “Is it Mystery Can Night already?!” You ask with as much injected enthusiasm as possible.

He grabs the can opener out of your pack before plopping on the couch beside you. “Only if you want it to be. I think we have some jerky in your bag. And I know we have those peas and the Chef stuff--”

“That’s celebratory. We can’t just eat Chef Boyardee ravioli on any given Tuesday anymore. But I swear, Bucky, if this ends up being beets or something I might cry.” You wail jokingly. You’re honestly thankful for whatever you both wind up with. It’s just nice to pretend to do something normal...like being snobby with your choice of food.

“Do you want to celebrate tonight? I found something--” He shoves the can opener in your hands before lunging over the couch and scurrying to the back room. When he returns, he’s holding a glass bottle, sloshing around the amber liquid.

Your face lights up with surprise as he comes to sit beside you again. “Where’d you find it?”

He shrugs his metal shoulder. “It was in the back bedroom. I went snooping around before I shaved. I’ve got a couple more treasures back there.”

You pull the cork out of the bottle, smelling it before offering it to Bucky. He shakes his head and motions for you to take the first drink. You pull from the bottle, letting the drink sit in your mouth for a moment before you swallow it and hiss at the burn sliding down your throat. You cough behind your hand, offering the bottle again to Bucky.

He chuckles, watching you. “Y’okay?” He asks with a teasing smile as he pulls his own drink.

“Yeah,” You cough again. “‘S been a while, that’s all. That’s some good stuff.”

He swallows his mouthful, reveling in the burn the alcohol provides. “Alright, whadda we got?”

Turns out that Mystery Can Night was a success. It was some kind of clam chowder, or something, Bucky says. It was something substantial. The last Mystery Can Night you had was a sad can of Chicken Noodle Soup with next to no noodles in it and no chicken. But whatever this was (you pretended it was chicken alfredo), it had protein in it. It felt like a full meal. You didn’t care what it was. You got to share a meal and a drink with Bucky. You were much better off now than you were when you first found him.

After the can of something is gone, Bucky voices his concerns about following after Nakia. But, he also tells you he’s willing to check it out in the morning. You wrap your arms around him, and he offers to take the first watch for the night. You tell him he doesn’t have to, that you’re both safe for the night (something you were still trying to convince yourself from your episode earlier); but, he wasn’t having it. You decided that he could take the first watch after a round or two of charades.

He watches, amused, as you act out some sort of animal or character. You’d cross your eyes and make a silly face when he was too bewildered to make real guess and pull a genuine laugh from his chest. He can’t decide what you’re imitating. He feels warm, fuzzy...happy?

Happy.

Yeah...yeah that’s what he’s feeling.

Your laughter warms him from within, much more effectively than the bourbon had. He wrinkles his nose at you when you chastise him for not guessing that you’re obviously a panda. When you announce you get another turn, he doesn’t argue with you. He could watch you with this light in your eyes forever. This smile on your face could keep him captive for the rest of his days.

Once he catches you yawning behind your hand, he tells you to go lay down in the back bedroom. You smile cheekily at him, telling him that you’re going to take advantage of the first real bed you’ve seen in a long time. Leaning down to where he’s sitting, you kiss lips sweetly again and again, giggling every time he moves back in for another.

You pull away with finality, licking your lips and smiling bashfully down at Bucky; and he wonders how his heart hasn’t given out on him yet. You’re everything good that the world has left behind, and he’s the privileged one to see it.

You trail your fingers across his naked jaw again, loving the feeling of his smooth skin, as you head to the back room. Toeing off your boots, you jump on the bed -- giggling uncontrollably as you bounce then sink into the soft mattress. Rolling to your side, you sigh deeply as you will your anxiety away. Like before, you know Bucky’s here. He’s just in another room. You pull in slow, deep breaths in the hopes that you’ll relax yourself into sleep.

But something isn’t right. You’re comfortable enough to sleep; hell, you’re even tired enough to sleep. Something just feels ultimately...wrong. It’s not something that can be fixed by another pillow, or counting sheep. Bucky still isn’t beside you.

You get up, snagging a pillow to take with you as you make your way quietly back to the living room where you find Bucky in the same spot on the couch flipping through a book with mild interest. You just watch him. You’re struck stupid again at the sight of him shaved with a slight smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth as he goes through the book.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, glancing up at you.

You grin sheepishly, embarrassed for getting caught. As you make your way around the couch, you toss the pillow beside Bucky. “Yeah, I can’t sleep without you.” You admit, picking the pillow up as you plop down next to him, leaning into his side.

“I don’t think you really tried.”

“I did!” you scoffed, “I was back there forever trying to sleep.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, keeping his thumb between the pages of the book to mark his place. “Darlin’...you were only back there for ten minutes. At most.”

You ignore him, finding it hard to believe what he says. “What are you reading?”

He chuckles as you snuggle down into his side. “Sense and Sensibility.”

“Read it to me?” you yawn, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s middle.

He smiles, kisses the top of your head and starts reading.

It’s not until you’re sleeping soundly, that his doubts come out to plague him. He knows you love him. Neither of you have said the words yet, but he thinks he feels it in everything you do. He hopes you feel his love for you, too. But, he can’t help but wonder what would happen when the world heals? When people reclaim society--and not in the way that Klaue’s group had. When things were set right?

Would you stay with him if he wasn’t the only option left? Would you ask if what you have is real? Or realize that it’s just...convenient?

That thought alone is enough to break Bucky, but his mind is a playground for every berating thought he could ever have. He wasn’t enough for you, and he truly believed that. He’s terrified that you’ll stumble upon someone else someday...someone better. It wouldn’t be hard. He wasn’t a good man. Bucky has so much red in his ledger. It’s a wonder that you haven’t abandoned him already from the stories he’s shared with you.

He doesn’t know what he would do without you. These months that you’ve been with him have changed him for the better. He’s made so much progress. You’ve seen parts of him that certain people could only dream of.

It was too much for him to bear. The weight of his fears made his chest pull tight. He couldn’t breathe.

You stirred beside him, tightening your hold around his middle. You mumbled his name in your sleep and it was enough to break him from his thoughts. He puts the book down on his leg to keep his place. Once his hand is free, his fingers flutter over your cheek, brushing your hair away from obscuring your face.

Was it terrible of him to hope that the world stayed like this forever?

“You’re overthinking again.” You mumble sleepily.

His heart skips a beat, as it always does when he hears your tired voice. “Am not.”

You let out a breath that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re also a terrible liar.”

He places his hand on your shoulder, letting his thumb draw circles into your skin. “Go back to sleep, darlin’.”

You keep your eyes closed, cheek still pressed into Bucky’s chest. “Not a chance in hell. You’re sending out distress vibes hard enough to wake me up. What’s wrong?”

Bucky’s quiet for a beat longer than he normally is. You lift your head from him and look at him sleepily. His bright blue eyes bore right back into yours. He’s warring with something. As long as you’ve been with him, this bond that you share, it’s still not enough to know exactly what he’s thinking and it kills you. You wish you knew every single piece of him.

“Just nervous about tomorrow.”

You know he’s lying. You watch whatever doubt he’s having shrink away in his eyes and your Bucky comes back. You lean forward and kiss him softly, hoping that he understand that he can trust you with anything...that you’re never going anywhere.

When the need for air is too great, you pull just far enough away to press your forehead against his. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but we’ll be okay.” When you open your eyes, he’s already watching you.

“I know,” he says with a smile flitting across his face. “What if this place isn’t what we think it is?”

Your hands slide up to Bucky’s jaw and you just hold his face. You refuse to move, loving that you can be so close to him without worrying about the world around you. “I don’t think it is. I have a good feeling about this place. Neither one of us felt right about going with that search party so long ago.”

“They didn’t really give us a choice.”

“Exactly. If this community is as awful as the last one, I know we’ll get out of there, too. We make a good team, Bucky.”

“And what if it’s the best thing we could ever hope for?” he asks, the doubt from before peeks through the concern in his eyes.

You lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Then we’re one step closer to reuniting you and Steve.”

He nods, unsure of what else to say.

The sun is practically up when you finally convince Bucky to sleep at least for a little while. His rest is fitful, you try to comfort and hush him while he sleeps. You try singing to him, combing your fingers through his hair. It seems to work for a little bit.

You wish you knew what was going on in his head. He’s clearly struggling with something...you wish he would trust you with whatever it was.

When he wakes, you both pack up what little you have and head east just like Nakia said. She told you that it wasn’t far, but didn’t give specifics on how long you would be travelling.

Even in his silence, you could tell that something was still eating at Bucky inside. You bump your shoulder into his playfully before carefully entwining your fingers. He glanced over at you and grinned when he saw your self-satisfied smirk. You squeeze his hand, hoping the contact helped calm his nerves.

When he squeezes back, you know what it does.

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[lordofthebigtimesupernatural]

Hi! I don't know if you still are taking prompts but if you are, then I have this one: I have this idea in my mind that Keith (in some point of his life) was bullied pretty badly and he doesn’t tell anybody because he is scare, but one day Shiro found out this (I don’t know how but he does) and he is just so furious and angry and he just want his son safe. Thank you❤️💕

Ahh, I think this prompt might hit a bit close to home for many of us. However, it was angsty and hard for me to write. But you guys should know me, so just expect a fluffy ending despite this prompt. Furious!Protective!Daddy Shiro is the best kind of dad. Thanks for this nonny. I hope you enjoy!

x.V.x

              Bullying was always different in the movies.

              It’s never like that.

              Rather, it’s usually worse. Much worse.

              Keith knew that first hand. Every day had been hell for him and it wasn’t just at school anymore. It was every part of Keith’s life by now. High school was torturous for Keith. Now, Keith had always experienced some form of disrespect throughout his life and he was well aware that he wasn’t what others might consider “normal” (but who the hell was allowed to determine what was normal?) but he never quite thought that it would ever get this bad.

              To get to the point where he seriously debated whether or not he wanted to even leave his house for some days. They could be waiting for me at the park? Or at the diner? Or especially at school?

              Keith was a freshman in high school and he hadn’t been excited. Not even a little bit, despite Pidge and Hunk trying to tell him that it wasn’t so bad. However, Keith had gone to high school hoping that it would be better than middle school. But how wrong he was. So very, very wrong.

              At first, it had started with small laughing and snickers behind Keith’s back, whenever Keith got flustered or used his necklace to rub his thumbs against. Then there were small jokes about Keith’s personality and his intelligence thrown throughout the hallways and at lunch. Eventually, it had gotten to the point where Keith would find disturbing objects in his locker and slurred words written across his stuff. Keith had already had to replace his backpack and notebooks, in fear that his dad or his friends would see them.

              That was the other problem.

              Keith hadn’t told his dad or his friends about how bad the bullying had gotten. He was more afraid of losing the only friends he had and disappointing his dad. After all, his dad was this amazing ex-operations military man who would kick any bullies ass in a heartbeat. Granted, Keith could definitely physically kick ass, but he was walking on thin water after his high school had learned about how many “fights” he’d gotten into in middle school. That and there was the fact that he had promised to not use physical violence, for his dad.

              Instead, Keith internalized all the bullying and made sure to keep it separate from the life he had at home or with his friends. No matter how hard or how painful it was for Keith. His friends didn’t need to worry and his dad didn’t need anything else on his plate.

              He could handle this on his own.

              Right?

x.V.x

              “Look, it’s the fucking retard. Careful to stay away from him, you might catch what he has.” Keith’s shoulders hunched in on himself when he heard one of his usual tormentors starting with Keith when it wasn’t even a school day. In fact, it was a Saturday and Keith was just trying to get some pizza for lunch.

              “I heard that he can’t even figure out that you’re not supposed to chew on your jewelry like a baby.” Another whisper followed with a round of snickers.

              Keith’s fists clenched at his sides, but he continued to try and ignore them as he made his way to the counter. Keith barely glanced up, only for his heart to sink upon seeing that Hunk was here and working behind the counter. Keith had, unfortunately, counted on bullies being at the pizza parlor but normally Hunk worked Sundays so he hadn’t counted on Hunk being there.

              To witness the taunts and bullies first hand.

              No. Keith had been so good about keeping his friend’s in the dark. Now it was all going to be ruined.

              As Keith made it to the counter, he could see that Hunk was frowning deeply at the other kids in the restaurant and Keith’s heart began beating fast. He prayed that his hands were getting sweaty out of nerves because that would only add fuel to the fire. When Keith finally approached the counter, Hunk stared at the other kids for a second longer before smiling at Keith.

              “Hiya Keith!”

              “Um, hi Hunk.” Keith smiled shyly. “I thought you didn’t work Saturdays?”

              “Usually not, but my mom was sick today so I told my dad that I would help out today.” Hunk smiled even wider than before and Keith almost felt his nerves beginning to calm.

              “Oh, that’s really nice –”

              “Sheesh, the freak’s so stupid that he can only make friends with the school’s fatass.”

              Keith’s face burned but his blood was boiling. For a second, Hunk looked taken aback and even his face flushed with shame. He quickly looked down at himself before clearing his throat and glaring at the taunting bullies.

              “Is there a problem here?” He managed to say without stumbling over his words. Keith glared darkly over at the bullies who didn’t even blink at him.

              “Yeah, you might wanna be careful. Don’t wanna become impaired like that kid over there and be fat.” One of the main bullies snickered while his friends laughed out loud. Keith’s jaw clenched tightly.

              “What the fuck?” Hunk hissed.

              “Hunk, stop. It’s not worth it. I just want a slice to go.” Keith grabbed Hunk’s apron and pleaded with his friend. Hunk spared a glance down at Keith, noting the desperation in his eyes and sighed. He was beginning to realize that Keith must be used to this type of treatment. Hunk was no stranger to bullying, but a sick feeling in his stomach told him that Keith probably suffered more than he did. However, with a deep breath, he did not.

              “Okay, your usual right? And I’ll get you a drink. On the house.” Hunk smiled shakily, allowing Keith to breathe again. Keith nodded, trying to convey his appreciation for Keith. Only for something sticky and wet to hit the back of his head in the next second.

              Keith jumped, scrambling to touch at the back of his head, only for his hands to come back covered in red marinara sauce. It was all over his hair. Getting stuck in it. He had to get it out and wash it out or it would stay stuck to his hair.

              “How come the retard gets his meal for free and we don’t? Is it cause you feel sorry that no one would want to hire someone with the likes of him?” A bully sneered. Hunk’s eyes blazed when he saw that the bully had thrown a cup of marinara sauce at the back of Keith’s head while insulting his friend.

              “Seriously, what the fuck? Are you joking right now, get out!” Hunk snarled. The group of bullies frowned at Hunk, beginning to rise from their table. Meanwhile, Keith was busy trying to use napkins to clean the back of his head while Hunk helped.

              “What did you say?” A particularly disgusting bully asked. “Are you defending this shit?”

              “He’s my friend and he’s smarter than all of you combined,” Hunk snarled. “Now get out of here.”

              “Hell no!” One bully cried angrily.

              “We paid for our food already!”

              “Too bad. We don’t tolerate assholes like you in this restaurant.” Hunk replied as he continued to help Keith clean out his hair. He hissed again when another splatter hit the back of Keith’s head, signifying that someone had yet again thrown more sauce at the back of Keith’s head.

              “No wonder you guys are friends. You’re both sick in the head.” A kid hissed and Hunk growled while Keith could begin to feel the first signs of a panic attack coming on. He had to clean out his hair. But Hunk knew. He had to clean his hair but Hunk knew. He knew. He knew.

              “Get out!” Hunk practically yelled.

              “Pizza for Stephan?” The shouting was suddenly stopped by Hunk’s sister emerging from the kitchen, holding a fresh, hot pizza on a tray. It was obvious that she had missed Hunk’s arguments with the bullies and the throwing of the sauce at Keith, otherwise, she would have stayed in the back. She froze, upon seeing the look of fury on her brother’s face, and the shaking of Keith’s body.

              She swallowed thickly as the tension in the air amplified.

              Finally, one of the bullies grinned darkly. “Oh, that’s us.” Carefully, he walked over to Hunk’s sister and the steaming hot pizza before snatching it out of her hands (tray and all). Hunk’s sister jerked back while Hunk attempted to get over to his sister, only for the bullies to walk away from them.

              Towards Keith.

              Who had his back turned to them.            

              “Here, have a pizza. On me.” The kid growled before Keith had the chance to turn around. Just as Keith had finally turned fully around, the bully had slammed the entire pizza down on Keith’s face and neck.

              Immediately, Keith couldn’t help but scream when the scalding hot cheese and pizza lathered over his skin. He stumbled away, trying to wipe off the hot cheese and sauce from his skin, feeling as if it were blistering. The texture of food on his body was already enough to make his skin squirm without having hot cheese and sauce dripping all over his sensitive skin.

              “Get out! Get out!” Keith vaguely heard a girl screaming in the background, followed by several other voices when he felt a hand grab his arm. Instinctively, fearing that the bullies had come back to hurt him even more, Keith flinched away from the touch and tried to get away even when he couldn’t see.

              “Keith, it’s okay. It’s me, Hunk. I promise I won’t hurt you.” Hunk’s voice filled Keith’s ears causing him to stop trying to get away. He felt a couple sets of hands on him and he practically whimpered. “It’s okay, it’s okay. My mom and I have to clean you off, we need to get everything off before you get burned.” Slowly, Keith nodded and allowed himself to be led back to the kitchens.

              Eventually, Keith could feel cool cloths and water being used to wipe away all of the sizzling cheese, burning oil and sauce away from his skin and he could breathe a sigh of relief. It felt like it took hours before Keith couldn’t feel any last traces of the pizza on his skin but everything still burned.

              “I think we should take him to the hospital. There’s no way he didn’t get at least first degree burns on his face.” That sounded like Hunk’s mom.

              “I’ve already called Takashi. He’s on his way here and I think Keith would rather go to the hospital with his dad.” Hunk’s father interjected.

              “We need to keep these cool cloths against the skin. But no ice, or anything too cold.” That sounded a lot like Hunk.

              “Keith, son, don’t worry, your dad will be here in five minutes. How do you feel?” Hunk’s father asked, and Keith swallowed hoarsely.

              “Hurts.” He whispered.

              “I’m so sorry Keith. They’re gone, and I never should have let them stay as long as they did. I’m so sorry.” Hunk was babbling again, and Keith wanted to smile to reassure his friend. But the pain was still too much, and he couldn’t bring himself to smile after today. He knows. He knows.

              Thankfully, Keith didn’t have to respond when he felt his dad’s presence right next to him. Comforting and caring.

              “Keith, honey? Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m going to get you to the hospital and you’re going to be alright. I promise.”

x.V.x

              Shiro was furious.

              No, he was seething.

              Never before had he ever felt so angry. Never before had he wanted to hurt someone as much as he did in that instant, not even in the military. In fact, the only other time that Shiro had come close to losing his temper like he was today, was when Zarkon had mocked Keith as a child for his intelligence.

              The reason for Shiro’s seething temper? The family that was seated in front of him, along with several officers.

              “It was an accident. Can’t we just leave it at this?” The mother of one of the bullies smiled sweetly at Shiro. No doubt she was enthralled by Shiro’s physic and was probably hoping Shiro would drop the charges and go on a date with her.

              Like hell, Shiro was dropping the charges.

              They had hurt Keith, his baby.

              “Excuse me? Your sons acted out in a barbaric manner causing physical and emotional harm to my son; traumatizing him!” Shiro snarled through gritted teeth. He was thankful that Keith was resting up at home, and didn’t have to be at this meeting like the cretins who had dared to hurt his son. The reason for Keith staying at home was due to receiving burns on 90% of his face. Thankfully they weren’t serious burns and there was no need for skin grafting or serious scaring. However, they would be extremely painful for the next few weeks.

              “Barbaric? They are children.”

              “Ma’am, your sons are bullies that burned my son’s entire face while shouting horrible slurs, while my son literally didn’t even look at him,” Shiro responded darkly, causing the mom to flinch.

              “I think we’re all being a little dramatic. There were no slurs said.”

              “Dramatic? Do you want the fucking doctor’s notes about the burns that my son will suffer with for the next five weeks?” Shiro growled, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t even believe that a grown woman would have the same maturity level as her son. “And your sons called him a retard.”

              “Well, isn’t he one?”

              You could hear a pin drop in the room, as it suddenly became deadly silent. Shiro’s face was a mixture of fury and horror. Had he heard that right? He was a bit in disbelief that this woman had just said what she said. Even the officers were staring at the woman with shock.

              “Excuse me?” Shiro asked softly. The officers eyed Shiro warily. Shiro was too calm.

              “Isn’t your son one? A retard? You know, one of them mentally, um, challenge kids?” The mother continued and her son nodded. Shiro was starting to really see the resemblance now. “You know, where everything isn’t quite there like the rest of us?”

              “Are you – are you seriously calling my son that?” Shiro continued in the deadly quiet voice that he had been using.

              “Well yeah. There’s obviously something wrong with him and you can’t blame my son when your kid is acting out.” The woman crossed her arms over her chest and sighed dramatically. “Isn’t that why you’re tryna cure him?”

              Shiro’s hands were fists at his sides and one officer put a firm hand down on his shoulder.

              “Ma’am, how dare you?!”

              “Shiro…”

              “No!” Shiro shook the officer’s hands off his shoulder and stood at his full height. “How dare you say that about my son. There is nothing wrong with my son. If anything, there is something wrong with you for teaching your son to be so narrow-minded so that all he can amount to being is a bully.” The woman opened her mouth, face red with humiliation. “No! Don’t you dare say a word. Keith is kind and he’s the most intelligent kid that I’ve ever met – and he’ll get a job and be more successful than any of you will ever be, especially because he would never stoop so low as to degrade and cause trauma to another person simply because they are different than you.

              “What makes your son any better than mine, especially when he dumps scalding hot pizza on a defenseless kid. Would you have let your kid get away with doing that to a kid in a wheelchair?”

              “No of course not!”

              “How about to me? If my prosthetic was gone?!” Shiro snarled.

              “N-no.”

              “Then why the hell is it okay for him to do this to my son? Just because he processes things differently? Or because his anxiety skyrockets every time he has to go out? Or because he gets overwhelmed sometimes and has to stim in order to calm down?” Shiro continued his rant, feeling all of his frustrations and fury coming out at once.

              The woman and all of the other parents were speechless so Shiro took this as the opportunity to continue.

              “Do you know what it’s like to not understand when kids are joking, but still trying so hard to figure out the slight differences in tones?” No one said a word. “Do you know what it’s like to be completely overwhelmed to the point where you can’t breathe, and you feel like an anchor is sitting on your chest? Do you know what it’s like to have something that you can use as a calming device or pattern in order to help you calm down? Do you know what it’s like to constantly be hurt and tormented every day, no matter where you go because people can’t get past their prejudices.” Shiro could feel hot tears building in his eyes and his voice was beginning to crack. Still, none of the parents said anything, but both officers were glaring at the kids and their parents.

              “There is nothing wrong with my boy.” Shiro took a breath, feeling his throat tighten and more tears build up. “He’s autistic, yes, but he is still a kid. He’s going to be a pilot someday and grow up to become successful. He’s going to get married. He’s going to have a family and he’s going to be a better person than any of you ever will be unless you learn to stop being so fucking judgmental.”

              With that, Shiro stormed out of the room, before any of the tears could fall. He would not let those asses get the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

              Not when Keith needed him.

              Later that night, when Keith and Shiro were snuggled up against each other on the couch with Keith’s face wrapped lightly with soft blankets. They were both enjoying one of Shiro’s home-cooked Japanese dinners with the fire going and Keith’s favorite movies playing.

              “Dad?” Keith said softly.

              “Yeah?” Shiro said, pulling Keith into a soft hug.

              “Thanks.” Keith smiled warmly, snuggling up on Shiro’s side.

              “You’re welcome son,” Shiro pressed a soft kiss to his son’s head. “But Keith?”

              “Yeah?”

              “Please don’t ever hide this from me again? Alright?”

              “Alright, dad. I love you.”

              “I love you too, my little star.”

#single dad shiro AU #single dad shiro #kiddie!AU #kiddie!paladins #voltron legendary defender #thanks nonny #poor bby Keith #but he will never be alone again #Angry dad is scary dad

[thatothercosplayer]

Re:Blaster/83 2nd Movement : Last Divination

Hikari sat forwards in the cockpit, flicking several switches before leaning back and flipping another few behind him. He pulled down the mic on his headset. “This is Green Earth to flight tower. You copy?” He asked, as mecha’s engines began to whir to life. 

“Hearing ya loud and clear, Green Earth! Hey! Shoot those Jark Matter bastards down, alright?” Ikura shouted over the intercom. 

((I suggest you listen to this, reader.))

“Pre-flight checks are complete. Open the gates, Ikura.” Hikari coldly answered, ignoring her comments. Hitting a switch above him, the shutters on the mech’s main cameras opened up. The panels on the displays filled with information, showing the current placement on known charts of the area, as well as his current heading, the system’s output, and other important information a pilot needed to know. 

“Roger that! Good hunting, Green Earth!” 

The launch deck’s gates slowly opened, revealing the reaches of space beyond. Hikari narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The fleet of ships weren’t going to wait for them to get ready. It was do or die time. 

“Green Earth, launching!” He declared, grabbing the joysticks on either side of him and pushing them forwards. There was a jolt as the mecha shot forwards, propelled by the rocket sled it was standing atop. The sled reached the end of its track and it threw the black framed giant forwards, causing the pilot to grit his teeth. The rows of switches behind him receded into the walls as the 360 display booted up, showing the rest of the fleet’s forces deploying, with him in the lead. 

“Rogue Squadron, this is Green Earth. I don’t have much to say....go out there, tear those aliens up, and come home in one peace. Green Earth out!” 

He kicked the afterburners into overdrive, the mecha flying forwards. It extended an arm, a beam saber igniting out of the top of the arm. 

Ahead, the Jark Matter forces, with their imposing silhouettes, spiked shoulders, and mono-eyes swarmed forth in hordes, looking to eradicate all life on Earth.

Not today.

Green Earth met its first foe, stabbing the saber through the mecha’s head and laying its free hand on its chest. The pilebunkers embedded in it’s hand went off, crushing the cockpit. It severed the head, grabbing the body and chucking it at another nearby grunt suit. 

His comms crackled. “Hikari! I whipped up something brand new for you that should give you the edge.” He furrowed his brow, glancing over the dashboard to see if there was some new feature she’d put in to better augment his piloting skills. 

“It’s called the TOQ System!” She declared proudly. 

Green Earth split another mech down the middle before kicking its remains away. It raised its beam saber, slicing up a missle that had been fired at it. The two halves spiraled behind it, exploding and lighting it up in silhouette. 

“TOQ System? What the hell is that?” Hikari asked, somewhat frustrated she was cutting off his focus from the allied chatter and surrounding area. 

“It stands for Time Oscillation Quantum System! It’ll displace you in time so you can get the drop on your foes!”  

He growled. “Just get to the point!” 

“You can warp around and be stealthier. Sheesh. You’re no fun.” She signed off, the muffled chatter of ally units returning to full volume. A cap on the right joystick unfolded, revealing a green button.

Upon pressing it, the black paneling of the Green Earth opening up to reveal neon green lights. The eyes flashed blue, and it disappeared. The Jark Matter units that had surrounded Green Earth glanced around in confusion, before one seized up and exploded, the haze from the destruction clearing some only for aquamarine eyes to pierce through the screen. 

Green Earth dashed forwards, igniting the other beam saber and beginning to slice and dice its way through enemy forces. Elsewhere, the rest of the allied forces were struggling to keep up- the mass produced frames, while having strength in numbers, had inexperienced pilots at the wheel. As a result, they were getting torn up....

Until a new contender arrived. 

A sharp, knife-like ship jumped out of warp, throwing enemy forces into disarray as they maneuvered around it in an attempt to not get skewered. Five flaps opened up on the top, kanji painted across each one that read “マジスカロボ隊” (translator’s note: Majisuka Robo-tai, “tai” meaning squadron).

Five suits erupted out of them, leaping forwards into the fray.

“You didn’t think I’d let you hog all the action, did you?” A cool, feminine voice rang over the human comms. 

“Sis!? What are you doing here?!” Hikari shouted, Green Earth looking up from impaling yet another Jark Matter grunt. 

The pilot- Sado- smirked. “Heh...what else? Saving the world. Alright, girls! Let’s show these bastards from outer space how we do it back home!” 

The first suit- the leader- was white, and it had extra thrusters on the back. It was a perfect design, all around- capable of doing anything. It held its arms out, energy arcing between the two fists. It tensed up, before striking a karate pose and running forwards (somehow, despite not touching solid ground) and kicking a Jark Matter mech in the head, before following up with a rocket propelled punch. Blood red text on its shoulder read “00 -  サド “ (Translator’s note: Sado)

Energy coalesced into the shape of a sphere in its palm, before releasing. The white mech grabbed a colossal hammer off its back, swinging it like a baseball bat and smashing the energy sphere, which careened forth...right through several more grunts.

“Grr! Get the fuck out of my way!” 

Another Majisuka unit grabbed the head of a Jark Matter mech, its arm pivoting around several times before it launched the grunt forwards into a horde of mechs, using the thrown one as an imprompteau javelin. The sharp head pierced through not one, not two, but three units, all of them erupting into flames. The thrown unit was stunned, having taken a beating after flying through three of its allies.

This mech that had thrown it was salmon pink, and while smaller in stature it had plenty of thrusters covering its body. In blood red lettering on the shoulder, it read ‘01 - 渋谷 ‘ (Translator’s note; Shibuya). Not only was it maneuverable, but it was able to add some extra power to its attacks. It wasn’t armed with any weapons...just its fists. “Tch! I’m not done with you yet! Get back here!” 

She shot forwards, flying above the stunned suit, before heel dropping onto it, all the thrusters on the suit angling downwards. The suit was torn in half, and the attack continued, going through several more suits that were also obliterated.

Another one flew forwards, colored wine red. It had gigantic, bird-like wings and a segmented tail. The tail broke up into parts, which flew apart individually and began firing at every Jark Matter unit in sight. White lettering on its shoulder read “02 - トリゴヤ, “ (Translator’s note: Torigoya). 

“Aha...ahaha.....ahahaha! Wel~come baaack~” A cackle resounded over the comms as the bits shot up every foe, locking onto new targets with each successive kill.

This mech’s hands and feet were covered in sharp talons, which lit up to reveal they were actually beam talons. Spinning dramatically, wings spreading to their full width, it flew into the fray, rearing its legs up and grabbing another Jark Matter mech by the shoulders with its feet. It somersaulted, releasing and throwing the suit away. The wings closed up, forming a cone. Raising its arms, the crimson mecha clasped its hands together, forming the tip of a drill. It spun rapidly, piercing through its quarry and coming out, wings unfurling as the suit exploded behind it. 

The next one was black, with a solitary white cross painted on its chest. It seemed plain...at least, at first glances. It had an extended thruster compliment, making it look rather angelic. It became enveloped in a violet aura, the eyes flashing. The unit silently raised its head, before blasting off, becoming a living comet. It tore through Jark Matter units in rapid succession, a chain of destruction following in its wake. White text on its shoulder read “03 -  ブラック“ (Translator’s note: Black.) 

The last mech, colored dark green, had a rather sinister aura to it. It was covered in carbon scoring, smears of oil, and even the residue of the strange, neon fluids that Jark Matter used to fuel its mecha. It twitched as it erratically flew about the battlefield. “Hey....are you mad?” 

Snatching a Jark Matter grunt, it flew towards one of the enemy carriers, slamming it facefirst into the hull. It dragged the enemy suit along the outside. “Kyahahahahah! Can you handle the heat?” Declared the suit’s pilot as it deftly avoided the anti-air fire being directed at it. It smashed the suit into the command deck of the ship, getting bathed in flames as the ship began to go down. The stained white text on its shoulder read “04 -  ゲキカラ“ (Translator’s note: Gekikara).

“What the...” Hikari let out...he shook his head. Whatever! His sister and her friends seemed to be turning the tide. 

“This is Green Earth! I’m going in!” He shouted, pressing forwards on both joysticks. He cut a hole into one of the ships, flying inside and skidding to a halt. He’d entered a staging area, where plenty more Jark Matter units were waiting. They all turned their heads. 

Hikari rolled his neck, popping his fingers before grabbing the controls again. 

Green Earth lunged forwards, cross slicing through one unit before tackling the one behind it, driving a beam saber into its chest. Using the momentum, it hand vaulted off the floor, kicking away another grunt before driving a blade through it. Landing on its head, Green Earth angled its thrusters so it would spin around, knocking away more grunts Matrix style, before pushing off, jumping off the ceiling, and landing on the chest of another grunt, using it to grind across the bay and slashing through anything that got in its way. It Kickflipped the mech before doing an Acid Drop into a 360 Impossible, Ollying out of the ship right as it exploded. 

It was pretty clear to Jark Matter their invasion of Earth was a bad idea- they’d never had a loss this staggering. Regardless, they pressed on, releasing more grunts.

“Grr...they just don’t stop coming! How many of these fuckers are there!?” Shibuya shouted.

“Lemme help thin ‘em out!” A volley of missiles flew forwards, each smashing into a Jark Matter grunt and killing them. The source? Another mech that was colored silver, which was armed to the teeth. It had launchers mounted on both shoulders, on its arms, and on its legs. Its back had extra thrusters, on which even more missile racks were mounted. It released the rocket launcher it had been holding, and spread its arms and legs. Panels all over its body opened up, revealing...even more missile racks. 

“You guys haven’t seen nothing yet! I’m about to show them the Macross Missile Massacre! Taste the fury of the one, the only, Mecha Professor, Ikura-hakase!” The pilot declared. “Fire, fire, fire! IKEEEEEEEEEEEE!” 

Every single missile rack unloaded, releasing a gigantic wall of missiles that were so many, I can’t even begin to describe how many there were! Holy shit! That’s a lot! 

They spiraled and twisted in and out of sight, chasing grunts down and smashing into them, detonating and lighting up the battlefield like Tokyo at night. 

“LAUNCH THE BIG ONE!” 

At her command, a gigantic missile fired from the human fleet’s main ship, about the size of a small cruiser. The silver mech ejected all of its empty missile racks (save for the internally mounted ones) and flew to meet it, landing on it and surfing it like it was riding a wave. “Yeeehaw! Let’s see how you like this! The one...the only! Ikura Deluxe! It’s the order of the day! Bon appetit, ya slimy bastards! Kozue....this one’s for you!” 

The mech dramatically pointed, the missile aiming for the Jark Matter mothership. “Go!” 

A close-up of the missile.

“Go!” 

A close-up of the silver mech.

“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” 

A close-up of the pilot, showing a cutaway of her helmet as she yelled. 

The missile had punched all the way through the front lines, where everyone else was, and reached the back, where the enemy fleet’s leader was.

The missile slammed into the mothership, a gargantuan explosion erupting as a result, sending out shockwaves that tossed the other Jark Matter ships out of formation and throwing any nearby mechsuits into disarray. The silver mech was tossed into the explosion, and it self-destructed. 

As a result of the explosion, the entire front half of the ship had been decimated; however, it was still operational. 

“CHIEF!” Hikari shouted, sounding legitimately distressed. Sure, she was annoying, but that didn’t mean she had to die! “Goddammit....goddammit! You didn’t have to sacrifice yourself!” 

He began to shake with anger, fists tightening around the Green Earth’s controls. “I’ll kill ‘em all! Every last one of them! I’ve lost enough friends to Jark Matter...no more! NO MORE!” 

The Green Earth’s neon green lights turned red as Hikari became blinded with anger, and it became consumed with overwhelming power. It tore forwards, rampaging its way to the back of the Jark Matter fleet. 

Compared to how he usually piloted, which was calm, analytical, and precise, now Hikari’s piloting was uncontrollable, Green Earth careening around as it tore into anything it could get its hands on. 

Additionally...he wasn’t as aware of his surroundings as he usually was. Which was why a Jark Matter grunt was able to sneak up on him. It lined its shot up, aiming right for the cockpit. It pulled the trigger...

KABOOM! 

The Jark Matter grunt exploded, a silver fighter flying through the destruction. “Hey, kid! Watch your ass!” Shouted the pilot.

“C-chief!? You’re alive?!” Hikari stammered.

“Of course I am! I’ve got too much shit to do to just die like that! Though, I gotta admit, that would’ve been pretty cool. Heh.” The fighter flew in closer. “Anyways, you might wanna clench. I’m about to ride you!” 

“Wait, what--” 

The silver fighter lined up behind Green Earth, before folding up and docking with the mech. The lights across it returned to green, as the silver fighter changed its hues to match the rest of the mech. “Docking complete! Hey, he’s still single, just so you know!”

“C-Chief, cut that out!” He demanded. 

“Right, right. Forwards! We got a final boss to defeat!” She declared.

Laser cannons sprung up, deploying over the Green Earth’s shoulders. 

“Right...let’s go! This is for all my friends....both living and dead! We’re gonna come home today!” Hikari declared.

“Fuck yeah! That’s what I wanna hear! Go get ‘em, kid!” Ikura shouted.

The Green Earth sped forth again, bearing straight for the mothership. It was tailed by multiple grunts, which formed up to chase after it.

The Green Earth dove into the mothership, flying past bulkheads, crossbeams, and other structural nonsense that would just be an obstacle during this final assault. You remember the run on the 2nd Death Star in Return of the Jedi, right? It’s like that! The grunts were unable to keep up, smashing into the various parts of the ship and exploding, damaging it even further.

Occasionally, it had to cut through several walls, but it finally reached the core. Conveniently, it was shaped like a giant arena, with the core of the ship being in a giant column that hummed as it ran.

Inside, a SUPER EVIL looking mech awaited Green Earth, and it had a super big cape that looked really dumb because it was fluttering like it was in the wind despite being in space, which is a vaccuum. I mean, fine I guess it looks cool but it’s dumb.

It tossed off the cape, which fell to the ground- this is really stupid I hate this- and it pulled out a beamsaber, which, when ignited, became a massive broadsword. How the fuck does that work? This guy’s trying too hard to be cool.

The two mechs clashed, and a comm line opened between them.

“Foolish Earthling! I, Zhen, the ultimate conquerer-”  “Hey! Asswipe! Shut up!” Shouted Ikura.

“What!? You dare interrupt me, the glorious leader of-” 

“BITCH, I SAID SHUT UP.” She yelled.

Immediately he was silenced. “Quit your yammering and fight! You think we give a shit!?” Hikari shouted. 

“Very well, then...let us dance!” Zhen cried out, laughing as the two mechs rocketed around, beam sabers repeatedly clashing. Green Earth fired at Zhenmech with its shoulder cannons, scoring a few hits now and again.

At some point the Green Earth, damaged and barely functioning, drove its beam saber through the Final Boss’ chest.

“What was that you called me? Foolish?” Hikari commented. “Well, looks like you’re the fool...’cause you’re dead.” He smirked.

“Hey, kid?” Ikura said.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t quit your day job.” 

Zhenmech exploded, and the explosion also knicked the core, which happened to be made out of a super volatile substance known to us humans as Explodium. Immediately it erupted into flames, and Green Earth began the journey out of the ship, flames licking at its heels as it dodged and maneuvered its way back out. 

However, the path seemed...different. Maybe it was just the alien nature of the ship, but the path had changed.

“How are we going to get out of here!? We’re gonna die at this rate! Dammit!” Hikari yelled. “We’ve made it this far...just to lose at the end!”

Ikura slowly lifted her head. It was like...she was in a trance. She saw an angel appear to her...it was Kozue! 

 “This way...”

“Hikari.” She said, in an uncharacteristically calm voice. Fuck, that was a big word. 

“What?” He asked.

“Fly up.” She said. 

“What?” 

“Just do it!” 

“If you say so...” 

The Green Earth angled upwards, holding out its beam sabers to tear through the hull.

The Green Earth was rocked as it flew through the ship’s husk...but it finally emerged, triumphantly escaping as the ship was consumed from the inside out, before finally being consumed in one gigantic, satisfying, climactic explosion that was really good and super cool to look at. 

Also, there was probably like, a really triumphant fanfare or something.

Okay, I’ve burnt out on this drabble. Hoped you enjoyed reading it.

@boukenuniverse

#plot point #Ikura

[dallasareaopinion]

Madness begets madness..or is it just another Monday

First, I would like to remember Dr. Hawkins. He was a remarkable individual and not enough is being said about him as a person or what he accomplished in science. He needs to be held up higher to young people as an example of overcoming obstacles and still thriving. Headlines are not enough and there aren’t even enough of those. We need to dedicate much time in the media to him. He is a man all of us can be proud.

 Okay before we start discussing the madness; there is better madness going on and quite frankly my bracket is busted so I am crazy for all the upsets. I support each and every team that is lower seeded in a game. Too bad Buffalo lost, yet there are many other upsets to cheer and as I write this UMBC is playing Kansas State close. Hopefully we will have a 16 seed in the sweet 16. I do hope to finish this and post this before the game ends so no update forthcoming.

 I wrote last week that the Trump administration is unfixable, yet he seems to find ways to make things worse overnight. It is impossible not to run to a newspaper or click on internet news each morning worrying about what madness is staring you in the face. You think how can it get worse? Somehow Trump finds a way not too disappoint and I wish he would. This country needs a break from what is happening to us. The pro Trump anti Trump verbiage is picking up heinously and civility has been lost completely. Can we find some people in this country to step up to the task of bringing rational discourse to our body politic? I say that knowing historically we have had moments of some pretty ugly fights before, yet this isn’t ugly; this isn’t name calling; this is pure hate being spouted on both sides of the fight with no real end in sight. Our forefathers are more than rolling over in their graves.

 At some point Trump is going to be found innocent or not. Quite frankly if he is innocent, he is an idiot. Someone on his side needs to take away his twitter and any microphones until the investigation has run its course. Everything he says and does screams he is guilty of something. Guilty of what and how much some are waiting to see, but his words and actions are of a man who is backed up in a corner with no where to go. So, if he is innocent, he needs to shut up because he is hurting his own cause and destroying the effort of our country to go forward post this debacle.

 If he is not innocent, then all hades is going to break loose. His alt right supporters are not going to believe anything he can be charged and will work to destroy any efforts to bring him to justice. The amount of hate coming from the people who think he is guilty will only add fuel to a fire that will burn very bright.

 And Putin wins. He wants us to self-destruct. If we self-destruct, Europe has no chance against him with the new nuclear weapons he is building and possible nerve agents they say they don’t have being unleashed on civilian populations. What is left of the world Putin will try to consolidate under him. China won’t care if Europe and we are gone. They will be completely absorbed with Russia on their northern border to care about what happens to us. He can destroy OPEC’s oil output and produce all he wants.

  From the paranoid posts: For those thinking Mueller will find collusion, forget about it.  Putin never told Trump run and I will help you. This started before 2014. Putin had his oligarch buddies telling Trump how great he is and how great of a President he would make. He has been planting this bug in Trump’s ear for a long time. Putin doesn’t care about Trump being President, he just wanted Trump’s madness thrown into our political discourse, so we would self-destruct. Trump winning is a bonus for Putin. He knew if Trump lost he would still be sowing the seeds of discourse by just who Trump is as a person. And since Trump has raised up all sorts of racist and alt right groups in the background this is all the better for Putin. Putin probably supports in the background these groups along with the troll farms he created or had someone create for him.

 Trump keeps talking about a deep state against him. What I have noticed is when Trump accuses someone of something, he is usually hiding that about himself. I worry that there is a deep state, yet one that is heavily armed and is in some areas of government that supports Trump, not because they like him, but because they can destroy democracy and run this country themselves as a plutocracy or dictatorship where they benefit at the cost of most Americans.  My question: are the economic oligarchs of our country in it with Trump or will they have to decide when they realize Trump is solo and will try to overcome them all? Any thoughts Mr. Tillerson? Mr. Dimon? Mr. Cohn? In some ways that might be our best hope. The Democrats/liberals still do not understand Putin as much as they think they do and as I said before they are clueless when it comes to public policy. We cannot afford them, yet we cannot afford them losing the 2018 midterms if Trump is guilty. Anyone read Catch 22?; because you know …. Sheesh!

 Heck I worry just writing in this blog and as an American, I shouldn’t.  Anyway, let’s hope I am wrong, cheer for the underdog through the Final Four.  

 Have a wonderful week

[moonandlionessarchive-blog]

Initiating soul-led conversations • Standing by and staying silent has always come easy to me. Part of it has been out of fear of confrontation, part of it has been no actual desire to partake. ▪️ In everyday situations where people around me (friends + acquaintances) have said hurtful things or made inappropriate jokes, I've laughed it off and let it go. I thought to myself, everyone has a right to their opinion. ▪️ Truth be told, I still strongly feel that way. I still don't feel a need to get up in people's faces and tell them they're wrong, even if I believe they are, because no one will hear any messages they are not ready to receive. I don't feel it is productive to go on the defense with someone who is set in their ways. To do so feels like a reaction from ego rather than an aligned response from soul.▪️ But more and more I am feeling called to use my voice, to speak out against things that aren't okay. This is a very new thing for me and I'm being challenged in figuring it out. I typically steer clear of participation in socially or politically charged situations. ▪️ So my question is: How can I initiate soul-led conversations with people I disagree with? As a sensitive recovering people-pleaser, how can I have productive exchanges with people on topics of social justice? ▪️ Learning how to communicate and be a part of the conversation is important to me, but I am still so intimidated by the absolute rage + volatility that surrounds this entire thing. There's still a part of me who wants no part in all of the anger and fire, but I know that it's vital to my individual growth as well as the collective's to face the fear and contribute my piece. I'm just trying to work out how to deliver that piece in ways that support my values and wellbeing - without projecting anger or ego/conditioning-fueled biases. ▪️ Sheesh, my head hurts...