#(alternatively if I haven’t saved in a while I have just thrown the thing killing me until I’m freed a few times)

[catgirlkirigiri]

I think I’m gonna play Rivulet next now that I am completely disregarding unlock order. Also does anyone know if there’s a setting or mod or anything that would make Hunter’s slag keys harder to lose? Because I keep starting Hunter and immediately losing the keys to accidental throws or getting grabbed. I know key items respawn in the room they disappeared in next cycle but it keeps happening in stupidly dangerous spots that I can’t get back to without dying. I’m bad at video games if you couldn’t tell

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Rambling on Ikutoh. That’s literally it.

Just heard a song and it gave very specific Hachijo Tohya and Ikuko feelings, If you haven’t finished Twilight of the Golden Witch, don’t click the separator.

Full spoilers below, this is your warning.

This is going to get hideously long and I apologize in advance.

Ikutoh: A very short overlook.

We know so very little of what happened to Battler, after he escaped Rokkenjima with Sayo. There is the fact that she jumped into the ocean to commit suicide, unable to tell him the truth about her body, and that Battler jumped in after her as soon as he realized she was gone to try and save her life.

We know that Battler couldn’t save Sayo. That he was eventually forced to let go of her hand, and floated back to the surface of the ocean.

We don’t know what happens to him then, in the interim of floating back to the surface, or what happens when he did reach land.

However, we do know the eventual aftermath of getting to land. Battler made his way inland, to a road somewhere where he would be struck by a passing car.

Hachijo Ikuko, who was out driving that day, would find him laying in the rain there. Unable to move, unable to speak, injured and barely conscious.

He later wakes up, in her home, unable to remember anything except that he is eighteen years old. Ikuko, after introducing herself and speaking with him, then gives him the name Tohya, taken from alternative readings for the characters that make the number 18.

For several decades, the two lived together as writing partners - though they are not married - writing mystery novels, as well as forgeries revolving around the Rokkenjima incident that killed most of Tohya’s family, as well as leading to the ‘death’ of his previous self, the identity that was Battler.

Ikutoh: A Deeper Look At The Roots - Battler Gets Hit by A Car And Dies. Kind-of.

There’s a few things alarming about Ikutoh’s relationship, and I’ll start with the most glaring one.

Battler was hit by a car.

We don’t whose car it was. We don’t know how fast the car that hit him was going. We don’t know far how he was thrown back by the force, or the full extent of his injuries.

Other than the fact that the impact was enough to knock him near unconscious and left him unable to move, getting struck by that car - if it wasn’t also caused by the near drowning and all the after effects that would have had on him - had a large hand in causing his later amnesia.

Effectively, the impact was the moment of Battler’s ‘death’ by removing his memories, while also giving rise for Tohya to be ‘born’ in Battler’s place. The accident would result in the necessary development of a new self, as the old one had ‘died’ without the memories which had initially formulated it.

That’s just about all the information we get.

We don’t know anything l about how long he was unconscious, or anything more about his injuries, at least in the VN. There’s some implication of muscular atrophy, as he’s described by the doctor as ‘almost completely wasted away, but there’s nothing more to indicate the passage of time.

In the interlude of the manga where we first see Tohya’s point of view (Twilight, Volume 5), ‘Battler’ is depicted as laying flat on his stomach in the road. (I say ‘Battler’ because, at this point, he’s been struck by the car and is on the verge of losing consciousness. He’s not quite Tohya yet, but he has lost the memories which let him perceive himself as Battler).

As it wasn’t confirmed that Tohya had been Battler at that time, only implied, we can’t really get a good look at his head - it’s either covered by text boxes, out of frame, or depicted as very…dark, for lack of a better way. The outline of a head, but completely filled in with black ink.

His hands are scraped, and his shirt and pants stained with splotches of blood. Looking closely at where he lays on the asphalt, you can even see where his blood has smeared on the road, especially around the hip waist area.

When he tries to lift his head and speak to Ikuko, there are scrapes and blood all over Battler’s face (though, you can’t make out much other than his nose and mouth, most of it covered in shadow or hair - the goal, again, was to obscure who Tohya had been). His blood is also on the ground below his face.

At the very least, Tohya had a pretty bad case of road rash.

When he wakes up, his head was likely shaved so that his head could have been bandaged - his right cheek had the little square piece of gauze, while the majority of the left side of his face, with except to his eye, was wrapped up. The worst of the trauma was probably on the left of his skull, taking a guess.

On the next few pages or so, while he’s recovering at Ikuko’s home and in the wheelchair (the first time), we do see Tohya’s right leg all bandaged up. It looks like his pant-leg is rolled up to make way for them, meaning the bandages are bulky or on-top of something bulky.

So, it may actually be a cast of some sort - which implies his leg was either broken by the impact, or pretty badly sprained. He’s also later seen recovering with crutches and keeping his weight on one leg, so I’m inclined to think it was broken.

As far as I can tell, when she found Battler, covered in blood and laying nearly dead in the middle of the road, Ikuko didn’t bring him to a hospital. Or notify the police.

Which is actually the next concerning thing.

Ikuko picked this bloodcovered, unconscious young man up, put him in her car, and presumably drove him straight to her house.

This person, a young man who has at the very least suffered severe enough blunt trauma as to cause amnesia - and she brings him not to a hospital, but to her house.

Without context, the most likely assumption to make was that he was either hit while walking alongside the the road, or jumped or thrown out of a passing car. Either way, on a road with literally no one and nothing else, she’s passing by and finds this young man laying - for all purposes - dead in the street.

Ikuko, seemingly with no hesitation for however shady the situation seems, still brings him to her house instead of thinking that it seems strange to literally find a kid dying in the middle of the road, and that hey, he needs immediate treatment, maybe I should bring him to a hospital.

Now, this was 1986. Cell phones weren’t really a thing at the time. Its easy to assume he’d at least been brought to a clinic of some sort beforehand, or if one wasn’t nearby but her house was, she would have gone there so she could call and notify some sort of authority, and get him some help there while waiting.

Technically, Ikuko did do that - a doctor did come to examine Tohya’s injuries. The man even suggested bringing him to a larger hospital, which would have the equipment to better examine his head, and look into the possibility of brain damage and its severity.

However, Ikuko paid the doctor extra to keep his examination of Tohya secret - off the record. Why she would do that, when really he should have been brought to the hospital to maybe be identified, I have only one idea - and it’s not exactly a good one, but I’ll get to that.

Over the next few pages, there are panels where we watch Tohya slowly recuperate, but…we don’t see him get brought to a hospital. He might have been brought to one in those early days, but we do not see it, and it isn’t mentioned.

I find it more likely that Tohya would have been brought to a hospital once he was more recovered from his initial injuries at that time, if at all, back in 1986. A broken leg doesn’t allow for a person to have much easy maneuverability, especially if they’re already struggling to move their body.

The fact that the doctor suggests visiting a hospital, made a house call to check on Tohya, and that Ikuko paid for his silence implies that Tohya was brought immediately to her house from that road.

In other words, he wasn’t brought to whatever local clinic or hospital that was in the area.

Ikuko’s house - mansion, really - is located at the top of a hill. She owns that land, the hill that she lives on - and arguably, she doesn’t have any close neighbors because of that. Otherwise, unless she wasn’t interested in speaking with them, her cat Bernkastel wouldn’t have been her only companion. Ikuko would have had some other acquaintances.

We don’t know how far her home was, from where Ikuko found Tohya on the road. How long it would have taken to reach her home, while being Tohya there.

The road had to have been somewhat close to the ocean, for Battler to drag himself to it, but other than that, the location of the road - its distance from Ikuko’s house on the hill, or the fishing village/town nearby, and Ikuko’s distance from the town - is unknown. It’s surrounded by trees, hence why Ikuko first asks him if the area was his garden (rhetorically I think, but it’s hard for me to tell).

So we don’t know how long it took for Tohya to be put into Ikuko’s car, brought to her home, and treated for his injuries, three of which that can be inferred manga-wise, with varying levels of severity.

Firstly, the blunt trauma to the left side of his head could have lead to swelling of the brain (mentioned by the doctor). Considering how much blood his face was covered with, it wouldn’t be a far cry to say that it had started to bleed either.

Then, the large amount of scraping over the entirety of his body would be very painful, a potential root for nerve damage depending on how deep they were, and that’s not considering the potential blood loss. It’s likely they weren’t deep scrapes considering the doctor’s statements, but that’s still something to consider.

The third injury is his broken right leg. Likely, it was a closed fracture, as an open fracture would have needed surgery to have been corrected. Still, it’s something would would need to be correctly set and splinted, as wrong movements could lead to further damage - not to mention the risk of causing the bone to jut out his skin depending on the actual type of break in the bone.

Additionally, if Battler dragged himself through wooded area to reach the beach, assuming he walked up a slope from the beach area of whichever island he reached, there would probably be a myriad of other scratches and maybe bug bites or something else.

Now that I’m thinking on it, we don’t even know if Ikuko called the doctor immediately. She found Battler in the road while it was raining, so there’s no way of telling if it was nighttime or if another storm had rolled in - obscuring the actual time.

All I know is that it had to be some point after noon - as Sayo and Battler had been at sea, and Sayo had jumped off of the boat, sometime during either the early morning or afternoon of October 6th.

When Tohya wakes up in Ikuko’s house, it’s daytime, so at the very least - maybe a night has passed. Maybe more. If it was nighttime when she found him, maybe that was why he wasn’t brought to a clinic - it might have been closed.

The scene of Ikuko finding Battler in the road and him waking up without memories at her house are right next to each other, which the illusion that maybe it’s been only a day or two. However, the passage of time is never confirmed, so… we don’t actually know how much time has passed.

Ikuko, or her staff, could have bandaged him up that first night, and then called for the doctor the following morning or, depending on how you interpret her, even after that, the longer it took for him to wake up.

The doctor mentions before leaving that he wouldn’t have lasted long, if he’d been left out in the road and Ikuko just drove past (or right over) him. If not from his injuries, my best guess is that hypothermia could have done him it - it was early October, and raining after all.

Considering Battler’s injuries when Ikuko found him, she would have had to move very quickly to save his life -> and she didn’t seem very panicked at all, stooped over him and asking if he was still alive. She would have had to make a decision very closely, and he would have had to have been hit very recently - and yet, no other cars were nearby.

This probably sounds cruel, but I think Ikuko (unintentionally) hit him with her car.

Ikutoh: Ikuko’s Potential Hit & Kidnap

This is one of the reasons why I think Ikuko didn’t want Tohya’s examination to be on record.

If she hit Tohya with her car, there’d be damage which would need to be repaired (unless she chose to hide the car or replace it), and if it went on record that a physician paid a visit to an injured young man at her house, around the same time her car would be sent in for repairs or replaced - well, that’s shady, to say the least.

There tends to be a stigma on hitting people with your car.

Of course, her staff would be paid for their silence, as would whoever worked to repair the car…but things can slip.

In the VN, Tohya later remembers two bright lights coming at him, and being aware that he was in danger while being unable to move, despite someone honking their horn at him.

He heard a sound, and then a car door opened.

He doesn’t say that he heard the car door open. He says that he heard a sound, which makes it distinct from the squealing of the brakes, and then the car door opened. The phrases are separate.

If Ikuko really did hit him, I think the sound he heard was his own body getting struck by the car bumper. However, this can also just be liked to the head trauma of having already been struck, and struggling to comprehend his surroundings and stay conscious.

In the manga, her car doesn’t seem to be damaged. This can either throw the theory that she hit him out the window, or I can apply the same logic as above - that Tohya is incorrectly remembering the car as undamaged, as Ikuko would later show it to him as proof she didn’t hit him.

For one, it was dark and rainy when he was hit by the car. Then, he also had the headlights of the car directly on him, which would have made it difficult to see the front of the car properly from his perspective on the ground, if he could see it at all.

Tohya wasn’t likely to get a good look at the car, whether it was a different one that hit him and Ikuko had found him, or she had been the one to hit him.

Lastly, people’s memory is not infallible - it can be altered by things you learn after some sort of event, or manipulated by others to make you think something happened one way or another - and that’s what we call gaslighting, folks.

Either he had already been hit by a car when Ikuko had just managed to avoid running him over entirely - the reason he hadn’t been able to move maybe the exhaustion of near drowning and trying to move inland - or Tohya incorrectly recalls how the car stopped before hitting him due to the trauma, and the information he’s given later on.

Considering the head trauma he suffered as well, It makes sense to me that Tohya would misremember things, especially that event, and later interpret those memories differently. Especially so, when Ikuko - who saved his life, took care of him, whom he trusted, who gave him a new identity to live under - told him or implied something else had happened.

With head trauma like that, discounting his other injuries, Tohya would have needed immediate care. The closest person would probably be the person who hit him with the car. If they didn’t flee the scene of the crime.

In this case, I think that’s Ikuko.

The notion of Hit&Run Ikuko does already come up in Umineko, but only so far as to deny her culpability in the matter.

As I mentioned earlier, Tohya did think for a time that Ikuko had been the one to hit him. She later showed him her car - and it was undamaged. That implies it wasn’t her, and essentially exonerates her in causing Tohya’s injuries + amnesia.

However, Tohya was wheelchair-bound for some time while he was recovering. He relied on Ikuko, or the maids working for her, to move around.

We don’t know how long he was unconscious, or how long it was until he was recovered enough to sit in a wheelchair and move around. Then, there’s the question of what state he was in while recovering - how much he slept, how much he could move, and so on.

When did he move into the wheelchair, how long he was in a wheelchair afterwards, and then when had he graduated to crutches to walk around himself?

In that unknown span of time, Ikuko could have had her car repaired. She could have replaced it - gotten a new car - or already had another car of some sort stored away, choosing to show Tohya the undamaged one.

When Tohya was brought to the car would have been entirely reliant on when Ikuko wanted to show him the car, and what his health was at the time.

Besides that, considering how badly Tohya had been injured, the interior would have needed to be deep-cleaned. There would have been mud, if not Tohya’s blood, all over the inside of Ikuko’s car. Why not get the car repaired or just get rid of it at the same time, as well?

It’s never outright said that Ikuko didn’t hit Tohya with her car.

She never says she didn’t hit him either. Ikuko mentions that Tohya had originally thought she did. He mentions to Yukari decades down the line that he eventually came to believe she hadn’t, due to the evidence he’d been shown.

Ikuko's innocence is something that we infer from what we are shown.

I say she kidnapped him too, because again - Ikuko didn’t bring Tohya to a hospital.

She paid the doctor to keep his visit a secret, and Tohya’s examination off-record. She didn’t contact police about finding someone badly injured in the middle of the road, even after getting him help. Presumably not even after confirming he was 18, still a minor.

He could have had his teeth examined and they would be able to find his dental records, police or hospitals or someone, and then he could have been positively identified. That was how Maria’s jawbone was identified when recovered from Rokkenjima.

Through her dental records.

That’s not touching on the fact that, considering the close proximity whatever island she lives on to Rokkenjima, the incident would have been on the news for at least a little bit, on the Internet and television and newspapers -> including faces of the victims, their ages, but I’ll go into that a little bit later.

There were avenues Ikuko could have taken to get Tohya identified after she saved him - even if she was panicked in the moment she found him (and she didn’t seem like it) eventually the idea would have come to her - and for whatever reason, she didn’t.

Ikutoh: Ikuko’s character

Before continuing, I want to look at what we know of Ikuko’s character. All things speaking, we don’t…really know much in concrete fact.

Ikuko was older than eighteen when she found Tohya, but described as not to old to get married - even if he personally thought she’d given up on it.

So, in 1986, my personal belief is that Ikuko was somewhere in her mid-twenties (24-25). At the most, she’d probably be somewhere in her early thirties - maybe around Rosa’s age or a bit younger.

We know very little about her background.

Ikuko belongs to a rich family of landowners. She has several brothers, and out of all her siblings, she was considered a bit eccentric. Due to a series of choices she made, her family nearly disinherited her - pushing her out of the public eye, and telling her to live quietly in her mansion atop the hill.

She was effectively disowned, but….softly? A more accurate term would probably be exiled or excommunicated.

Ikuko still had access to quite a bit of money and so on, a large staff to care for her, but… otherwise, Ikuko was left completely alone. It didn’t seem to be something she minded, as Ikuko is described as not being very social, but still - her home is a very isolated area.

Though she lived in luxury, with a full staff to care for her, Ikuko reads to me as being a person who was very lonely. Ikuko really only had her cat, Bernkastel, as her companion up until finding Tohya.

She presumably told him this herself, which I find interesting considering that she does have people working for her, and around her.

Though Ikuko is in no way close to the Ushiromiya Family in regards to how her servants are treated, the fact that she was lonely does imply distance between them and her. They are there for work. She essentially takes the staff’s presence as her due, not as companionship.

Similarly to Tohya, who wasn’t introduced as a separate character until Twilight and whose’s name originated as Ikuko’s pseudonym while writing, what else is known of Ikuko’s characterization is only something inferred because she doesn’t appear that often (although more than Tohya).

In her case, much of Ikuko’s character ties in to the nature of the fantasy witch, Featherine Augustus Aurora. On a fantasy level, Featherine is a Creator witch who can effectively rewrite reality as she wishes - to name just one of her abilities. We see it in Twilight when she quarters Lamdadelta's body.

Looking from a reality perspective, Featherine is the meta-verse fusion of two people - Ikuko and Tohya - who wrote the most populr forgeries that perpetuated the occult mystery of Rokkenjima. Her abilities stem from the fact that they are writers, creating and erasing multiple realities on the pages of the forgeries they write - which, in turn, is what the meta-world is built atop of...it gets confusing.

When she’s introduced in Dawn, Ikuko and Featherine are very much implied to be one and the same -> linked, at the very least (I’m fairly certain that Featherine is actually composed of both Tohya and Ikuko?). At that point, it's assumed to be (roughly, not accounting for being separate entities and a person's perspective on the meta) 1:1, since I don't think anyone knew Tohya was separate from Ikuko until Twilight.

The same thing occurs in Twilight, during the ‘reveal’ of Eva’s diary -> Featherine essentially being a witch-persona of Ikuko’s to some degree. They are almost but not quite the same, slipping in and out of what's reality and what's meta.

Meta and it’s ties to reality are very fluid, as is how intertwined Featherine is with Ikuko.

If we read into her influences on Featherine, who predominantly seems to be in personality and appearance most like Ikuko over Tohya, as if his influence is swallowed up by her own - as well as the scenes in reality, she views most people as below her, their actions as something entertaining - it’s very reminiscent of viewing herself as above others, above human.

Ikuko has a bit of a god-complex. Although she has a way of speaking that makes people slow to irritation when she speaks with them, she’s generally condescending towards others.

One of her first lines when she is introduced in Dawb is to refer to the fans of her and Tohya’s written works as ‘trash’, because in her eyes they read the books for the prestige of it - to seem intelligent for indulging in mystery, especially mystery written by a renowned author.

Other people are…distant, from Ikuko. She can view them as children who argue with one another, things to watch for entertainment, but they are below her.

However, this doesn’t mean that she doesn’t get lonely, or that she is entirely divorced from being a person. When Tohya lives with her and begins reading her manuscripts, Ikuko eventually admits to him that once it was fun writing for herself, but she enjoyed when he read and discussed her manuscripts with her.

Just like anyone else, Ikuko needs someone or something around.

For example, We don’t see her act as expressively condescending with Tohya as with others, she greets him somewhat as an equal, but - then again, Ikuko essentially molded who Tohya was.

Put roughly, Ikuko holds all the power in their relationship. If there was anyone she’d treat as someone close to her, if not an equal than as something she cared for, it would be the young man who she saved, and named, and created a new identity for. The person she let stay in her home, because they had nowhere else to go.

Tohya is her caged bird, with clipped wings that do not allow him to fly. Her condescension manifests in different ways towards him.

They didn’t have any sort of connection when she first found him in the road, but they built one later - and it’s a somewhat one-sided dependency at that. Ikuko does depend on Tohya, but in an emotional manner (companionship), rather than the emotional-material dependency on Tohya’s end.

Additionally, she saved his life and was incredibly lonely by that point, and there’s that to consider when looking at the way she interacted with Tohya…

There’s just - so much to her character and their relationship that’s just barely touched on, but what we do get is something interesting to pick at.

This is me cutting her character into some of the roughest blocks possible at the moment, since I’m not really accustomed to it - or much of the answer arcs, really.

@batbeato’s depiction of Ikuko has greatly formed my own understanding of the character, and she’s made a few posts on Ikuko and Tohya’s relationship already - as well as fleshing it out in her fic, ‘A fate outside the catbox’. I recommend checking out both the post and the fic.

Ikutoh: Ikuko + Tohya’s identity + Why she kept him secret

So. Ikuko finds a young man (Battler) in the road. She sees he’s still alive, but grievously injured. Ikuko saves him, and maybe she thinks - oh, someone to keep her company. That would be nice.

Though she might not mind being alone, Ikuko is still a lonely person.

By saving the young man, he would likely stick around at least to thank her, and that would bridge the gap between a relationship and non-relationship.

We don’t have a canon answer for how she made the jump from finding this kid in the road to bringing him straight to her house, it’s never really touched on… There’s no way to know exactly what went on inside her head when she picked Battler up. That’s the roughest, sketchiest idea of her line of thought in my head.

Pretty sure most people would assume foul play after finding a person laying in the road like roadkill with no one else, not even a wrecked car, around - contact the police or the ambulance after getting said person to the nearest safe place to do so - but Ikuko just…doesn’t.

Or she doesn’t care. Ikuko brings him to her home.

Then. The young man wakes up.

This I find really interesting, because even before he speaks, you can see now in Ikuko’s lines her eagerness at having someone to talk to, as soon as he (Tohya, but not yet named) woke up.

She introduces herself, and she’s dropped the distant way of speaking from when she found him, that she uses speaks to others (Ange, the Witch Hunters, etc). Ikuko speaks like they are equals, wanting to get off on the right foot. She seems so eager too, especially in the manga (which really makes me feel like Tohya was knocked out for a while).

She asks for his name, and he can’t give her one. He doesn’t remember his name, and after watching him struggle with that for a moment, Ikuko asks what he does remember, which is only his age -> eighteen years old, or around there.

Ikuko gives him the name Tohya - an alternative reading to the numeral characters that make the number eighteen. She also immediately adds her own surname, Hachijo, a link between the two of them.

She asks him if that works, but directly afterwards states she’s chosen well - which, while cute (the manga panel has flowed floating behind her little chibi figure with a cat smile), also makes it seem that name is already concrete in her mind for him. Like a claim.

Ikuko looks at this amnesiac kid, and she has to have decided on the spot - hey, he can live with me. I’ll give him my last name for the time being, then.

Considering the initial plan with her relationship with Tohya which was scrapped, this makes me Feel a very certain way (I go into this a little further down).

Its reasonable to assume Tohya hadn’t woken up prior to this, so Ikuko wouldn’t have planned for this - she wouldn’t have known about his lack of memory, even if the doctor believed it likely.

It’s interesting to look at, because with his memory, Battler would have likely had a motive to leave the mansion, but without it…Tohya doesn’t.

Doesn’t have a name, or paperwork, a place to stay…

Ikuko would know that, even if she didn’t know who Tohya had originally been outside of being a teenager she found dying in the middle of the road. Because if Tohya himself doesn’t know…what does he have to look for other than his memories, and where would he stay while recovering?

Quite the issue.

Keep in mind, Ikuko seemed to have no thought of contacting the police about this teenager she found in the road, and no indication of bringing him to the hospital. Which could probably manage to pair his dental records with Battler’s and identify him.

Tohya stays with Ikuko, and she doesn’t seem to make a move to directly try and find out who he is. It could start with a simple offer to stay with her while he recovers, she’ll foot the medical expenses, but then staying for a while grows longer and longer…

Not exactly great.

While saving his life and letting him stay with her seems benevolent on papers, and she likely had benevolent intentions…there are issues with the ethics of Ikuko’s actions.

We know later on that Tohya did go to several hospitals for his migraines in his life, but not when. At the very least, when Ikuko had first found him…she didn’t bring him. As far as we know, she didn’t contact anyone but the doctor who she paid off to keep Tohya’s case secret.

She specifically didn’t want other people to know about Tohya, who she had saved and who was staying with her. Which makes it feel like she wanted Tohya isolated, wanted Tohya to herself.

Ikuko lives on an island somewhere in the area near Rokkenjima. Her house has a view of the sea, and there’s no other way for Battler to have ended up in the middle of the road that night otherwise.

News stations would be reporting the incident, and soon enough, pictures of the servants and the Ushiromiya family would also be televised.

Regardless of how long Tohya was unconscious, sooner or later, Ikuko should have known that Tohya had been Ushiromiya Battler.

In the manga, his face is completely bandaged up - but this can be a design choice, due to the fact that during the interlude it’s only meant to be implied that he was Battler who survived. However, Ikuko had already seen his face. Besides that, bandages need to be regularly changed - others would have seen his face eventually too.

When Tohya and Yukari meet decades later, she can identify him right away. Which implies that his facial structure wasn’t horribly altered by the accident.

Which makes the fact that Ikuko didn’t contact the police, or bring Tohya to the hospital right away, or even tell him who he had been, extremely strange. An eighteen year old, in the middle of nowhere? Even if she didn’t tie him to the Rokkenjima Incident, it’s still weird she didn’t contact anyone.

Tohya also had at least two family members left, which makes it worse if Ikuko did know who he was before Tohya remembered. Eva and Ange were alive.

Ikuko watched him grapple with struggling to remember who he was - and later, once he remembered, with trying to either accept or coexist with his memories as Battler. To the point that he ended up in a wheelchair.

It could have been out of concern for his safety that she didn’t contact anyone, considering the mysterious deaths of everyone else in his family -> but, only if she really only knew after he had remembered. It’s pointedly mentioned that Eva wasn’t seen by public as a culprit until a forgery was published declaring her, the sole survivor, as the culprit.

Banquet. Which Ikuko and Tohya had written.

Up until the message bottles were found and made public, I can’t even remember if it was treated as a mass murder or not. Rokkenjima wasn’t truly known about until the message bottles had been found and information about them released to the public.

Ikuko might not have had a television, preferring to read over watching shows or a movie, but she did leave her house. She wouldn’t have found Tohya that night, otherwise. There would be newspapers, magazines, something around the town depicting the incident for at least some time after the island exploded.

Ikuko should have seen Battler’s face in them at some point, known that it looked like Tohya’s and connected the dots, especially as forgery after forgery began coming out on the Internet and interest in the accident as an occult matter began to rise.

Maybe she did.

But it’s never brought up if she knew who he was, and if she did know beforehand, even before people starting pointing fingers at the family and servants for mass murder, especially at Eva who had survived…she didn’t tell Tohya.

She didn’t tell anyone.

I think that, had he been told that Ikuko thought she knew who he had been, it would have saved Tohya a lot of the pain and fear he later went through, in regards to his relationship to Ushiromiya Battler, and the clash of the original identity against his existence as Tohya.

On top of all this, as though the implications of Ikuko not looking into Tohya’s identity weren’t pretty bad, or already knowing who he was while he wanted to remember, Tohya literally can not leave Ikuko.

As I mentioned, He was physically incapable of doing so. He has no memory of where else he could go. As he has no idea who he is, he has no paperwork, no legal identity, no money, and so on.

If he’d been brought to a hospital or police at some point, they could have identified him via dental records - but Ikuko did not bring him, and considering how long he struggled to regain his memories, likely didn’t bring the option up to him if he didn’t take it.

Actually the fact that he did eventually go to hospitals for medication makes me wonder if she had paperwork forged for him. Otherwise he wouldn't have a medical record to hand in, which would be strange.

Essentially, in regards to material security, he’d be screwed. Additionally, Ikuko saved his life and gave him a name - let him stay with her at her house, maybe even encouraged it. He is indebted to her.

He cares for her.

In a way, Ikuko groomed Tohya for obedience to her. At least when she first saved him, he was literally dependent on her goodwill for everything, even when suspicious of if Ikuko had struck him with her car (which had to have been an uneasy feeling at the least).

We don’t have a lot in canon regarding their dynamics, unless it is stuff we can infer about their characters from Banquet through Twilight (which were confirmed, at least on a gameboard level outside of meta, to be written by the two) but there is something just very much Not Good about the way she found Tohya, and then kept him secret.

Ikuko is control of the information Tohya receives about the outside world, able to influence the decisions he made about his health to a great deal, and persuaded him to stay with her, somehow. Ikuko is the one who likely brings him to the hospital, gets the medication he takes, was the one to introduce Tohya to forgeries and likely urged him to start writing them -

This is the start of their relationship. This is the foundation for how they live together for decades, and originally, Ryukishi was going to have Tohya married to Ikuko. In canon, all we know is that they lived together, it remains unconfirmed whether it was romantic or not, but still.

Just -

There is Ikuko, somewhere in her twenties (24-25, maybe) at the youngest, finding an eighteen year old kid laying nearly dead in the middle of the street one night. An amnesiac kid who she takes in (possibly hit with her car), arguably tells no one about for some time, and gives the name Hachijo Tohya.

Despite his injuries, and a doctor's recommendation, there's no indication he was brought to a hospital for treatment. As a matter of fact, when she first found Tohya, her first instinct was to bring her to her house - and when she did call said doctor, she paid him to keep the visit unrecorded.

Ikuko lives on an island somewhere near Rokkenjima. An island belonging to the wealthy Ushiromiya Family which, coincidentally around the time she found Tohya in the road, had mysteriously exploded and killed nearly the entire family and staff on it - with exception to one Ushiromiya Eva.

It's initially written off as an accident, the island having once been an old military base back in the second world war. The television, the newspapers, publish pictures of the people who didn't make it off the island - and interestingly enough, one of them is a dead ringer for Tohya.

Ushiromiya Battler...would be just about the same age as him, too,

Eighteen years old.

Ikuko doesn't bring Tohya to the hospital...and she doesn't tell him about the papers, either.

Just….These two. I swear.

[jayde-jots]

does the celestial family know about their mother cosmo? She’s such a gorgeous character you made ❤️

Also, after Nexus got thrown into space, I assume she had like a space shuttle and snatch him outta there cause it’s cold. She decides what’s best for him, is to have a new better life. He been through so much and dealt with so many problems, to think he could handle it all with his siblings, that was a terrible mistake knowing the pressure he was under by old moon. She permanently erased his memories and gives him a new name. The old moon memory storage chip was out during the whole process. After that, Monty arrived at the space station and asked for old moons storage chip, took it then left. Nexus wakes up moments later and cosmo happily raises him in secret. New moon is new reborn as nexus now :)

Man I had started a whole AU involving her, from her first meeting Sun and Moon when they were still in one body to current day. I like your idea of her just resetting Nexus and erasing his memories but character wise she wouldn’t do that. My idea was that she’d step in after Sun captured Nexus, have a one on one talk with him and keep guard while Sun was at work.

After Monty came in at that one point to talk to Old Moon I’d think she’d make the choice to then remove him from Nexus’s head. She’d personally commit to Nexus’s therapy under a sort of psyche hold, transporting him to her personal residence to keep a better eye on him and to keep him isolated from the others for the time being while he heals. So while Earth is like a general therapist, Cosmo is a Psychiatrist.

One thing I haven’t mentioned about Cosmo is that she tries to adopt or parent any version of her kids, this goes as far as including Ruin. And it wouldn’t be the first time she’s taken in one or more of the other bad Celestial’s that Sun and Moon disagreed with. When Eclipse version 1 was first dispelled out of Sun’s head, Moon said he was ether badly damaged out in the forest somewhere or gone, in this AU I’d say he’d be badly damaged and she’d go out to find him and repair him, taking him back to her place for supervision and some personal one on one time. Before that she absolutely would’ve done her damndest to love both Eclipse and Lunar, she’d help Eclipse with smaller non-harmful projects like teaching him how tools work for the first time, and she’d teach Lunar how to make his own bean bag, go shopping with him to buy the materials for it and so on.

Sun, Moon and Lunar wouldn’t be happy about it that she chose to save Eclipse but she’d promise them that he’d be the biggest form of grounded she could muster. Which for Eclipse might as well have been boot camp for the marines. She’d also adopt Bloodmoon, asking Moon to create a sort of blood alternative that she could substitute. I have a design for him that I’m working on as well, bear with me on that one.

Then would come Eclipse V.2 with added Solar Flare. She’d be fast to try and snatch them up as well, showing that Eclipse that the original didn’t perish and is actually with her. Eclipse would still do nothing with the star once he got it, and once New Moon managed to come up with a plan to get rid of the star Cosmo would go as far as to follow Clipse V.2 to Nice Eclipse’s dimension to make sure he’d survive but to also make sure that the star got destroyed. But unfortunately this’d kill Cosmo in the process. Needless to say when V.2 came back through the portal with a body full of blood and burns on him, the remaining fam weren’t happy.

Until Cosmo would come back as the animatronic she is now. Yep! Cosmo first started out as human, and ever since V.1 Clipse had started going down a darker path than she would’ve liked, she’d asked Old Moon in secret to have a device that would take pictures of her brain so an AI consciousness of her could live on as an animatronic should anything come to happen to her.

So the whole Celestial family was pretty shocked when she came walking into the Daycare like nothing had happened, and then would proceed to dog pile her with hugs and tears.

I’d rant more but this is already pretty long. So yeah, Cosmo wasn’t always human, she’d be adopting 2 versions of Eclipse and the OG Bloodmoon, and then Eclipse V.3, BM V.2, Ruin, Solar and Earth would be showing up. I got a lot to draw for them all. Hope this fills in more about who Cosmo is.

[cheshirecaine]

Ichigo! For the character Ask Game!

Ichigo! I got excited and started linking my fics like I had to prove my answers. Honestly, it’s just making me realise what things I like that I haven’t written(/finished ;-;;;).

How I feel about this character

Deserves the best—love him. I feel like by default, we or maybe just I, tend to pick a favourite character from the cast minus the main character (‘Who’s your favourite Bat? Batman doesn’t count’). So I’ve always considered it a funny little testament to Ichigo’s likability that a list of my fave Bleach characters will always include this guy.

Hot as shit, smarter than he’s given credit.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Grimmjow OTP. Rukia. Sometimes Shinji. But he’s the fandom bicycle, so I’m very open on this front—e.g. Aizen, several Gin fics, a hastily thrown-together Soifon fic (NSFW, 700w), Byakuya.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Isshin—I don’t care if I’m boring. I love this canon father-son relationship and no moment in Bleach ever breaks me as hard as the Fullbringer Arc scene where Ichigo thinks his dad has betrayed him too.

Honourable mentions: Kurosaki family wildness (1k, I do actually write fic sometimes okay). Ichigo/Renji brotp (or romantically). Ichigo/Kon—underrated brothers (gets a mention in the Kurosaki family fic). Chad. Actually, I love writing fics where Ichigo gets DMC’d by Shinji (exhibit: one of my fave parts of this 3k Ginjo/Ichigo fic is pretending it’s about pies when it’s actually Shinji therapising Ichigo and accidentally himself).

My unpopular opinion about this character

I can’t enjoy grimdark/Fuck you World and especially my Dad and Comrades But Mostly My Dad!Ichigo depictions. Which is fine, that just means I’m not the target audience. However, this is my post, and I’ll soapbox if I want to, so here’s: My Unpopular Opinion about Bleach Fanon.

Vengeful versions of him don’t make sense to me beyond an in-the-moment Hollowfied rage situation. Frankly, his struggle to commit in battle to killing Aizen really hammers in just how much he is not at all in it to hurt people. He beat Grimmjow in a fight and then saved his life while injured. He spent his entire final fight with Aizen sombre about having to kill a man whose heart he fully understood.

And yeah, I don’t really think it’s a failure of canon to not have him idk sit down with everyone he knows and say “You were mean to me”, cos I think fandom has a very selective memory and lens with which they approach a text/story.

Like, I don’t think Ichigo stumbles into relationships eyes shut, I think he is incredibly aware and able to be vulnerable. Kinda like that Doctor Who quote: “Do you think that I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?” Except it’s him letting Ukitake not disclose what the badge does, not interrogating his dad on what he’s doing with Urahara, being determined to help Rukia and Orihime and frankly Renji and more in spite of their opinions on it.

Anyway, I love him.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

More skilful fighting that isn’t just a big panel spread and power—sorry Kubo. More of the tactical close-combat fighting or the tricks Zangetsu taught him. Boy’s a genius, lemme see that shit.

Alternatively, would accept Grimmjow meeting DILF!Ichigo and having a conniption.

Thanks for the q, bud <3

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave

AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.

Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.

So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:

Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.

Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.

He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.

(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)

(This is a very helpful conversation.)

BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."

Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.

It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.

Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).

The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.

About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.

Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."

Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.

The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.

The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.

Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.

And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?

He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"

And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.

And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."

Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."

Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"

And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.

"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."

Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."

And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.

These are his friends' lives.

His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.

And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.

Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."

Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...

Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.

(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)

Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”

Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.

Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.

Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.

Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?

At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.

Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.

(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)

(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)

(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)

[livingforthewhump]

okay okay what if paladin gives caroline truth serum and asks her questions. (in front of hugo)

the questions would be stuff like “do you enjoy being here, deep down?” or “if you had to choose between killing yourself or hugo, who would you kill?”

but the twist is, caroline is under mind control. her answers to the questions are all curated by paladin.

(this can be taken as a what if or a prompt. I love you (/p) and your work so much, keep going!! you’re an amazing writer!!)

I am absolutely IN LOVE with this concept ajdwjs—I have no excuse for how long it takes me to actually write things but thank you all so much for sticking with me!!!

First Previous

—

Caroline’s ears were ringing when Paladin came to get her. She’d listened to Hugo’s muffled screams for so long that she was dizzy from worrying about what Paladin was doing to him. Paladin’s mouth was quirked into a slight smile, eyes dancing with a sick kind of enjoyment that Caroline knew only came from him torturing someone.

She swallowed dryly. “Wh-what did you do to him?”

“Nothing he won’t recover from.” Paladin paced over to her and knelt down to her level, meeting her wide-eyed gaze. “He said some very interesting things, while we were talking.”

Her heart stuttered, as if it were afraid to beat.

“Aren’t you curious, doll?” Paladin gave her an amused look and paused, waiting for a response. When she gave him none, he finally sighed and continued, reaching out a hand to card through her hair. “He said that you don’t want to be here with me. Isn’t that odd?”

Caroline stared blankly forward as he tilted her chin up towards him.

“Well, doll? Is that true? Do you really want to leave me?”

“No,” she whispered, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. “I want to stay here.”

Paladin studied her for a moment, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and trembling chin, then released her with a small laugh. “Good. Not nearly convincing enough, but we’ll get there, hm? For now, you just need a bit of help if you’re going to convince our dear vigilante of that.”

Caroline’s eyebrows furrowed as she processed the meaning behind the words, and she barely had time to suck in a sharp breath before his power enveloped her.

Hugo wished he could smash the camera to pieces. It was obnoxious, really, the way it had been blinking its little red light at him nonstop for hours, letting him know that every single second was being recorded. Unfortunately, being tied to a chair, the best thing he could do was give it a dignified glare, to at least show that he was unimpressed.

Suddenly, the door clanged open, and Hugo jumped in a decidedly undignified fashion.

Paladin traipsed in, pulling Caroline along behind him. The poor girl looked dazed, tear tracks drying on her face as she weakly fell to her knees in front of Hugo when Paladin released her.

Hugo tried to catch her eye as Paladin rummaged around somewhere over his shoulder, but Caroline’s gaze remained resolutely on the ground.

“Here we are,” said Paladin, coming to stand behind Caroline, one hand on her head with the other loosely holding a syringe filled with clear-looking liquid.

“What is that?” Hugo demanded, jerking against his restraints despite how weak his muscles were from exertion. “What are you doing to her?”

Paladin snorted, rolling his eyes. “Oh, calm down, Hugo. It’s just a truth serum. Little Caroline here is going to clear up some…misconceptions you have about our situation.”

Hugo briefly thought of the irony that Paladin of all people had access to a truth serum (if he drank it, would the hero just spontaneously combust?), but it was quickly drowned out by the horror he felt for Caroline.

“Get away from her,” he snarled.

Paladin’s fingers tightened in her hair, lifting her head up. “You see Hugo, even when my doll has learned her place, you still haven’t. I’m hoping this will fix you of that.” And he stabbed the serum into her neck.

Caroline cried out and slumped forward, but was held in place by Paladin’s hand in her hair. Hugo breathed heavily as he tugged forward, staring into Caroline’s glazed eyes.

“Caroline! Are you okay?”

She blinked, once. Twice. Her chapped lips cracked open to form a word. “No.”

And, of course, Hugo already knew that. But hearing the raw admission from her was like a punch to the gut.

His focus slammed back into Paladin. “Let her go, you b--”

Paladin’s power slammed into him, closing up his throat even as Paladin smiled calmly. “I’ll be asking the questions from now on. Don’t make me gag you.”

He waited until Hugo’s fingertips twitched sporadically from lack of air before releasing his hold and allowing him to breathe again.

While Hugo gasped and hacked, Paladin’s hand went to Caroline’s chin, forcing her to look at him with her glazed, terrified eyes.

“Now, doll, deep down, do you really want to be here?” Paladin asked softly.

Hugo shot Paladin a glare, wondering what he was trying to do.

Then Caroline’s weak voice met his ears. “Yes, I do.”

It sounded like an admission. He gaped at her. “What?” It was so blatantly untrue that he almost wondered for a moment if it wasn’t.

Paladin’s smile grew, but he kept his eyes on Caroline. “Tell me why, doll.”

“I belong to you. Where else would I want to go? I want to be good for you, and, and make you happy with me.” She stared up at him with an adoring expression that tore at Hugo’s heart.

That wasn’t her.

Was it?

“Good. Now, tell me, do you regret saving him?” Paladin turned her head so that she was looking at Hugo.

His jaw tightened while she looked at him blankly for a moment before nodding shallowly. “Yes.”

He looked away against the tears stinging his vision. If he had to save either her or himself, of course he would pick her, but that wasn’t what the question was.

“You know, Caroline, I don’t think he believes you,” Paladin said, smirking. “Are you sure you're telling the truth?”

“Of course.” She seemed surprised, like there could be no other alternative.

“And why don’t you want him here, doll?”

“He's just getting in the way. He’s not worth it. He thinks he’s helping, but he’s not.”

“Forgive me for not seeing that as a bad thing,” Hugo drawled, face setting against the stab he felt in his heart. Those words were so, so similar to the ones that had been thrown at him by the person closest to him. He’d desperately tried to believe it wasn’t the truth, but deep down, it really was, wasn’t it? Even if Caroline was coming from the wrong perspective entirely, the words themselves weren’t wrong. Hugo clenched his fists until his fingernails cut into his palm. “Now are you just about finished, or is there more?”

“That was all,” Paladin smirked. “I just wanted to give you something to think about for a while.”

He lifted Caroline up and left the room with her, and once again Hugo was alone with the blinking red light of the camera.

—

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @lonesome--hunter @whole-and-apart-and-between @written-to-death @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @villain-enthusiast @hurting-fictional-people @kixngiggles @whumpfessional @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @1phoenixfeather @chartreusephoenix @kemonoinuzuka @sunflower1000 @1becky1 @multifandoms-multishipper @susanshinning @shadowylemon @onestopheroxvillain @freefallingup13 @basica11yg33ky

[valkyriegoddesses]

Thoughts on ACOSF

⚠️ SPOILERY, SO DON’T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE BOOK ⚠️

⚔️ the good and the bad, I’ll try to get rid of the bad thoughts first and keep the positive ones for the end but idk where my line of thought would go as I recall and type so here we go

• Nesta’s journey of healing is hers and hers alone. She owes no one in the inner circle anything, they didn’t do her any favors. (Now before I delve into this, I just want to say that I see they (Feyre and Elain only) had good intentions, but I’m going to point out everywhere it went wrong, probably against what they planned, but still it went horribly wrong) She was still suffering all the same after she got her free will stripped from her, the decision made for her by packing her things without informing her or listening to her opinion or trying to have a more lenient approach to the matter, being threatened that her second option is being thrown to the human lands where she could die, being lied to about the consequences of her actions in law, being told she “belongs in the Hewn City”, being told she’s “a pathetic waste of life”, and choosing the place everyone admits they hate going to aka the House of Wind, as her destination to heal. Knowing full well she can’t make the descent down these stairs and would be imprisoned without the power to winnow. And instead of being given her space and time, they push her to talk and interact when all she’s trying to do is have some distance from everyone. Some time to herself, to not feel anything, to control the storm of thoughts raging on the inside. And she’s pushed time and time again to face her trauma and heal RIGHT NOW because apparently, they’re timing her. And she shouldn’t have her emotions on display, when she tells them she doesn’t feel like talking yet she’s forced to interact and socialize. Anyone who’s been forced to interact against their will knows how draining it is. Now imagine this coupled with being triggered by water, and being triggered by fire, which are a daily necessity. And imagine everyone got a decade or more to deal with their trauma and are still not entirely healed, yet your time is up after little over a year. It sucks. And I hate how what triggered them to action wasn’t that she was wasting away to nothing, but the bill. When the bill was high, they drew the line. And I hate how in the narrative, the “conversation” -even though I wouldn’t call it that because only one side was allowed to talk and the other side wasn’t allowed to object- was written in a way that made it about THEIR image, when she’s frequenting taverns. THEIR image, when she doesn’t show up to their parties. THEIR image when the bill for her drinking is high. (They say it’s too much money, as if they don’t have all the riches and they all spend money on things that are absolutely not necessary, and THEY drowned her with gifts, LOADS of gifts, after she sacrificed her power to save her sister, which she didn’t do for payment, but anyway the thought is, they had the money and just like they thought Amren deserves payment for what she did in the war, they should’ve kept the same energy for Nesta because she had no small role in that either). I just think they handled it badly. Not exactly how you’d talk to someone suffering from PTSD, depression and survivor’s guilt. For one, threatening a worse alternative isn’t helpful. Secondly, There were way too many people in that room. More than necessary. Feyre and Elain would’ve been enough AS HER FAMILY (and I’ll get to details on this in a moment). And Feyre was the only decent one handling it as someone who actually was looking for a better outcome and really had the intention to help, someone who wasn’t there just to humiliate. Amren and Rhys were only there to land jabs and poke at her insecurities and bad coping mechanisms. Rhys used his power on her to force her to obey him and we all know how it’s a big NO among them. Many of those in the IC had worse coping mechanisms. But what she was doing was too much for them to handle? She was self-destructing. And she kept her distance. If I told someone I needed my space and they kept poking their head in my business, I sure as hell would lash out. When someone needs space, their privacy should be respected. No matter how long it takes them.

And I don’t see where the problem with her drinking was. She never showed up to events drunk. We never saw her hungover the day after. She was spending some money on drinking yes, but it did not get out of hand. She was also spending money on food and gambling. All in all, not the worst coping mechanism among those who were criticizing her. Not to mention that everyone who criticized her were drinkers as well, and they all slept around during some part of their lives.

Now the problem with the presence of other people in that room, other than Feyre (if Elain didn’t wish to attend and preferred to have some space between her and and Nesta, it’s her choice) anyway, only Feyre’s presence was required. Everyone else there was just an accessory, only adding stress to the atmosphere, forcing Nesta to get on the defensive with the way they slut shamed her, shamed her for drinking, shamed her for not being able to take a bath even though she told Feyre how the water still scares her, etc. I can see Sarah wanted it to look like a “family” intervening. Like some tough love sort of thing. But she failed. Simply because, the IC might be Feyre’s found family and she might take such a talk from them because it would really be tough love. As for Nesta, she doesn’t view them as family. She barely knows them. So for a group of strangers, or let’s say newly acquainted people, to sit around her and point out her every flaw and shame her for every misstep, who wouldn’t lash out at that? It’s enough she’s forced to spend time among them, on holidays she doesn’t really believe in, where they force her to attend but actively ignore her presence and treat her like a ghost. Why make her come if they don’t enjoy her company? It’s just ridiculous. Then when she gets angry from all the pushing and lashes out and it’s entirely her fault. they’re all like “come to our gatherings where we will insult you, nitpick all your unhealthy coping mechanisms, but don’t be offended and seclude yourself, we all took decades to deal with our trauma and killed people while doing it but your coping mechanisms are unhealthy. And your actions are unforgivable because you lash out at us when we shove ourselves down your throat. How can you not like us? Everyone has to like us.” Then she gets thrown away to a war camp, a FUCKING WAR CAMP, while a big part of her trauma is because of war. And instead of dealing with her face-to-face, while being gentle and showing her they’re on her side WITHOUT JUDGEMENT, WITHOUT WINCING AND GLANCES AT EACH OTHER AND INNER CONVERSATIONS ABOUT HER WHERE SHE’S EXCLUDED, they’re like “we’re tired of your shit so here’s a house you can stay in while you sort this out away from our merry little circle, which has its nose up your business anyway. But still, sort it out away from us.” And in that house she became more and more closed off and her healing - and I will die on this hill - her healing DID NOT start until the house came into play which was her own doing. And it kicked off because of Emerie and Gwyn, who both didn’t judge her, didn’t demonize her, didn’t only see the bad in her, but accepted her as she was and loved every part of her. Showed her that she was not a waste of life and there are things to live for. As for the beloved inner circle? Beyond insulting her and her coping mechanisms, They don’t tell her about the weapons SHE made, because pro-colonization Amren doesn’t think it’s wise, that Nesta would use it against the world. (Amren do you hear how stupid you sound?) they always villianize her, assuming she’d be out to take the world and take revenge on everyone who ever glanced her way. They assumed she was bad, they assumed because she was angry, that she would use her power for killing and terrorizing and building an Empire like they all do. When all she wanted to do was listen to music and be around good company who passed her no judgement.

Anyway, getting into some details with each character:

Feyre: I hated Feyre’s “crying over scrambled eggs because my image is destroyed my sister spent so much money on drinking”. And the fact that when telling Nesta she was doing this for her own good, she told her she was embarrassed for her own image in the same breath. But beyond that I was fine with her. I loved her reconcilation with Nesta. I loved that she was one who wanted to give Nesta more time, recognized that she needed her own time. I love them together. I think without everyone’s interference, their reconcilation would’ve happened much faster. They were already making progress before ~some people~ ruined everything and caused Nesta to be closed off again. I don’t hate that Nesta sacrificed her power to save Feyre in the end. She’s her sister and she loves her and this is not the first time she proved this. She would do anything to protect her sisters and she hates herself for the times she misstepped. Even though it wasn’t her fault and there was a full grown man sitting there who conveniently got a redemption arc. What angers me though, is that it was only after this, that the inner circle viewed her as someone who is worth their respect. And made the sacrifice materialistic by drowning Nesta with gifts. She didn’t do it for their acceptance or for their love, or for payment. She did it because her sister needed help. Period. (Sidenote: I’m writing a post where I delve deep into their relationship, which I will eventually post, because I think I reached an understanding about their relationship)

Elain: let me get something out of the way, she has power. She has free will, she’s not a baby. She’s a grown woman who doesn’t need coddling. I hate how the fandom views her as a baby. And she’s constantly infantilized, preventing her from reaching her full potential. Now that that’s out of the way, here are my 2 cents on her, since she wasn’t in this book much: Nesta’s wording was very clear, yet I’ve seen this scene misread all over the timeline. Nesta said “I sat by your side for weeks. Weeks, while you wasted away, refusing food and drink. While you appeared to hope you’d just wither and die. No one suggested you either shape up or be shipped back to the human lands.” Nesta’s problem is NOT that Elain wasn’t “there” as in “by her side”. She explicitly stated she needed space. Nesta’s problem was that she stood between Elain and anyone who might tell her to snap out of it and lock her trauma in some dark room in the back of her head. She made sure Elain had her time. While Elain agreed to pack her bags and didn’t prevent them from shipping her away, deciding her time was up. All she wants is time, and Elain didn’t have her back on this. Then we have the fact that Elain slut-shamed Nesta. And then when Nesta comes to the party this time, Elain meets her at the door and her reaction instead of saying hi and leaving it at that or simply ignoring her, is “did Feyre pay you this time?” I’m torn on where to stand on the Elain-Nesta situation, a part of me is disappointed in Elain. I think she should’ve handled this better than anyone else because she was there, she witnessed the trauma happen, Nesta was there for her, they grew up being inseparable the entire time. If anyone should understand her better than anyone else, it’s Elain. So why did she abandon her to everyone’s judgement? And a part of me is like maybe she knew whatever she voted wouldn’t matter because the IC were taking the step anyway, and didn’t want to be there when it happened. Or maybe she’s still dealing with her own trauma in her own way and doesn’t want a confrontation. But I always circle back to the sl*t-shaming and the shaming about the drinking, and then I think about the Solstice scene where as soon as she saw her she was like “did Feyre pay you this time?” And a part of me is angry about the shaming undertone of that too, while some part of me thinks that maybe Elain felt unwanted along with everyone else and that in order for Nesta to meet them, she has to be paid, but we will never know unless we hear it from her.

Rhysand: that piece of shit, misogynist, who used his powers to compel Nesta to obey his orders, pulled rank on her, taunted and threatened her every step of the way and utilized her for his own agenda, and was *surprised* to learn the woman has trauma. Took him being inside her head and unable to wake her up from the nightmare, because the behavior she was exhibiting wasn’t enough. [insert shocked pickatchu meme]. I also would like to add that him playing the protective love interest from his mate’s own sister, WHO COULD’VE HARMED HER IF SHE WANTED TO, but never wanted to because she’s not a bad person, is so cheap. Like- you, the guy who drugged her and made her give you lap dances, are afraid for her sake… from her sister? Who only ever used words as jabs and is generally rude? Or do you feel like you’re overpowered and are trying to fill the void in your toxic masculinity and reassert dominance ?

Cassian: He was patient with her, and probably the healthiest person in the inner circle who dealt with her until she was okay, but he still silently agreed with all the shit that was said about her. Shit she didn’t deserve to be said about her as someone going through trauma. He mocked whatever progress she made on the stairs calling it pathetic in the beginning. He stayed silent when Nesta was stripped of her will, when she was told she belongs in the Court of Nightmares, when her fate was decided for her, when she was being lied to, when she was threatened to be thrown to the humans who would kill her. He made some progress and understood her better with time, but it doesn’t excuse how he stayed silent when she was being mistreated. Specially since he claims her loves her. He also stayed silent as the Inner Circle despised her presence but still used her to reach what they’re plotting for. He progressed, and he got better, I’ll give him that. But still, as someone who claims he loves her the way he does, he shouldn’t have allowed his friends to manipulate and use her in their schemes but then exclude her from everything else, even knowledge about her own power. But I love that he was patient, that he worked to understand her, that he grew to stand up for her. I would argue that they are the healthiest ship written by SJM this far.

Mor: fucking Mor, who experienced trauma, told Nesta she belongs in the court of Nightmares. Where she was abused herself. Knowing women are viewed as objects there, knowing Nesta would recieve abuse there. She said that, wishing abuse on someone who she simply didn’t like and had some quarrels with. They never saw eye to eye and that’s fine. They always had sharp tongues when talking to each other and that’s fine. What’s not fine though, is that THIS of all things, seemed so out of character for Mor. Now, she never knew Nesta was a survivor of SA. But as someone who helps SA victims, she’s the last person I expected such a comment from. It felt very out of character. I hate that this is the Bi character in all of this mess. Of all people, a hypocrite is the Bi person. The LGBTQ community deserves better. I thought about it, and maybe Mor, being like a stranger to Nesta, and seeing her ignore Cassian in front of the Illyrians who already look down on him, made her angry to the point where she just wanted to land a jab and didn’t think her words would mean anything. Maybe all she wanted to do was stand up for Cassian, but what she said was definitely not true and not okay. I wanted her and Nesta to have a talk about it, but also she grew to have decent conversations with her and she helped her when she and Cassian had that fight. So I don’t know, maybe it’s a silent progress between them.

Amren: this one told her she was a waste of life. What a great way to deal with someone who’s suffering from PTSD and depression and having suicidal thoughts, Amren. Tell them they’re a waste of life, enforce every thought they are having as fact, push them to the point where they doubt they should be breathing, and when they’re told they could tumble down a mountain and break their bones while hiking, their first thought would be “good”. Amren deserves a medal, a badge of honor for being the 500+ old woman who has healthy ways of dealing with traumatized people telling them they don’t deserve to live because the thoughts of their power and dealing with controlling that power right now is so overwhelming. Amren, who decided that because Nesta was always angry, she had no right to know that she used her power unknowingly and forged powerful weapons. Amren, who was pushing for colonization throughout this book, was afraid of Nesta misusing her power. Villainizing Nesta’s every thought, as if Nesta wasn’t overwhelmed from the thought of possessing so much power, as if Nesta doesn’t refuse to use her powers and train. As if Nesta is out there hiding as she masters her power to reemerge and turn the world upside down. You’re the one who’s pushing Rhys to colonize other territories and become high king, Amren. Maybe *you* should be locked up in the house of wind for therapy. What hurts most in this is Amren was her friend. She trusted Amren. Amren said that shitty line to her and then lied to her and manipulated her and used her to further Rhys’s agenda. She flopped from telling Feyre that Nesta is immortal and a few years are nothing, and she should be given time. She would not betray her trust, to whatever she turned into in ACOSF. And everyone give SJM a round of pats on the back and an applause for making Amren the wise one here and making Nesta, the traumatized one who was wronged, get on her knees and apologize. I mean- if you thought this apology scene was necessary, then clarification about the fight between them was just as necessary. Or you include neither scene. But deeming the apology important and not the incident? This is some victim blaming on a whole other level.

The House of Wind: The house of wind was honestly one of the best parts of this book. It was Nesta, “Lady Death” as they call her, breathing life into something, and it was gentle, and it was patient, and it was understanding, and it pushed her to be healthier without judging, without throwing insults or slut-shaming. It hated that she didn’t eat? It kept waiting for her until her body gave out and she had to eat. It didn’t like her drinking? It gave her water when she asked for wine. It showed her its darkest part where she found the greatest warmth as well, as if saying don’t be ashamed of your darkness because in it you’ll find light, and it didn’t abandon her or stop responding to her when she was angry. It was actively by her side, without any judgement, only support and pushing her to fix the behaviours without dissing her. and it was everything those people around her weren’t. It was family.

Gwyn: their first meeting wasn’t at all what you would call “friendly”, to a fault by Nesta. Gwyn didn’t even know anything about Nesta, yet she didn’t react with even more anger as ~others~ did, she didn’t fear Nesta, or give a retort, or get angry and lash out at her. She took the blow and was, with all the calm in the world, like fine, you want to tell on me, go tell. And Nesta did go tell on her, then realized by herself how she acted rashly. And later helped Gwyn without being asked to, by swapping the book so Merrill doesn’t scold her. And their friendship grew to the point where Gwyn, a traumatized person who couldn’t dare leave the library, started training with her, was her friend and had conversations with her that didn’t center her trauma or her coping mechanisms being analyzed. She went out of the library for the first time in 2 years when she knew Nesta needed her by her side. She occupied her mind with stories of Valkyries, women being strong and unyielding in a society which didn’t allow it. She took her hand and gave her a purpose in life to work for. Gave her a friend who didn’t judge, a kind face in the maelstorm of judgemental faces. Until she felt like a safe space to Nesta to the point where she spilled all her thoughts, the ones she could only admit to herself, to Gwyn, letting her inside those walls. And when she braced for judgement, she didn’t receive it. Gwyn dealing with someone’s trauma, as someone who’s been through trauma herself, is one of the beautiful corners of this book

Emerie: Another woman with trauma. She sees Nesta enter her store, of course she knows who she is, yet she doesn’t judge her. Nesta asks about making the fatigues warmer, Emerie says she’ll ask, but it’s costly. Nesta says then she can’t afford it, admits that she was cut off, Emerie, as a stranger, doesn’t judge her. She says she could make them anyway and she can pay her as she can. Because no one should feel cold. It’s simple, irrelevant. Nesta wouldn’t freeze to death, she as a stranger has no obligation to help, it’s a simple reasoning. “You shouldn’t feel cold”. It’s enough for her to help Nesta. Something as mundane as feeling cold. She asks her to join her for a meal. And Nesta asks her if she would join the training, which Emerie refuses. and Nesta blurts out that she didn’t take her for a coward. And later, Nesta sends her the herbs she wishes to get which she can’t get often because of her location, and it’s a message of “you too deserve to see what’s best in the world, to go out and experience the beautiful parts and live, not just exist”. So Emerie goes to training with her as well, and they bond over romance novels. Emerie also reaches a point where she opens up about her own trauma, and tells the truth about what she faced and her survival. This girl who is 50-something at least, who has never had friends, living a lonely secluded life, finally found someone who was trustworthy enough to be around and form a bond with. As for the fact that she is a PoC, and the illyrians are portrayed as this group of savages who abuse their women and their women have no say in their lives and futures and how they clip their women’s wings, when wings, wingspan and wingplay heavily imply that wings are erogenous parts of the body and wing clipping seems to be the equivalent of Circumcision, which again so happens to be done by the “PoC savages who abuse their women”, hits a whole lot as fucking racist and xenophobic. PoC deserve a storyline where they’re not viewed as the villains.

Azriel: I loved his relationship with Nesta. He was the best chaperon™️, he never spoke in judgement toward her. There was a silent understanding between them. However, I’m not against him showing his feelings toward Elain or her toward him. It’s fine, if that’s what they both want. I don’t think Lucien is the type to call for a blood duel. He simply brings her presents and attends when invited, he doesn’t force himself on her and keeps his distance. However I did hate that Azriel took the necklace and gave it to Gwyn, as a secondhand. I know his only intention was to make her smile but the necklace wasn’t meant for her. It’s not a trial by error, he can’t just keep trying out with different women every time he fails with one. And I’ll just leave this here.

The elephant in the room: the entire IC is involved in this, them all blaming Nesta, framing her as the wrong person, when she told Feyre about the dangers of her pregnancy? I don’t care if she did it while she was angry, her heart was in the right place. She got hurt from them deciding her fate without her involvement, voting on her, not once, but twice, about her fate because she wasn’t fast enough to deal with her trauma, then again when deciding if she should know about what she did with her own power and the weapons. and she showed Feyre what was really at play. Protecting her from what she faced with the Inner Circle. Just because she was angry while doing it does not mean she did it out of spite. She did it to expose them, specially Amren at that point. But I don’t get how it was twisted to “because she wanted to hurt Feyre”. She wasn’t even angry at Feyre. But you all would rather suck up to the Inner Circle than confront the fact that they’re hypocrites and liars with a propaganda. They’re evil. They fear Nesta using her power to seize control of everyone because it’s how THEY are. With all this High King crap. Basically colonization dreams. With how they press rank whenever it suits them, and lie about the law to win arguments. It’s because those who are inherently bad think everyone is bad just like them.

Other Elephants in the room which have been here a long time: the thing with blaming Nesta for not being the breadwinner… I could never get it. Some have money-earning skills, others don’t. She, at the point of her life when she was human, was only trained in dancing and appealing to men socially so she could uplift the family’s social status. She couldn’t hunt. Feyre could. And NEITHER, should’ve been the breadwinner. Nesta was willing to starve to death if it would push her father to do something. Feyre wasn’t willing to wait and starve or watch anyone starve. But it doesn’t mean Nesta was at fault. She was only 3 years older than Feyre. Let’s leave the “the oldest child has to step in for the parents when the parents fail” mentality in the past. It’s ridiculous. Nesta was under no obligation to be the breadwinner. And she suffered self-flagellation regularly for letting Feyre walk out there and hunt. But she literally had no skills that when she thought of something to do, she could only think of selling herself on the streets. The parents were abusive, both of them. Favoring one child over the other and planting rivalry between the siblings. “i love you” means nothing. NOTHING, when there is no action to prove it. And if anything, this book made me realize that Nesta was never okay. She was never in a good place mentally. I mean, I knew, but this book just proved it. Her mother favored her alright, but it was not in a loving way. She simply exploited her to climb the social ladder. She didn’t give her love, she gave her instructions. She enabled the grandmother to beat her, and instill some “harsher punishments” one of which Nesta still holds the scars for. She was called worthless, as a child. Why? Because she made a wrong step in a dance. She was physically and verbally abused, and her mother let it happen. Yet she was the only one who would give Nesta the time of day so Nesta still loved her. As a child, her mother was the only person who showed interest in her and she clung to. However twisted it was, it’s the only love she ever got. The only love she knew. Then she lost her. and later the family also lost their wealth. So all she was taught to do her entire life suddenly became meaningless because she can’t achieve what her mother “trained” her to do. And we know the rest of the story. She never felt at home, not even when her mother lived and she still had that wealth. She admitted as much. She was never fine. She might’ve appeared the part, but it was never true. And since she was so good at masking her emotions, nobody was the wiser.

side note: As for her power being the “bare minimum” now, there better not be a plothole, since Rhysand couldn’t contain merely the “surface of her power” because it was too much. and if that’s all she retained, then it’s good enough for me.

[karama9]

Snake Eyes

I haven't seen the movie, this is just reacting to a synopsis. Still, SPOILERS AHEAD.

If I go by that, Snake Eyes was basically given Storm Shadow's descent and redemption arc. With Storm Shadow only starting a descent at the end not for revenge over the murder of a family member but because he's angry he lost what he saw as a birth right by breaking a rule in a moment of anger.

*deep breath*

Ok, so context. Here's how I see Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow as they were in the original run of the comics... I mean, there are tons of remakes and alternate takes, but I'm talking about my preferred versions.

Snake Eyes is a tragic hero, dialed up to ten basically. He's had all these tragedies, continues to have them, and either because of them or in spite of them (you choose, he won't say or show any feelings either way, by design) he's just a hero often risking himself to prevent tragedies from happening to others and fighting bad guys. "All this, and it just made him kind" type thing. Except he's the variety of "kind" that has semi-automatic rifles and an assortment of sharp toys, and uses them on a lot of public menaces. He's not just driven to violence by trauma and anger, it's very, very directed at the bad guys and often within specific or implied orders. Part of it might be rage, but he is a force for good and generally (key word, he has moments, I know) under control.

Storm Shadow's arc is a redemption story. When we first meet him, he's with the bad guys. We find out he desperately wants the identity of his uncle's murderer both to get revenge and clear his own name and serving the bad guys is how he hopes to get that. He eventually decides it's not worth it, prompted by the necessity to save a victim he finds particularly worthy of being saved, but doesn't give up on revenge just yet. He eventually does forego it despite a chance to take it. Once they are no longer trying to kill him, he's loyal and close to his clan again, and the whole thing would be moot if he didn't care about rejoining his family: he could have just disappeared more completely and not make himself visible through working for an international terrorist organization under a name that literally translates to his family name.

I'm quite attached to that story arc. It was the first redemption arc I really got into (I was young) and it got me obsessed with the character for quite a while.

So, to see the arc literally transferred almost blow for blow to Snake Eyes, who could have been a perfectly good hero by just... being his normal hero self, and to see Storm Shadow get his obligatory excuse to join Cobra changed from that arc, with the whole love of family and desperation aspects of it, to being pissed about having his future title taken away and choosing to walk away forever and just become a villain while he's at it, why not...

Yeah. What is it with adaptations and being SO desperate to mess Storm Shadow up?? This one OBVIOUSLY liked the original character so much they had to use his story almost exactly, but they made it happen to the OTHER GUY. Because Snake Eyes is more marketable I guess?

Urgh.

Anyway, if you want to see how far my obsession went, just go read my stuff, especially Arashikage (by karama9) on fanfiction dot net or archive of our own. And leave a review or comment please, it'd be nice to see others enjoying Tommy getting hyped up (I LIKE him OK?) rather than thrown down the drain for ONCE. That's why I wrote the thing in the first place...

[sothatmyocshauntmealittleless]

No time to die - part 1/2

->part 2

author's note: so this is a piece I started writing when I got bored in a family gathering like two years ago, and I rewrote it recently. This is the first part and I haven't finished editing the rest but I estimate that there would be one or two more parts. The story is about two high school friends that meet after five years of having no contact with each other and their confrontation. Also the name is inspired by the song with the same name by Billie Eilish 'cause I was listening to it while writing a part of this and the song really suits the relationship between the characters.

~1800 words

I’m feeling a burning ache in my abdomen, and my mind is full of different scenarios that this could lead to, one worse that the other. What if I call an ambulance? I answer myself within a fraction of a second that it wouldn’t lead to pleasant things though the alternative which is bleeding to death isn’t ideal either. So just when I’ve finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and call an ambulance before I pass out, a name crosses my mind. It’s the best and the worst thing that I can do at the same time, but well sometimes your survival instincts would take over your overthinking abilities, no matter how strong they are. And despite all my hesitation, I know the number by heart.

She picks up the phone after few rings, “Hello?”, I’m a bit thrown off by how her voice is the same but her tone is different from the last time I’ve heard her, “Hi”, my voice shakes and I don’t know if it’s from the injury or hearing her voice again. “Riley? Is that you?”, somehow she could recognize me from just that one word and at least her tone is less formal now. “Yeah it’s me, listen I wanted to ask if you could come here now if you can, but it’s totally fine if you can’t make it.” Maybe it’s the shock of hearing someone from your past, or my shaky voice that she agrees to come without any other questions and I tell her my address in the calmest pace I can.

Until she arrives I spend my time overthinking on how bad of an idea it was to call her, and why would she even bother herself with my problems anymore, like who in their right mind would hurry in the middle of the night to heal someone from their past that they tried so hard to abandon. But careful knocks on the door save me from my thoughts. I open the door and for a moment think that the option of bleeding to death at least could’ve saved me from the awkwardness of this, before I manage to say “Thank you so much for coming, I really didn’t want to trouble you”, she replies “Not that I love getting surprise calls at midnight but what’s the occasion?” and then she takes a look at me with her perfect hazel eyes and sees it, the blood soaking my shirt and says “holy fuck Ri, what did… what happen- it doesn’t matter now”

It takes her only few moments to get into her other sleeve, the doctor she was trained to be, giving orders and analyzing the situation, only stopping once to curse me under her breath that I should’ve told her to bring her medical stuff and that I’m a lucky bastard that she didn’t come totally unprepared. Then her inner doctor takes charge completely. I tell myself maybe outer, you know it’s who she is now, heal first talk later that’s what she does.

“Take your shirt off”, I obey without making a snarky comment because even I can tell it would be inappropriate. I can’t really describe the process of her stitching me up, because I’ve never been a big fan of surgeries to the point I even skip them when they come up in movies, and maybe beside how pain makes everything hazy, I can’t wrap my head around the idea of her hands on me.

When it’s done she gives me some final instructions and tells me to don’t move from where I’m sitting for at least half an hour. Then standing in front of me without taking a step, she looks at her watch and her gaze lingers to the door and I know she’s thinking about leaving, but decides against it, at least for now.

“So are you gonna tell me how this happened?”, she asks gesturing towards my wound that is now stitched and bandaged. I guess I’m too exhausted for anything but the truth so I say “I was working on a case, and it didn’t end well.” She glares at me, “Well I can see that clearly, but how did it turn that way?”, “my client was a small business going to court against a big company, I had some dirty things on them but they weren’t enough proof so I was looking for more and they sent someone to scare me off I think, but um I tried to resist and it escalated quickly and I got a nice killer knife wound.” “It wasn’t fatal,” she says, “What?” I reply a bit shocked, “I said it wasn’t fatal, the knife didn’t go that deep, what? You thought I could fix a fatal cut with couple of stiches?” to that I mumble that I really trust her abilities and she rolls her eyes. I think at this point we’re past the formal greetings and small talks and now that the crisis is over she seems done with my shit so she continues “So you’ve finally fulfilled your dreams and became the woman you’ve always aspired to be, a detective/lawyer hunting down bad guys and giving them what they deserve” she doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and so if we’re going there now, I won’t try to hide it from mine either, “And you’ve became a doctor, a life you have dreamed of from the beginning, never even thinking to be anything else.”

She sighs and drops to the couch in front of me, “So this is the time that you’ve finally decided to talk about it.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. Maybe being in pain and exhausted sharpens your edges and makes the things you’ve hidden carefully to snap free because I can’t hold back when I say: “Says the one who just abandoned me overnight and decided to part ways forever without even a heads up.” The thing is I’ve imagined having this conversation so many times in so many different situations, that it actually happening doesn’t feel real, it feels like another one of those fantasies in my head except she is really here now, and my pulse is betraying me by beating so damn fast.

“I didn’t abandon you, If I had you’d still be bleeding.” And a part of me wants to just accept that and move on and embrace her, because I’ve missed her, hell I’ve missed her so much I want to hug her and never let go, and we have a lot to catch up on too, five years worth of memories. Five years that we were no more than outside observers in each other's lives, but the stronger part, the part that’s been hurting ever since wants to have this conversation, needs to have this conversation or else I would never stop imagining it in my head.

“Well maybe our definition of abandonment is a bit different, ‘cause changing your life course and treating me like a stranger and pretending like all our planning and dreaming for future never happened sure as hell fits in mine.”

“I never treated you like a stranger, you were the one who decided to not talk to me and have anything to do with me anymore and cut contact completely”

“Because I couldn’t do it like that anymore, like I was just another one in your new class, as if we didn’t have history, like what we had wasn’t something more. We used to joke about how disconnected we felt from them, not because we hated them because we were different, or at least I thought you were.”

“People change Riley.”

And for a few moments neither of us backfires anything else to the other, and my mind finds time to wonder for the thousandth time why we didn’t even call each other all these years. But well one of the things that made us close at first was how stubborn we were. I remember clearly when there was a debate competition in school and we were a team and crashed the whole thing. Beside our passion for the matter we were unstoppable, to the point that each match ended to the other team being like “dear god just let it go it’s over”, and remembering those days even now in the midst of this makes me a little calmer.

I can’t help but ask, “Was it because I tried to-“ before letting me finish she says “God no, you think I could transfer in a day? And for what? Not everything is about you, or what you do or what you want, I thought five years would be enough time to learn that”, and well I’ve always known that it was a coincidence that those two things happened successively. But deep down I couldn’t shove the idea away that it was all because she wanted to get away from me, that it was my fault and I shouldn’t have done it after all. I know that doubt has led me to be selfish, and to give up on trying to fix it, and to suffer more, and I don’t know how to defend it (or if I even should). Throughout all these years I’ve also imagined getting the answer to this question countless times, and how I’ll finally be at peace if I got this answer, but now I don’t feel relived as much as I wanted to.

“So you thought of me in those years?” I say in a hopeful tone still desperately clenching to this conversation, as if all this could be solved just if we have this talk. “Way to avoid my point right? You haven’t changed a bit, reckless and careless and always holding on to things that don’t matter much to the extent that you nearly got yourself killed,” but she says this in a kinder tone than the previous one, maybe even with a hint of worry in her voice. I finally give up on trying to get this conversation to fix it all, and decide that we’re too tired now, so I reply “I thought you said it wasn’t fatal.” A pause then, “It’s really late, are you going to leave now?” I hope that she can hear the silent ‘stay’ in what I just said. “I don’t think I can get a taxi now, can I? considering the time, and I don’t have the energy to explain all this to someone and wake them to pick me up”, “you can stay if you want?” and for all we’ve been through, I’m relieved when she agrees.

//end of part 1

->part 2

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter six respect

You will regret underestimating me and everything that I am.

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 9.9k warnings: mature language and themes, nsfw themes series masterlist

You didn’t need to be saved. Being saved was for children, and you were not a child. The countless hours you spent getting knocked over, hit, punched, and thrown around were all in preparation for this. In the real world, tapping on your opponent’s arm didn’t stop their tightening chokehold. In the real world, the exercises didn’t end when your opponent had knocked you down or held a blade to your neck or had the gun to your head.  

You just died. That was it. One mistake, and your story would be over. You wondered if this was your mistake. Laying in soft cotton sheets, warmth all around you, with your eyes on his handsome face. He was so pretty like this.  

You reached over slowly, your hand finding the messy, ruffled curls on his forehead and pushing them back. You exposed his closed eyes. His cheek was pressed into the pillow, soft breaths coming from between his lips, and just the faintest line of sunlight hit his chocolate curls. You smiled, just a little bit, just a tad.  

Oh, baby girl…what have you done?

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table. You sat up in bed, reaching for it quickly, answering the phone call. You checked to make sure Tom was still asleep before putting the phone to your ear.  

“Hey, daddy,” you said softly. You kept playing with Tom’s hair. You couldn’t help yourself. His curls were so soft and bouncy, and without any product in them, it was almost comforting to touch them.  

“Hello, sweetheart. You haven’t called me. If it weren’t for De Luca filling me in, I would think something happened to you.”

You sighed, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…caught up with work.”

“Work?”

“The jobs I do. For Tom.”

“Right. Your little…deal.”

You looked down. When your father heard about the agreement between you and Tom, he nearly got on a plane that minute. He had yelled, scolded, and spat at you for being young, incompetent, and selfish. You let him scream as much as he wanted to, and then you told him you weren’t leaving. You were furious. It had been months since you had spoken to him. You figured if he was calling you, he needed something from you.

“It’s not a little deal, daddy,” you rolled your eyes. “He promised me the information in exchange for a little work.”

“I know what you agreed upon, and you knew I wouldn’t like it. That’s why you waited until you signed your name before you told me. You knew even I would have to honor an agreement like that,” he said, clearly disapproving of your methods. You looked down. You wondered what De Luca had told him.  

Nothing about how I get things done probably.

“Well, no one on either side has died yet, so I would call it a success,” you shot back.

“And what will he do when he finds out that you know it’s him? Hmm? I got men in all corners, sweetheart, telling me Tom is running things down there. Does he think we’re that stupid, y/n?” He scoffed. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking. It occurred to you, but just a few hours ago, he had his lips on your neck and his fingers inside of you and a heat in his chest that told you otherwise.

He’s mine now.

“No. He thinks I’m distracted,” you lowered your voice, looking down at him. He hadn’t moved. “We’ve gotten…close.”

“Close? Close how?”

You slid out of bed slowly, opening the balcony doors beside the bed. You stepped out, looking out as the sun rose above the horizon. It was barely going to be morning. It was sort of peaceful outside, watching it come up.  

“We’re close, daddy. How close do you think? You’re not…you’re not stupid.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You wondered if something just distracted him or if he was thinking of Tom Holland touching his daughter. You figured he would be more upset about Tom touching something that he thought belonged to him than you being with dangerous men.

“If you’re that close, why don’t you just kill him?” He asked, in a voice so calm that it should’ve scared you, but you just stared out at the lake behind the house. You blinked for a moment. That question was valid, but the thought never occurred to you. Killing Tom would’ve been messy, and nothing good would have come of it. If your father had taught you anything, it was to not make a mess when you didn’t have something to clean it up with.

“Because I don’t have what I want yet,” you said softly. “For all it’s worth. You know…you and mom were pushed out of Manhattan a long time ago, and you never even got the chance to fight for it. Wouldn’t it be nice to…get it back?”

Your father was quiet for a moment. You knew you would hit a nerve, talking in that sweet voice about New York City. Your father didn’t care for the city that much, but New York was a sweet spot for resources, money, and property. It spoke a language that your father understood more than anything: power.  

“Your mother and I…we loved the city,” he said gently. “And it pained me to take her away from her home. You know, that’s where you were born.”

You smiled a bit.

“I know,” you looked down at your nails, picking at some of the polish. “I’m going to make it right, daddy. I promise. I-I…I know what I need to do.”

“y/n…you know there’s only one way to get those kinds of things in our world,” your father said lowly, cautiously. “And if you go through with this, it won’t be easy. You’ve been playing a part, baby, but if you do this, there’s no going back. Even if all goes well, after Tom is gone, you won’t be allowed to take on another lover, you understand that, don’t you? That’s how it works with people like us. And not to mention you’ll have to pretend all the way to the end. Live a lie. That’s not the kind of life I wanted for you.”

You felt tears in your eyes, barely. Your father was pretending to care, but you knew he wasn’t speaking those words because he loved you, he was telling you not to get more involved with Tom because then you wouldn’t be able to serve as his little pawn, his little princess. It only struck you at that moment that maybe your father hadn’t sent you to New York to prove everyone wrong, he sent you there to prove him right.  

Because if I fail, he’ll drag me back to Los Angeles by my hair. And he’ll never let me go.

“It’s the life that mom wanted for me,” you said weakly. “What do you think she was doing when you weren’t there, daddy? She did this so I could…so I could give it all to you. She knew you had your priorities in California, but I…I didn’t. And I don’t. Dad, if I…if I finish this, it’s not just Manhattan. It’s Brooklyn, Queens, the whole fucking thing, and London. Jesus, daddy, we’d run the whole goddamn thing.”

He chuckled a bit on the other end. You knew he would like that. It would buy you his love, even just for a little while.

“I guess I would need a princess on the other side running those things, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you squeezed the edge of the balcony.  

He doesn’t mean it. Stop fooling yourself. He knows. He knows.

“Y-You mean that, daddy?” You laughed a bit, breathless.

“Of course I do,” he said lowly. “y/n, all these years that I’ve looked the other way…you were right in front of me. My daughter, my star…my own flesh and blood. I love you, y/n.”

I hate you.

You heard the creak of the floorboards coming from inside, and you swallowed hard.  

“He’s coming,” you whispered into the phone, and you set the phone down, putting it on speaker.  

“So what will you have me do, y/n?” Your father’s voice was loud, but you pretended not to see Tom waiting by the door behind you. He was shirtless, just in his sweats, peeking out as he leaned against the doorway, listening intently. He wasn’t trying to hide, but you pretended not to notice him.  

“I love him, daddy,” you said softly, sincerely. “Even after all of this is over…after…I can’t leave. I’m in love with him.”

You’re not lying, are you?

Your father let out a sigh on the other end, and you waited. You wondered if your father believed that as the lie it was intended to be. You hoped he would.

“I will come to New York, y/n,” he took that as your cue. “And I will give him your hand. If that’s what you want.”

You smiled, “really? You’d do that for me?”

Tom straightened up a bit behind you, his brows furrowing. The thought of marrying you crossed his mind when he first met you, but after months of teasing and kisses and late nights, he never thought you were a woman he could tie down. He was trying to come up with a plan, something different, because you seemed so aloof and untamable.

Also because you care, you prick. You care about her.

“Anything for you, y/n,” your father said gently. “Love in this world is not common. When I found your mother and knew what I felt, I made sure I left with what I wanted. We don’t have many chances, and when we do have them, we must take them as they come.”

You didn’t love mom. You didn’t love her at all.

“When will you come?” You asked, putting your hair behind your ear. Tom watched you carefully, watching your profile. How you had a smile on your face, a blush on your cheeks. You looked hopeful almost.  

Sweet.

“Soon, sweetheart,” your father chuckled. “You realize that I’ll be negotiating with him…even if you’re to be married. If he loves you, he’ll give me something to have your hand.”

You laughed, but there was venom in your eyes, “yes, daddy. I promise not to get offended.”

You said your goodbyes, hanging up the phone, and you jumped in feigned surprise as you felt two arms come around your waist, pulling you close. Tom’s warmth was all around you again, and you could feel his heavy breaths as he pressed you into his chest.  

“y/n,” he murmured, and you put your hands over his.

“T-Tommy, I…How…How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he chuckled a bit, kissing your bare shoulder. “Enough to know that you want your father to come to New York and negotiate the terms of our marriage.”

His voice didn’t sound angry, but he wasn’t pleased.  

“Y-You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you whispered, and he turned you around to face him. Your eyes met, and his were so dark, so suspicious.  

“You come to New York, get cozy with an Englishman, and now you think you’re ready to marry me?” Tom raised a brow, and you looked away. You wanted him to think he was embarrassing you, that he held something over you.

“Before my father does it for me…yeah,” you swallowed. Part of it was the truth. Even if you never came to New York, you knew you were going to have to do this eventually. You had to find someone before your father did. You weren’t afraid of many things, but at home, you were always on edge. If you weren’t prepared to take things into your own hands, you were always afraid your father would do it for you. The only thing you could truly be afraid of was someone else deciding on you for you.

I can never escape this world, but I still want to live in it, not die in it.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know how it works for people like us, Tom, don’t…don’t pretend,” you pushed away from him a bit. “Daughters are pawns, not gifts. If I didn’t choose, he’d choose for me.”

“It’s not the bloody eighteenth century, darling, your father wouldn’t arrange your marriage.”

“You say that, but if I don’t let him do this, if I don’t convince him, then…then I’m going to wake up one day, he’s going to put a gun to my head, and he’s going to walk me into a room with a man I don’t know, and he’s going to marry me off like a goddamn animal. So yeah. Maybe it’s not the eighteenth century, Tom, but my daddy’s a little old-fashioned. And he does business that way,” you snapped. “I’ve got cousins forced halfway across the world to marry men they don’t know to mend bridges my father burned himself.”

You came close to him, putting a hand on his chest. Tom felt a prideful swell in his heart as you touched him. He could see it in your eyes. You needed something from him, and you could only get it from him. He thought about a day like this many times before, but he didn’t realize how much his heart ache when you were finally asking him for something, anything.

“Tom,” you looked up at him. “I know we’ve only known each other for…six months. And I know…things haven’t been…”

Tom put his hand to the back of your neck, holding you to his chest. There was still guilt inside of him, still images in his head of you covered in blood, images that Harrison and Mariposa had helped create. They did it purposefully. They wanted Tom to know, they wanted Tom to remember, and it worked because there was regret inside of him, and it was drilling into him like a slow-moving bullet that he couldn’t stop.

“I know, y/n. I know.”

“I really need you to do this for me, Tommy,” you said softly, your voice breaking a bit. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I know…I know maybe you pictured someone different, but I really need you.”

I really need you.

“You realize what you’re asking of me, don’t you?” He ran his fingers through your hair. Despite his words, his touch was soothing, and you craved more. “Marriage?” Tom scoffed a bit. “I am not a man that gets married, darling. I’m all the way at the top. If I’m married, it’s for life.”

Tom wanted it to seem like he didn’t need you like you needed him, but as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back.  

I am yours, and you are mine.

You let go of him, pacing in the bedroom slowly. Tom sat down on the bed, lighting himself a cigarette to pass the time. You hated it when he smoked. You hated smoking. You had picked it up because of him, and now you wished all you had done was leave them out for the rats.  

“What do you think I am, Tom? When my father’s gone? Who do you think he’s going to give everything to?” You shook your head. “He’s going to give it to me.”

Tom let out a breath through his nose. He raised a brow. “You’re sure of that?”

You played with your fingers, brushing your hair back. “My father’s too proud to give it to anyone else. He doesn’t have any other children. It’s just…it’s just me. I’m all he’s got.”

“Yes, but we don’t give our businesses to women who don’t know how to run it,” Tom informed you. You turned around quickly, narrowing your eyes at him. “y/n, don’t look at me like that. You’re a bloody good woman, and you know how to get the job done. But you don’t command men, you don’t…you don’t organize meetings, you don’t…you don’t deal with suppliers and distributors and the accounts. You don’t know. It isn’t a question of your ability or your character, it’s just a statement about your experience.”

Tom did mean that. He had reservations about marriage from the beginning. He was so set on it at first, so convinced that he could snatch it right up when he first met you. Then, he learned better. Rumors had it that your father and you weren’t on the best of terms, and that was enough to keep Tom at bay. He had yet to see you do much more than provide intel and break a few bones. He was worried that perhaps you were not the heiress the world thought you to be, and for that, he had to be cautious. Harrison was adamant about such things.

All the more reason to put a bullet in your head. What’s new? Men that know nothing about what you can do? Nothing’s new. Nothing’s changed. You went from one man who underestimated you to another. They will never learn. They will never respect you for what you are.

You came over to the bed and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, stubbing it out. You brushed out your hair a bit before going for the door.

You have to take it, from both of them. You have to take it, and you can’t say sorry when you have to step on both of them like the bugs that they are. They are shit under your shoes. You are better than them.

“The smoke is getting to your head, Tom,” you said finally. “You’re talking out of your ass now.”

“Where are you going?” He demanded as you opened the door.

“Away from you.”

You shut the bedroom door behind you and padded down the hall towards the staircase. You put your hand on the railing and made your way downstairs to the kitchen. Two boys sat there at the counter, cups of hot coffee between their hands and their suit jackets thrown over the back of the living room couch. They had pretty dark curls just like Tom. You had seen them at your initiation and occasionally around Tom’s office, but you had never said a word to them.

“Good morning, lovey,” one of them said to you. You grabbed a mug and started to fill it with some of the coffee they brewed. It smelled strong, but you needed it, desperately.

“Late night? Or early morning?” You asked, turning to face them. They both smiled at you a bit, one cockier than the other, and you smiled a bit right back. Tom’s family seemed the same, more or less. Cocky, egocentric, arrogant boys that loved to get in trouble.  

“Late night,” he replied. He held out his hand for you to shake. “Allow me. Harry.”

The other outstretched his hand, “Sam.”

You came forward and shook both of their hands, “y/n.”

At the sound of your name, they both smiled wider, sinister smiles, almost catlike. They knew you, and they knew you well.  

“Oh, we know who you are,” Harry snickered a bit. “Tom doesn’t shut up about ya.”

Your smile faded a bit, and you rolled your eyes, “I’m sure,” you muttered. “Your prick of a brother needs me, but he doesn’t act like it.”

“Needs you?”

“All the intel you’ve gotten on the Russians still running around Hell’s Kitchen? All from me,” you shrugged. “The only reason your brother doesn’t have Manhattan up in flames is because of me.”

“We just heard Viktor’s dead,” Sam frowned a bit. “I could only assume—”

“That was me, too,” you took a sip of coffee, staring out a bit distantly. “I…last night, I…”

It struck the twins at that moment that you were Tom’s little weapon. They knew Tom was doing something, but the news was always discreet, quiet, and never in the papers. Of course it had to be a woman doing things for him.

They’re the only ones smart enough to keep their mouths shut and their guns down.

“Jesus,” Harry shook his head. “All that blood. That was Viktor?”

Your gaze fell to the floor, and you swallowed. Thinking about how not even twelve hours before, you were sitting in a luxury bathroom surrounded by broken glass, flashing lights, and a dead man.

“Yeah,” is all you could say. Sam and Harry glanced at each other before looking back at you. Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head again. Tom had a good woman doing the dirty work, and he knew that Tom refused to give anyone but himself any credit. Tom was selfish like that, thinking he was the only person that deserved respect. It was evident to Harry that you had yet to get any from him, at least not willingly.

Harry pulled out a notebook from his pocket and a sleek Montblanc pen, scribbling on a page before ripping it out. He slid it across the counter to you, where his name and a few scrambled numbers were written across it. Sam snatched the pen and leaned over, scribbling his own digits onto it.

“You ever need somethin’, love,” Harry said lowly, “and our prick of a brother doesn’t answer, you call these numbers.”

You smiled just a little bit, staring down at the crumpled paper in your hands. The writing was messy, but the numbers meant something. They respected you enough to give you a direct line to them if you needed help, if you needed family. They had seen you draw blood, and somehow they were the only Hollands in the household to remember that fact.

You folded up the paper, putting it in your pocket. “Thanks.”

“Harry’s got balls,” Sam shrugged, leaning back, and Harry nudged his brother.

“Sam does the numbers,” he informed you. You looked between the both of them.

“You work for Tom?”

“Work with Tom, don’t insult us like that,” Harry snickered, and you laughed a bit. They were charming, you had to give them that, and their banter was distracting you from the boiling hatred for Tom sitting in your chest.

“Although lately it seems as if we don’t,” Sam shrugged. “It sounds like all of our business is somehow yours now.”

There was something bitter in his voice. Like he was searching for answers and couldn’t find them, and now that he had, he was disappointed with the result.  

You tilted your head to the side, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Tom takes the Russian business delicately,” Harry chimed in. “He doesn’t trust anyone but us to take care of it. Because if he can’t control them, we’re vulnerable to the groups the city still has.”

“But it sounds like Tom’s been giving you those orders,” Sam looked down at his coffee. “We’ve been a bit…bored lately.”

Bored. You mean your killing count hasn’t gone up. Lovely.

You put the coffee down, biting your lip. “Has he been…asking you to look into things in Brooklyn?”

“Aye,” Harry nodded his head. “Brooklyn, Queens, the likes. Been around those parts often lately. Been chasing some fuckin’ ghost, and we come up empty-handed every bloody time.”

You frowned, looking away for a moment. Tom was redirecting his own people to figure out things in Brooklyn. It meant he was scrabbling, surely. Tom had no idea what was going on, that much was clear. He kept his face calm, but you wondered how anxious he was underneath thick skin.

Something isn’t right. It wasn’t Tom. He has his brothers playing detective while you hold up Manhattan, and he’s spreading his men out because he doesn’t know what’s going on, does he?

You let out a breath, picking up the coffee mug. You wondered how such a small conversation with his brothers could reveal so much vulnerability underneath Tom’s kingdom.  

“It was nice to meet you both,” you said softly, going back upstairs.

If Tom didn’t take the money, who did?

Who’s hiding from me?

You held your drink up in hand, scrunching your nose as you watched Mariposa flick the quarter in her hand. Everyone at the table sat up a bit, anxious, and you cheered as the quarter fell right into shot glass, a huge smile coming over her face as she brushed her curls out of the way.

“Salud, cabrones,” Mariposa giggled, and all the boys at the table grumbled as they tipped their heads back, downing their shots. You nudged each other as the sounds of glasses slamming onto the table sounded, and Harrison threw an arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple, a drunk smile on his face.

“How are you two so bloody good at this?” Sam coughed, punching his chest a bit. The alcohol burned going down his throat, but it felt good. You were a bit drunk, the twins were a bit drunk, and Mariposa and Harrison were looking at each other like nothing else existed. You swallowed as you watched them smile at one another. Your hand was empty now, and you wondered why Tom wasn’t there to fill it.

It was hard now, to draw the line between playing an act and really feeling something. Moments like these, spending time with people you genuinely cared about, you wished he was here. You had grown used to it. Surrounding yourself with people that had your back, and after the other night, you were certain Harrison had yours.  

You’ve earned their respect, but when it all comes crashing down, who will be beside you?

“What do you think we did when we were eighteen in New York City?” Mariposa laughed. “All we did was go to parties and polish up our skills.”

Everyone laughed, and you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You looked around a bit for Tom. He was stuck in the back, in a meeting, but he assured you all he was alright and ushered you all to stay in the back and relax. You all had, playing drinking games and telling stories, and the boys were relieved to finally have women to impress, even though Harrison would glare if the twins stared too long at Mariposa.  

The twins had laughed about Tom’s first days in the business, even shown you a few pictures of Tom’s cheeky smile and array of flashy jewelry. Harrison was no better. They had no idea what to spend their newfound riches on, and it was nice to smile at what they used to be. Tom didn’t have those eyes anymore, or that smile. You knew what had done that to him. Blood, death, and sleepless nights had turned those eyes into nothing but dark coal, and there was nothing that could bring them back to their sweet colors. Tom had notches on his belt, death on his hands, and he never knew whether the blood on his clothes was that of others or his own.  

Tom was beaten and molded into what he was now. A man, yes, not a boy anymore, but he was a man molded out of experience, secrets, and lawlessness. Maybe that was why you loved him so much, as much as you tried to tell yourself otherwise.

Two sides of the same coin. One and the same. We are nothing but reflections of each other.

“Oi, y/n, you got all doe-eyed looking for my shithead brother,” Harry pointed out, and you looked back at all of them. You shook your head, coming out of your daze.  

“No, I’m just…”

Everyone laughed and made a few whooping noises, and Mariposa hit Harrison in the chest for whistling. You slid out of the booth, nodding at them. Maybe you were doe-eyed looking for Tom. But ever since you killed someone for him, you couldn’t stop trying to find him in places where he wasn’t. New York had changed you in the last six months, so much so that you were looking for comfort because you had touched it, felt it, tasted it, and you ached for it. Your father had never lent you a shoulder or kissed your tears away, but Tom had.

And I’m a mess for it.

“I’ll go get another round.”

“And take a lap looking for my mate?” Harrison raised a brow. Harrison could see the longing in your eyes, in your posture. You were fiddling with your fingers and shifting on your feet. “y/n, if he was worried, he would’ve said to look out for him, or even asked us to be in that room.”  

“I know,” you smiled a bit. “I just…”

Mariposa shushed them all, slamming her hand on the table. “y/n, go get your man. We’re bonding here, shouldn’t he be here?”

You pushed the curtain aside as you came out of the back room, and you looked around the club, squinting your eyes to see through the changing lights. You made your way to the bar, tapping on it as you ordered more drinks for the table.  

“…yeah, Tom’s girl is here,” you heard a voice say. Your head turned a bit as you craned your neck to listen. You recognized the voice.

“We don’t know what the boss is up to, we have no idea what she is.”

“Are you kidding me? She does so much shit for Tom, she might as well be.”

“She’s an asset, that’s all. He saw someone who could get shit done. Doesn’t mean they’re together.”

“Are you serious? A woman like that? No way Mr. Holland isn’t fucking her. Jesus, she walks into the office, and I’m fucking floored every time.”

You rolled your eyes a bit, laughing to yourself. Tom’s lackeys were always nice to you, always good to you, but they were such predictable men. You asked for a scotch, taking the single glass and going towards the back again. You kept walking though, to the door with two lackeys on either side. You moved to go in, but one of them stopped you.

“Mr. Holland asked not to be disturbed,” he said to you, and you tilted your head to the side.

“Michael, I think we’ve been over this. Have some respect or I’ll have you on your ass if you speak to me like that again,” you snapped, and he closed his mouth as you put your hand on the door and opened it. Tom was sitting with a few men, all around a makeshift poker table. The room was filled with smoke leaking from the cigars and cigarettes on the table, and it stunk like ash and old cardboard and dry liquor. There were five men besides Tom sitting around the table, all glittering with blood money and grinning with sinister smiles. Tom was the only one with a straight face, and he was the only one sitting at the table under 30 years old.

“Ahhhh, Mr. Holland, is this the wonder woman we’ve all been hearing about?”

Tom turned his head to look towards the door where you stood, holding his drink in one hand. Your eyes darkened a bit, and you came towards him, your heels the only sound echoing through.

“Wonder woman?” You questioned, laughing a bit. “Hardly.”

“My sources tell me a Russian man is dead by your hands.”

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t have put his where they didn’t belong,” you said firmly, setting down Tom’s drink in front of him. He took it from you, taking a sip of it, his nose twitching a bit. You could tell he wasn’t happy in the slightest for interrupting his big bad meeting.

“My, my,” some of the men around the table chuckled. “I’m going to need to get me one of those, gentlemen.”

There was laughter around the room, and you rolled your eyes. Tom made eye contact with you, and he shook his head just enough, his eyes begging you to leave. You wouldn’t leave. There was something you wanted from Tom, and you were going to get it. Tom could lie to you all he wanted, he could paint a story and show it to you all day every day, but he was just like your father. You had to choose before he chose for you.

Shit under your shoes, that’s all they are. Use them, abuse them, lose them.

“You need to get yourself a fiancé?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “I thought you already had a wife, Mr. Cunningham.”

The room quieted a bit, and Tom tilted his head to the side a bit, his nostrils flaring just a bit. You could see his knuckles whitening as he tightened the grip on his glass of liquor.

I am yours, and you are mine.

“Pardon me? Fiancé?”

You smiled, coming towards the table, kicking Tom’s chair out a bit before taking a seat in his lap. You brought his hand to your mouth and kissed it, taking one of his diamond bands off his fingers and slipping it onto your own. You held your hand out as the diamonds glittered in the low light.

Suits me.

“Yes, we haven’t really…told anyone yet,” you said with a laugh, looking back at Tom. “But there’s long been tensions between my father and Tom’s own family…” You reached over and touched a few of his curls, “I guess we’re just so lucky that we fell for each other.”

Tom gripped your wrist tightly, squeezing it so hard you thought he might break something. You yanked your hand out of his grip, turning back to the crowd.  

“Tom…you choose well, don’t you? A princess that’s to become a queen? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Tom let out a hard breath through his nose, “aye,” he licked his lips a bit. “I only get the best, gentlemen, wouldn’t you say so?”

You leaned back a bit, whispering into his ear angrily. You hated when he spoke like you weren’t in the room.

“Really? You’re going to pull that shit right here, Tom?”

He chuckled, kissing under your ear. “That’s right, love. You want to be mine, eh? You want to play the part? Then you’re going to have to get used to things around here, and how I run them. And you’re not in charge.”

Bite me.

“I should shoot you right here,” you snapped, and he put a hand on your thigh, squeezing hard. His fingers stroked delicately, rubbing in slow circles. You leaned your head back against his shoulder a bit, sighing hard. It felt good, and you adored how he touched you, but now was not the time, and definitely not when his intentions were to shut you up.

“Say that again, darling…”

“Are you seriously getting off on this?”

He grinned wickedly, his eyes alight, and you dug your stiletto heel into his foot, making him jump a bit. He hid his face in your hair, letting out a quiet, “God, fuck!”

You hummed a bit, stroking the back of his neck, tugging at the hairs there to pull him close to you.

“I’m getting really sick and tired of you, Tom, reeling me in just to throw me back out,” you hissed in his ear. He grunted a bit, his breath heavy, and you nibbled along his earlobe. “I don’t how much longer I have to prove myself to you. I shouldn’t have to. If there’s anyone on this Godforsaken planet worthy of being your wife, it’s me, Tom, and you damn well know it.”

“y/n—”

You turned back to the men at the table, picking up Tom’s cards, face down in front of you two. You took a peek at them, a small smile growing on your face.  

“What are we playing then, boys?” You asked in a soft, sultry tone. Tom gritted his teeth a bit, but he put an arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he looked over your shoulder. “What are we betting on?”

“Poker, with just the money, sweetheart,” and you smiled wider when you felt Tom’s grip tighten on you, the hard breath he let out. There were eyes on you, hungry, beady, grown eyes that Tom suddenly hated more than anything else in this world. It was even more insulting that they thought you were his fiancé, and they had the nerve to stare at you like so.

“How about we make it…a bit better?” You asked, looking around at them. You put the cards down, taking your leather jacket off tossing it, leaning over on the table, letting the low neckline of your dress do most of the talking. Tom lowered his hand on your waist, to the curve of your back, and you let him, because you loved the way he was touching you. “Make it more…exciting?”

They chuckled, staring at you, drooling, like dogs seeing a treat.

All the same, all of them. Shit under your shoes.

“What did you have in mind, doll?”

You shrugged, “My distributors in Brooklyn on the table, and a fourth of the dock on the Hudson from my future husband.”

You bit back the gasp as Tom suddenly had a death grip on you, so hard you knew his fingertips might leave you with bruises. You pursed your lips tight, trying to keep the smile on your face.

Trust me, Tommy.

“y/n—”

“What do you say, boys? Last betting round? Show me what you got,” you smiled at them.  

“20% of my next shipment.”

“Fuck it, how about just cash, eh?”

“Five months of no interest.”

You giggled, winking, “Oh, you boys like your odds, don’t you?”

The cards went down, and the room went up in cackles and sharp laughter. You spread Tom’s hand out, a beautiful, perfect royal flush.

“Jesus, fuck, Holland!”

“God, your woman is mad.”

“Fuck, I’m out 30,000, I suppose.”

You sat back in Tom’s lap, crossing one leg over the other. “You guys are terrible at reading my poker face,” you teased, and Tom leaned forward, letting out a breath against your ear. You closed your eyes for a moment as he pulled your back tight up against his chest, holding you deathly close to him.

“Is this how you want to do things now? Go over my bloody head?” He growled, and you turned your head, giving his jaw a kiss.

“No, baby,” you whispered. “But when you treat me like just another one of your men, you shouldn’t be surprised when I exceed your expectations. And win things for you. And make your business a whole lot more lucrative. All I did was flash my lingerie, Tommy, and they gave me millions for nothing. You not wanting to negotiate a marriage with me is just plain stupid. So you either do business with me, or I’ll take it elsewhere. And I don’t care if Brooklyn falls.”

He clenched his jaw, kissing between your shoulder blades gently as he looked away from you. The thought of you leaving irked him to no end. The thought of someone else getting to have your special skills, even someone like your father, bothered him. Tom didn’t want you working for anyone else, beside anyone else, for anyone else. You never were able to do things like things before, and Tom had given you a chance, and he felt like he was entitled to everything you were and more.  

She’s mine.

You both stood up to bid Tom’s partners farewell, and they thanked you with kisses to your knuckles. You could tell some of them were dying to touch you, but Tom was quick wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you to him. You looked up at him when the door shut behind them.

“Was that to show chivalry isn’t dead or because you actually care about me?”

He pulled away from you, kicking the poker table to the side. Some of the chips clattered onto the floor, and you sighed, already feeling what was coming. Tom had yet to realize who he was talking to.

“You know, y/n, I didn’t think you had the goddamn balls to undermine me like that,” Tom snapped, grabbing the glass and throwing it at the wall. You didn’t even flinch as it shattered. You crossed your arms over your chest. “You do a lot of things that fucking piss me off, but business?! Are you fucking serious?!”

“What did I say about the anger, Tom? What have we talked about?!”

“Goddammit, y/n, you listen to me before I—!”

“Before you what?! Hit me? Put your hands on me? Toss me out of here like one of your men?” You interrupted him. He came towards you, backing you up until you hit the wall, and you glared up at him. “Tom, you don’t want to do this. I don’t care what I feel for you, you put your fucking hands on me, and you’ll regret it.”

“I’ll put whatever I want on you,” Tom growled, and you gripped his chin, holding it tight between your fingers.  

“Shut your mouth and listen to me, Tom, have some fucking respect,” you spat. “You touch me because I allow you to, not the other way around. I don’t care if you’re my boyfriend, my lover, my husband, my anything. You touch me, and I swear to God, I’ll put your ass on this floor and let your men watch me beat you to shit—”

You gasped as he wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing as he shoved you against the wall. You reached over and used your nails to scratch his face, and when he loosened his grip, you brought your knee up and hit him right in the stomach. You both released each other, you panting against the wall and him leaning over in pain, groaning, and just as you were about to hit him again, he pushed you up against the wall again, pinning your arms on either side of your head.

“Tom! Jesus, fuck, listen to me for one second!” You breathed, trying to break out of his grip. Neither of you were using your full strength. Neither of you really wanted to hurt the other. “Yeah. I did something in front of your partners, I teased, but you just won’t listen to me!”

“What the fuck do you have to say that makes this any better?!”

You leaned forward and caught him in a hot kiss. He dropped your arms from beside your head, circling his around your waist, and you slid your arms up and around his neck, letting out soft, breathy moans as you kissed against the wall.

Your head hit the wall hard as he pressed you up against it, and the kisses grew warmer, hotter, deeper by the second. Tom had had his hands on you for so long now, and you didn’t shy away from it any longer. You couldn’t.  

He’s touching me, and I like it, and I’m selfish. I don’t want to let go.

“I wanna,” you panted, your lips still pressed to his, “I wanna build something with you, Tommy.”

“Yeah? Build what?”

Tom’s voice was breathy, and his eyes were closed, and you could tell all he wanted to do was keep kissing, keep breathing each other in. The constant teasing, the way you had stood up to him all night, it was getting to him, and although he pretended he despised it, all he could do was admire the hell out of you.

The only woman worthy of being a Holland.

“I want it all,” you moaned between kisses. “I want power…and money…and I want people under me, doing the things I tell them to do,” you gasped as Tom picked you up off your feet, pressing you against the wall as your legs went around his middle, “a-and I want you.”

He breathed hard as he pulled away a bit, his forehead against yours. You brushed your knuckles along his cheek, licking your lips. His skin felt warm and soft under your touch, and you adored the heaving breaths he was taking. He felt so alive under your palms, he felt so full of fire, and although you were supposed to be lighting that fire yourself, you couldn’t help but drink it in, too.  

“I want all of it,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to climb and climb and climb, and I don’t want to stop climbing until I’m dead, Tommy.”

I never want to stop.

You pulled back enough, and Tom could see your glistening eyes, so big and wide, looking down at him. Your eyes were watering a bit, and you sniffled. You were so hungry with the feeling, and you knew Tom was the only man that could ever understand what was building inside of you.  

More, more, more.

“I don’t want to do it with anyone else, Tom,” you shook your head. “B-Because the truth is…I-I’m scared to do it with anyone else. And despite how much we fight and bicker and argue, there hasn’t been one moment with you that I haven’t felt…safe o-or unloved. I’m scared that if I don’t snatch you up, Tommy, that I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, and I’m…I’m so afraid of being alone.”

Tom swallowed hard, and you leaned your forehead against his again. You couldn’t tell what part of your words were a lie or the truth. You couldn’t decipher what was between the lines, but you didn’t care. It was spilling from you, and you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.  

There’s love in your voice.

“You’d never hurt me,” you whispered, brushing through his curls. “You’d never push me aside. If that was how you felt, you would’ve done it tonight, and you didn’t.”

He set you down gently onto your feet, but he kept you pressed to the wall as he kissed you again. Head tipped back, fingers in your hair, and a heat between your mouths that neither of you could bear to break. Tom Holland was reeling you in all over again, and you were letting him.

God, what have I done?

“Tell me you want it,” you groaned between kisses, holding onto him. Your touch was warm, and you couldn’t bear to let go of him.

“I want it,” Tom said lowly. You smiled, his kisses getting softer.

“Tell me you want money, Tommy,” you breathed, and he slid his hand down your side, gripping your ass tightly. It felt possessive, the way he touched you, but you held onto him tighter, gritting your teeth.

“I want money,” he repeated, and you moaned as he squeezed your backside soothingly.

“Tell me you want power,” you cooed, and he tilted his head to the side, licking over your bottom lip. You leaned forward just a bit, stealing a kiss, and he chuckled darkly, adoring the sounds you made as he touched you.  

More, more, more, all I want is more.

“I want power,” he grunted, hiking up your dress to touch. You stopped him, taking that hand and dragging it up your side and between your breasts, letting his fingers wrap around your throat as you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking and licking it gently.

Such a fucking tease.

“Tell me you want the world,” you purred, and he nodded, letting his thumb slip back into your mouth as you sucked on it, your eyes lidded as you looked up at him. All you could think about was him holding you like this over his desk, making you feel more alive than ever.  

Making me feel something rather than the nothingness I always feel. Making me feel anything but completely, utterly empty.

“I want the world, darling,” Tom said darkly, and you let his finger go, standing up on your toes to reach his ear. You curled your fingers around the nape of his neck, kissing the skin, licking the shell of his ear. He grunted a bit at that, closing his eyes.

“I can give the world to you, Tommy,” you whispered, leaving soft, sweet butterfly kisses from the underside of his ear down to his jaw, then back up again to kiss his lips chastely. “I can take it, wrap it up in a bow, and give it to you. All you have to do is let me in. Give me the most precious gifts you could ever give. A pretty ring, because I do have tastes, Tommy—”

“Of course,” he snickered, and he opened his eyes to look at you.  

Two sides of the same coin, one and the same, reflections of each other.

“Maybe an island or two, to keep me occupied,” you added, and he laughed a bit. “And…”

“And?”

Your eyes met, and you touched his chin.

“And your name,” you said softly. His lips twitched for a moment, and you leaned forward, kissing them so softly, so tenderly. “I want your name.”

“I want the world, and you want my name?” Tom asked, raising a brow. You gripped the lapels of his suit jacket in both hands, bringing him even closer, as close as you could.

“I want your name,” you said, leaning in close. “And everything that comes with it.”

He kissed your lips gently, smirking a bit. You put your hands on both of his cheeks, letting it deepen. Moments like this made you forget why you ever came to New York in the first place. It made you forget that you came here with a proposition, targeting Tom and all he was worth, to take everything from him. Kissing him, touching him, letting his scent intoxicate you, it was consuming you like fire, and you just wanted to hold onto him forever.  

I want your name, and I want it forever.

You pulled back for a moment and looked into his dark, beautiful eyes, and you were stricken when something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Guilt.  

Tom was lying, you were lying, but in this moment, here, you knew whatever was silent between you was the truth. You needed Tom, and Tom needed you, and when everything would come crashing down and burning, there was something inside of you that didn’t care about what came after. You didn’t care about anything except the hope that maybe, just maybe, Tom would forgive you.

Before Tom could answer, the door opened slightly, and Harrison poked his head through. Tom didn’t move away from you, still holding onto you, and Harrison let out a breath.

“Ah…sorry to interrupt, but…the phone, it’s for you, mate,” Harrison held out his hand, Tom’s cell phone in it. Tom took it from him, frowning a bit. You looked at the number displayed, and you frowned.

“That’s my dad,” you said softly. You scoffed a bit, and before Tom could put the phone to his ear, you grabbed it, putting it on speaker, gesturing to Tom for him to say something.

“Aye, this is Tom,” he said finally, and Harrison shut the door again.  

“Thomas…what a pleasure to finally be speaking to you.”

Your father’s voice was dark, more sinister than you’ve ever heard it sound before. Tom slid his hand up to your waist, squeezing a bit absentmindedly.  

“Hello, Mr. y/l/n. What can I do for you?” Tom asked blankly, keeping his voice level. You put your head on Tom’s chest, not knowing how to feel. Your father didn’t say anything to you about speaking to Tom, he never warned you about any of this.

“Thomas, in a few hours, I’ll be landing at JFK,” your father explained, and you and Tom met eyes. “I have business in New York, and you have business in New York. There’s matters that we need to discuss.”

“Mmm…you know, I’m not certain how things are done in California, Mr. y/l/n, but here in the city, we aren’t particularly friendly with those in other territories,” Tom informed him, his voice lowering in tone. “And I’m a busy man. What makes you think I have time for you, eh?”

You raised a brow, looking at Tom, confused, but he just winked down at you.

“Because of my daughter,” your father said finally. “My daughter, who works for you, Mr. Holland. Word gets around. You weren’t thinking of proposing without asking for my permission, were you?”

“Mmm��is that how we’re doing this?” Tom asked. “I need your permission to do things, do I?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Tom put a finger to your lips.

“When it comes to what’s mine? Yeah, you do,” your father said simply. “You want my daughter, Mr. Holland? Despite whatever you think, despite whatever she may have done for you, she’s still mine. And she answers to me. So don’t get fucking smart with me, Thomas. I don’t care how many times she’s sucked your cock.”

You pulled off of Tom quickly, blinking.  

“That deal she made with you, Thomas? We both know it wasn’t hers to make, so you can stop throwing her a bone. There are things that I want, and there are things that you want, and I’m sure we can come up with something agreeable, can’t we? If it is that you truly want her hand and not that you’ve been degrading her the entire time she’s been there.”

You couldn’t even speak. You were so disgusted by everything coming from your father’s mouth, and you put a hand over your face, feeling sick to your stomach.  

“When is it that you want to meet, then?” Tom asked.

“Saturday evening. Send a car, will you?”

“Mmm. Of course,” Tom’s voice was bitter. “Have a goodnight.”

He hung up, and Tom immediately looked away from you when he noticed the tears in your eyes.

“Why didn’t you…why didn’t you say something?” You asked weakly, shaking your head. “Did you not…hear a single fucking word that came out of his mouth? Why didn’t you say something?”

“y/n, I’m not going to argue with your father over the phone about—”

“Oh, my God,” you burst out laughing, coming out sharp and pained, stepping back from him. “What is wrong with you? You think that’s true? Is that what you want people to believe? That I’m just some complacent piece of ass for you to have on your arm?”

“y/n, that’s not it,” Tom shook his head, coming close, and you pushed his hands off of you.

“No, Tom, I’ve…is that what you really think about me? Is that what you want people to think when they think of me?” You asked painfully. “That I…that I do jobs for you that involve me on my knees for you? That I’m some kind of whore that you tend to keep around?”

“No, y/n, and you know that,” Tom argued.

“Then why can’t you say it?” You breathed. “Why is it that when other people are in the room, it’s as if suddenly I don’t matter? I…I killed someone for you, Tommy. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

Your voice cracked at the end, and Tom reached forward, cupping your cheek, bringing you close.

“I can’t stand the things people say about you, love,” he murmured. “I wanted to murder every man that was in this room, because they couldn’t stop looking at you like a piece of bloody meat, and if they weren’t my partners, y/n, I would’ve bashed their fuckin’ heads in for looking at you like that. And your father? Saying that shit? It made me sick, y/n. But I had to know.”

“Know what?” You asked.

“I had to know what your father thought. Because clearly he’s been lying to you,” Tom scoffed. “You’ve been his liaison to me, but everything he’s said to you so far means nothing. Your father’s been lying to you, and honestly, darling, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that as soon as your father miraculously had faith in you, your first assignment was to come to New York and look for me.”

You chewed on your fingernail, pulling away from him as you paced slowly around the room.

“So what do we do?” You asked, coming back to him. Tom cupped your cheeks, bringing you close enough for your foreheads to touch.

“You wanna be my wife, yeah?” He muttered against your lips. “You wanna do business with me? You wanna take on the fucking world, is that it?”

“Yes, Tommy,” you breathed, and he moved one hand lower to grasp your chin tightly between his fingers.

“You’ve got to promise me something, y/n,” he whispered, and you nodded, your noses touching, your breath warm against one another’s. He tangled his other hand into your hair, gripping it tight. “You’re my ride or die, then, yeah? I don’t fucking care what it’s about. Your father, Mariposa, Harrison, your bloody dog, I don’t fucking care. It’s me and you, and me and you always, and nothing comes between that, you hear me, eh?”

There’s love in there. Why can’t you hear it?

You opened your eyes, looking up into his.

“I hear you,” you said breathlessly, and you adored how he grabbed your face and kissed you. “Loyalty. That’s what…that’s what you want.”

Mine, mine, mine.

“Aye,” Tom nodded. “Your father doesn’t give two shits about you, y/n. We’ve got to bleed him dry—”

“Tom—” You let out a sob, shaking your head, and he held your face to his tighter, closer.

“We’ve got to bleed him dry,” Tom growled. “Because he will never understand what you are, y/n. And he will never believe in you. You think men like that change their minds suddenly, darling? Fuck, I could’ve killed you the day you got here, y/n, and he knew that. I let you do things on your own because I know you can take care of yourself, but your father doesn’t understand, and he still lets you, because to him, he doesn’t care whether you live or die in this business.”

“Tommy, that’s not true,” you whimpered, “h-he loves me, he—”

“He doesn’t!” Tom snapped. “Get that through your head, y/n! That man doesn’t love you, and he’s never going to give you what you want. It’s gotta be us, love. It’s gotta be you and I, and you and I only. For once in your life, y/n, choose yourself.”

You and Tom hugged tightly, holding onto each other, your cries muffled in his chest as he held you as close to him as he could.  

“I know, baby,” he whispered against your hair. “I’ve got you. I promise. I’ve got you now, yeah?”

What have I done?

It wasn’t long before you were sitting in his leather chair behind his desk, Tom’s suit jacket draped over you as he went to go get something stronger, something to calm your nerves. You had dried tears on your cheeks, and you looked a mess. Your phone buzzed in your jacket pocket, and you picked up your leather jacket off the floor, pulling it out. Your father’s name was lit on the screen.

We are two sides of the same coin.

Tom would never forgive you.

Did he buy it, baby?

One and the same.

yes, daddy. see you soon.

Not when you would stand over him, a gun to his head, taking everything from him and leaving him with nothing. Not even so much as his name, because you knew you’d take that, too.

Reflections of each other.

You would take his name, and you would run with it.

read chapter seven

[erisbaek]

Stucky Fic Rec [Part One]

So I decided to split the fic recs up into parts because they will be too long otherwise. In each part I will link the Google Doc that I am typing them up in, which is where I will constantly update as I read.  Within these fic recs, they’re mostly my preferences, so very few (if any) Shrinkyclinks, and ABO fics will be within them, as well as shorter fics, since I actively seek fics out that are longer than 10k (and completed)!!

The Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit?usp=sharing

The first part is formatted under the cut, if you’d prefer to stay out of the doc!

Lightning in a Bottle 

    Word Count: 63k     Rating: Explicit     Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Road Trip!AU, Angst with Happy Ending     Warnings: Smut, Smoking     Synopsis: The problem, Steve thinks, isn’t so much his motorcycle giving up the ghost on a lonely stretch of highway through a lonely stretch of the country. He doesn’t mind stretching his legs or the prospect of hitchhiking. The problem is the roiling black blanket of storm clouds slowly spreading itself over the landscape headed his direction… Steve Rogers is looking to hitch on a highway abandoned by everyone smart enough to avoid a looming storm. Bucky Barnes is the professional storm chaser who offers him a ride.

It gets more complicated from there.

Perspective and Truth

        Word Count: 16.7k          Rating: Teen and Up         Notable Tags: Bodyswap!AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort        Warnings: None        Synopsis: Bucky and Steve end up swapping bodies and learning a lot more about each other in the process

Carbs and Conversations

         Word Count: 48k          Rating: Teen and Up          Notable Tags: Hockey!AU, No Powers          Warnings: None          Synopsis: Bucky was just looking for a chance. A chance to get on the ice and play. A chance to escape from Hydra. A chance to redeem himself. He didn't include 'A chance to be friends with Steve Rogers' on the list. That would be ridiculous. Lucky for him, Steve seemed determined to be ridiculous.

So Loud and So Clear

           Word Count: 26.6k            Rating: Mature            Notable Tags: Get Together, Slow Build            Warnings: None           Synopsis: Bucky had been careful, after all, leaving no trace of his comings and goings. It was horrendously disappointing to know that Rogers had found him. Bucky was a lot better than getting caught by a guy who wore the American flag as a onesie. He just really was. “Don’t you – Bucky – Bucky,” Rogers started, and to Bucky’s growing horror, it looked like Rogers was on the verge of some type of emotional eclipse. Anger, sadness, something, and Bucky wanted nothing to do with it. “Hate to break it to you, bud, but I don’t remember ever living here and I don’t remember you.”

A Loyal Viewer 

           Word Count: 36.1k            Rating: Explicit             Notable Tags: Camboy!Steve, Punk!Bucky, No Powers, Long Distance            Relationship            Warnings: Smut            Synopsis: At almost exactly eight thirty in the evening, Steve settles on the bed before his camera and the computer. He signs into his account on Chaturbate and clicks the button that starts his stream.

In My Conditions, Love’s the Best Physician

             Word Count: 9.1k              Rating: Not Rated              Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pharmacist!Bucky, Russian!Bucky              Warnings: None              Synopsis: ”This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts. The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him. Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?” - Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered) 

               Word Count: 66.7k                Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Slow Burn                Warnings: Smut, Canonical Character Death                Synopsis: It's 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

Looking For A Place To Hide

                Word Count: 33.3k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Endgame Fix-It, 2012!Steve                 Warnings: Smut                 Synopsis:  It's 2012 and all Steve knows is that another version of himself said Bucky is alive. Steve will do anything to get his friend back, even if it means time traveling to 2023. He expects Bucky to be happy to see him, but instead he's wary, hurt. Turns out his Steve had left him for Peggy. How? Why? Steve can't believe it. Now he'll have to find a way to make sense of it all, and convince Bucky that it's the two of them to the end of the line.

The Wolf and the Sheep

               Word Count: 50.5k                Rating: Teen and Up                Notable Tags: Shield Agent!Steve, Winter Soldier!Bucky                 Warnings: None                Synopsis: Steve Rogers is a SHIELD agent who is recruited for a secret project: Becoming a handler for the Asset. Steve’s world is thrown for a loop when he discovers the Asset is an actual person and he needs to figure out who he is and what he’s going to do.

All Those Little Pieces

                 Word Count: 40.5k                  Rating: Mature                  Notable Tags: Alternating POV, Post CATW                  Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks                  Synopsis: Steve has never forgotten Bucky Barnes. Not their childhood together, not the horror of the moment Bucky fell too far for him to reach, and not the way he's loved him all the while. Bucky has forgotten everything about Steve, at least at first. But there's still a feeling there, warm in his chest—and maybe now that he's found his way back to Steve Rogers and his sunny apartment, there's a chance it might turn into something more.

My Dear

                   Word Count: 29.9k                    Rating: Explicit                     Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery                    Warnings: Smut                    Synopsis: The Soldier stares down at the floor, breathing hard through his nose. “And you still wanna fix me,” he says. Steve shakes his head. “There’s nothing to fix, Buck. I just want to bring you home.”

Living On My Own

                    Word Count: 26.1k                     Rating: Mature                     Notable Tags: Vigilante!Bucky                      Warnings: Blood and Gore                     Synopsis: James Barnes is back in the world and finds that not only has there been 1) an alien invasion, but 2) Howard Stark had a kid. One that dispenses unsolicited life advice, no less. Oh, and 3) Captain America is alive again, after getting himself killed by his own recklessness in a move so stupid only Steve could have come up with it. In which James learns to do laundry, turns into an accidental neighborhood vigilante and makes Tony Stark a happy grease monkey, all while he figures out where to stake his claim.

Chase the Lighting From the Sky

                      Word Count: 39.4k                       Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: No Powers, Age Gap, Farm!AU                        Warnings: Smut, Past Character Death, Animal Death                       Synopsis: If Bucky has to be stuck doing this ridiculous summer work program before his senior year of college, on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, then at least he’s got a hot as hell cowboy for a boss and host. Steve Rogers, owner of the Truth & Justice Ranch, is what Bucky’s completely theoretical but very imaginative bisexual fantasies are made of. Steve’s a widower though, and a nice guy in need of help, and no doubt 100% straight… so Bucky’s gonna work his ass off and keep his head down. But neither Bucky nor Steve are prepared for the friendship that forms between them as they work side by side. And they certainly aren’t expecting the budding feelings, confessions, and passions that summer heat and the loneliness of the great open plains stirs in each of them. What rages to life between them will shake each man to his core and will linger long after the storms and the summer have passed.

Cinder and Smoke

                       Word Count: 51.7k                        Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Sheriff!Steve, Blacksmith!Bucky, Old Western                        Warnings: Smut, Period-Typical Homophobia, OC Death                        Synopsis: “They say there’s no law in Parasapa. Is that true?”

Art Thief, Heart Thief

                       Word Count: 58.8k                        Rating: Mature                        Notable Tags: FBI!Steve, Thief!Bucky Barnes                        Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case. Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier. So they strike a deal, mutually beneficial and entirely business. But a few days undercover, an undeniable growing chemistry, and some ill-timed Feelings entering the mix, and all bets are off.

Laws of Thermodynamics 

                       Word Count: 14.6k                        Rating: Explicit                         Notable Tags: Post CATWS, Recovery                         Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: He never had to relearn how to love Steve Rogers. It might be the one thing he never forgot.

Abstract Art

                       Word Count: 26.6k                        Rating: Teen and Up                        Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Artist!Steve, Ex Sniper!Bucky                        Warnings: None                        Synopsis: They survive almost a year of torture together, cells side by side, banter and teasing and stories. They keep each other alive. Then everything changes. They tell Bucky that Rogers's been killed. He tries to piece his life together, to move on. Steve owns an art store. He's given up looking. It's over. Except it's really not.

We Discovered Gold

                       Word Count: 18.7k                        Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Post CACW, Fix-It, Wakanda                         Warnings: Smut                        Synopsis: “So you got these safe houses scattered all over Russia?” Steve jokes into the soft hair over Bucky's temple, not pulling away, “Or did we just get lucky?” Bucky shakes his head and then replies, “Got myself a few. It’s been a long two years.” “Yeah pal,” Steve nods, burrowing further, “I hear that.”

Never Mind to Hold 

                      Word Count: 21.6k                       Rating: Mature                       Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Not CACW Compliant, Soulmarks                       Warnings: Brief Suicidal Ideation                       Synopsis: Steve didn't know the name of Bucky's soulmate. He wasn't even sure when it had appeared across Bucky's heart. But Steve knew it wasn't his name hidden under that patch.

Where There’s Smoke 

                      Word Count: 95.1k                       Rating: Explicit                        Notable Tags: Firefighter!AU                       Warnings: Smut                       Synopsis: Steve is a Brooklyn firefighter who is about to be saddled with a new, rookie crewmate. James Barnes is that rookie, just looking for a fresh start at a new station. Steve's friends think they know what's best for him...start dating his new crewmate. Steve thinks they're crazy...or possibly right. But events from James's recent past may pose a threat to any designs they have on each other.

Let Them Eat Cake

                    Word Count: 31k                     Rating: Explicit                      Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Pastry Chef!Steve, Sommelier!Bucky                     Warnings: Smut, Drug Use                     Synopsis: Steve picked up the piping bag and returned to the ramekins. Bucky left, though not without shooting one last look at Steve's wide back. Bucky could already tell Steve Rogers was trouble, not even counting the near-religious experiences he inspired among the staff. It wasn’t that Bucky didn’t appreciate him as well; he did. He just tended to appreciate people he found attractive from afar, because explaining the metal arm was hard, and because he didn’t really know how to handle letting someone in close. But that wasn’t why Steve was trouble, not really. Bucky wanted to know why their new pastry chef had gun calluses on his right hand.

Adrenalize Me 

                  Word Count: 58.5k                   Rating: Explicit                    Notable Tags: Vampire!Steve                   Warnings: Smut, Blood                   Synopsis: Leaning against the side of a wall, taking an indolent drag of a cigarette, there he stood. Watching Bucky with an inscrutable gaze. Staring at Bucky for long seconds, the blond seemed to consider him before breaking the silence. “You know, nice guy like you walking alone at this hour – people might think you were looking for trouble.” Trying not to shudder at the sound of that voice, which wrapped around him like smoke, Bucky managed a smirk, lifted a brow. “Well, if I was, it looks like I found it.” Two strangers meet in a dark club. One just happens to be a vampire.

The Change in Us 

                 Word Count: 23.4k                  Rating: Explicit                  Notable Tags: N/A                  Warnings: Smut                  Synopsis: “I’ve found your BFF,” Stark says without preamble. “My… what?” “James Barnes. Winter Soldier. Bucky. I don’t know, I don’t care, but right now he’s perched on the roof of the next building with a gun on me, and it’s not so much my idea of a relaxing afternoon, so could you get down here?” Steve hangs up and starts running.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

                  Word Count: 38.2k                   Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Ex Army!Bucky                   Warnings: Minor Smut                    Synopsis: Many an odd critter and item have ended up on the front porch of the property Bucky house-sits in the Middle Of Nowhere, but a bleeding blond man is a first. A short inspection reveals the man to be none other than Steve Rogers; ex-Captain America, vigilante, and a wanted fugitive. Steve’s stay of a few days of recovery is prolonged, under instructions for him to lie low until the Avengers can sort out the mess that has become the Sokovia Accords. Bucky is pretty sure that he’s committing an act of treason by providing Steve a place to stay. He is also pretty sure that lengthy interaction with Steve makes one prone to impending headaches and possibly ulcers. And he is certain that he is, very assuredly, in danger of falling in love with Steve.

The Soldier’s Revenge

                 Word Count: 76.4k                  Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Enemies To Lovers, Slow Burn                  Warnings: Smut                  Synopsis: Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

The Best Way to Wake

                  Word Count: 42.2k                   Rating: Explicit                   Notable Tags: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn                   Warnings: Smut                   Synopsis: James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!” In which Bucky Barnes lay frozen in the Alps for seventy years only to be woken up a year after Steve Rogers was uncovered from the Arctic.

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark

                    Word Count: 89.5k                     Rating: Explicit                      Notable Tags: Age Difference, CIA!Steve, Barista!Bucky, Sugar                            Daddy!Steve                     Warnings: Smut                     Synopsis: Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants? Bucky is going to have to figure out his shit and fast. That's what's up.

Laughter Lines

                   Word Count: 100.2k                    Rating: Mature                    Notable Tags: Bodyguard!AU, Slow Burn                    Warnings: None                    Synopsis: Bucky Barnes is a rising Hollywood star with a tragic past and a reputation for driving his bodyguards away. Steve Rogers is a veteran with the same tragic past and the need to get back out in the world. The two of them have been estranged since they were teenagers, so when Steve joins SHIELD as a bodyguard, he is less than thrilled when he finds out that Bucky is his first assignment. But how bad can it be? They're both professional adults, right?Wrong.

From Hydra with Love

                   Word Count: 21.2k                    Rating: Mature                    Notable Tags: Spies!Steve and Bucky                    Warnings: Smut                    Synopsis: Captain Steve Rogers is one of the best spies in the world - a marksman, a martial artist, an expert in strategy and tactics. There's not a lot he can't handle. Heck, he's even saved the world once or twice. So why does every run in with the mysterious Winter Soldier leave him feeling like the Bond Girl?

Goddamn Electric

                Word Count: 67.8k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Bodyguard!Steve, Musician!Bucky                 Warnings: Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Smut                 Synopsis: Steve Rogers works for a discreet private security company and gets assigned to James Barnes, a musician who takes the idea of 'sex, drugs & rock 'n roll' just a little too seriously.

There Was Something About Steve Rogers

                Word Count: 46.7k                 Rating: Explicit                 Notable Tags: Post CATWS                 Warnings: Smut, Panic Attacks                 Synopsis: The Winter Soldier knows Steve Rogers has deep feelings for Bucky Barnes, and decides that he can use that to his advantage to gain protection from the Hydra agents still trying to find him. What he didn't bargain for was actually starting to care about the man they call Captain America, or the strength of Bucky Barnes' memories as they begin to resurface.

Through the Mist

                Word Count: 14.5k                 Rating: Teen and Up                 Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Post CATWS                 Warnings: None                 Synopsis: He usually kept it covered. Whether it be with long sleeves, a cuff of some sort, or make up Natasha skillfully showed him how to apply. He didn’t cover it up because he was ashamed or because he was one of those people who didn’t like others knowing who his soulmate was- no. He covered it up out of respect. Respect for his fallen partner, and respect for himself because he knew looking at those swoopy lines of James B. Barnes on his wrist always made him crumble like his legs were kicked down. When he crashed into the ice all those years ago he thought he was going to see Bucky again- he thought he was finally going to be with Bucky without people giving them ugly looks and throwing slurs their way. He thought he was going to be happy again.

Take Me Home 

              Word Count: 78.1k               Rating: Mature               Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Veteran!Bucky               Warnings: Smut, Torture, Referenced Suicide               Synopsis: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

Where the Circle Ends

               Word Count: 29.8k                Rating: Mature                Notable Tags: Zombie Apocalypse!AU                 Warnings: Smut, Gore                Synopsis: In which the world has gone to hell in a zombie apocalypse handbasket and, in the middle of it all, Steve finds the one person he never thought he'd see again. Angst and feelings (amongst other things) ensue.

Our Souls (They Were Made to Last) 

               Word Count: 53.8k                Rating: Mature                Notable Tags: No Powers, Veteran!Steve, Doctor!Bucky, Ghost!Bucky                Warnings: None                Synopsis: Dr. James Barnes is too busy saving lives to actually have one of his own. When he finally agrees to go on a blind date, he gets into an accident that will change his life forever. Retired Army Captain Steve Rogers is depressed, and when he moves into his new apartment he finds it already occupied....with the ghost of its last tenant. To make matters worse, the ghost is adamant that he's not dead. As they navigate their way through their new living arrangements, can they save each other, before it’s too late? Or have they missed their one shot at a happy ending?

By Any Other Name

                 Word Count: 36.9k                  Rating: Explicit                  Notable Tags: Assassins and Hitmen!AU, Spies and Agents!AU                  Warning: Smut                 Synopsis: Steve was a good spy. It turned out one good spy didn't stand a chance against a rival security firm, a contract killer, and his own heart.

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 9

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

Author’s note: Real quick, I just wanna say thanks for all the kind messages/comments you guys have been sending me on tumblr and AO3. I really enjoy writing this fic, and it makes it all the better when I know you’re enjoying it too. So thanks again for the support. Means the world to me <3

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FORANGAL CASTLE

THE DINING HALL

“I’m afraid there’s no shortage of Danes in Wedenscire, Aegenwulf.” Raedan said as the two conversed across the table. “Over these past few weeks, I’ve been seeing more and more of them crawling all over the place. It’s almost as if they’re migrating like a bloody flock of birds. It makes you wonder whether these Danes are local, or if they come from somewhere else.”

Aegenwulf took a sip from his goblet. “No Dane is local to England, my friend. They are all invaders; all outsiders.”

Bishop Hundwerth raised his cup in agreement. “Very true, my lord.”

Raedan furrowed his brow. “Well, unfortunately, regardless of wherever they may hail from, it seems that the Northmen have planted their roots rather deeply in our lands. I doubt they’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

“Any ideas on how to get them out?”

The thegn shrugged. “You know the vikings as well as I do. Those bastards are as fierce in political dialogue as they are in war. It won’t be easy to drive them out of this kingdom. The only language they understand is battle.”

“Then we would do well to keep our tongues as sharp as our blades.”

Lady Moira joined in. “Please, Raedan. Save the discussions of politics for the war room, and let us enjoy this meal that Aegenwulf’s people have been kind enough to prepare for us. We’ve all had a long journey, and I think we’d like a moment to rest.”

Her husband stepped down from his conversation, letting out a sigh. “Ah... forgive me, my love. My head is filled to the brim with warfare nowadays. I fear I have forgotten how to engage in casual chatter. But you’re right. We’ll have plenty of time to worry about all that later. For now, let us feast on this fine food that they’ve lain out for us before I become some bare-chinned ponce.”

The ealdorman chuckled. “Still the same Raedan, even after all these years.” He raised his goblet. “To your health, old friend.”

Raedan smiled warmly at that. “Thank you.” 

Clinking their cups together, the two Saxons engaged in a friendly toast and downed the rest of their drinks, merrily enjoying each other’s company.

Meanwhile, Edric and the twins sat at the other end of the table and talked with Moira and her children, sticking to their own conversation as the food slowly vanished from their plates. 

The gathering wasn’t quite as riveting as Edric would’ve liked, and Algar’s presence at the table admittedly worried him somewhat, but it was still more enjoyable than being stuck in the war room all day. He had grown tired of the constant debates and discussions of death, so it was a pleasant change of pace to take a break from all that.

He only wondered if Sigurd would decide to join them.

“So tell me,” Moira said, delicately cutting into a piece of meat, “how have things been in Forangal? Everything is going well, I hope?”

“As well as they can be, I suppose.” Edric replied. “Our people are strained due to the war, but we’re doing our best to push through it.”

“That’s good. And how have you been faring, Edric? I’ve spoken to your siblings quite a bit already, but you and I haven’t had the chance to catch up. Are things well for you? I imagine you’ve acquired an abundance of new responsibilities now that you’re older.”

The young man chuckled. “An understatement. These days, I spend most of my time joining my father’s side at the war table. If things keep going on like this, I may even join him on the battlefield soon.”

Edlynne cocked her head at him. “I certainly hope not. I’d feel much better knowing you were safe within Forangal’s walls.”

Henry gave a timid nod of agreement. “As would I. You’re dear to us all, Edric. I’d hate to see you thrown into the midst of all the chaos out there.”

A sour look spread across Moira’s face. “Well, it definitely doesn’t help when you have a Norseman wandering around the castle. Are you certain it’s wise to keep... oh, what’s his name -- Sigurd here? You’re sure you can trust him?”

Edric had a feeling this would come up sooner or later. “I know you didn’t get the best first impression of him, Lady Moira, but I assure you he means no harm. He is a good man.”

“I just think it’d be best if you found a man of Christ to protect you,” she countered, “rather than someone from such a questionable background. I mean, where did you even find him?”

Edlynne jumped in. “We didn’t find Sigurd. It was a fisherman in Agenbury who saved his life.”

“Saved his life?”

“Aye,” Edric said. “He was wounded when he washed up on the shore; barely breathing, in fact. A man named Wilfred rescued him, but his treatment wasn’t enough to keep Sigurd alive. So, we brought him back to the castle in order to let Linette take care of him. He’s been eager to repay us for our help ever since.”

Moira’s expression flattened with skepticism. “Hmm. Well, as long as he’s doing his job. Still, I’d advise you to be cautious. The vikings aren’t known for having a protective nature, after all.”

Edric decided to stifle his frustration for the moment. “...Of course, my lady. I--” he paused for a second, perking his head up in interest, “--well, speak of the Devil. Here he is.”

Turning around to face the door, everyone in the dining room brought their attention to the entrance upon hearing Edric’s remark, only to find Sigurd himself strolling through the archway. 

He wasn’t wearing any armor like he normally did on a day-to-day basis, and it appeared as if he actually made an effort to clean up. There didn’t seem to be a speck of dirt dotting his face, and a fine tunic had replaced the shell of metal that usually covered his body.

Edric beamed brightly at Sigurd, welcoming him with a smile.

“Sigurd! You decided to come.”

The viking took a hesitant step into the room, clearly feeling a bit uncomfortable. “I did.”

Edric gestured to the spot next to him. “Well, have a seat then. I’ll pour you a drink.”

Walking past the guards as he ventured further into the hall, Sigurd’s eyes briefly flicked to the opposite side when he noticed Gjuki slipping in through another pair of doors, sticking to the shadows. The room had gone completely quiet ever since their arrival, but it didn’t look like anyone had caught on to what they were doing just yet.

Odin willing, it would stay that way.

Sitting down beside Edric at the table, Sigurd quietly observed the people around him and shifted awkwardly in his seat, admittedly feeling incredibly out of place. Even though he was more familiar with Forangal’s occupants nowadays, he couldn’t deny that Raedan’s family put him on edge -- even with Edric at his side.

They were nothing more than a set of new faces to Sigurd, after all. Raedan’s name meant nothing to him in this war, and it was obvious that his wife wasn’t too fond of him either. 

He supposed he would just have to get used to it.

“You’re very tall.” Sibley suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Edric poured some wine into Sigurd’s cup, chuckling at the comment. “He is, isn’t he? A proper giant, this man. Still, you look nice this evening, Sigurd. You clean up better than I would’ve expected.”

The compliment allowed him to relax a bit. “You think? I guess there is hope for me, after all.”

“So it would seem.”

Moira’s beady gaze instantly locked onto the viking. “...Ah. Sigurd. You and I met briefly at the main gate yesterday. I must admit, I’m surprised to see you here after our... introduction. What brings you here tonight?”

“Edric invited me.”

“Did he?”

The young man spoke up. “Yes. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

The woman’s lips pursed in annoyance, and she threw a side glance at Sigurd. “No, of course not. So long as he minds his manners.”

The viking returned the comment with a glare. “The same could be said for you, my lady.”

Edric froze at the retort, already regretting this situation he had created.

“Sigurd...!” He whispered in a cautionary tone.

The other man let out a quiet sigh, deciding to hold himself back for the moment.

“...Forgive me,” Sigurd apologized, his voice stiff with reluctance, “I fear I can be rather... hasty with my words sometimes.”

Moira’s stare only seemed to sharpen in response to the apology, but she decided to drop the conversation nonetheless. Despite her husband’s silence, she could see that Raedan was unhappy with her animosity towards Sigurd, and she did not wish to cause a scene in front of her children. 

Algar, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more amused by the display.

“Have no fear, Lady Moira,” the housecarl joked. “Sigurd may look intimidating, but in truth, he’s about as harmful as a newborn pup. You and your family will be just fine.”

Initially, Sigurd planned to ignore the taunt and simply carry on with his meal, but once he noticed Gjuki approaching Algar from the shadows, he knew he had to keep the man’s attention away from him, lest they both be killed.

“Is your life so devoid of purpose that you must resort to taunting me all day, Algar?” He asked, distracting him. “Or is this simply a new hobby of yours?”

Algar chuckled. “Struck a nerve, did I? I apologize. It’s unbecoming of me to attack a man who’s already down. After all, I know you can scarcely lift a sword these days.”

“Neither can you, it seems. It appears that your foes have a habit of... getting back up.”

Edric finally snapped.

“Enough, both of you.” He said firmly, setting his cup down on the table. “Is it so hard to look past your differences for one night? I invited Sigurd here because I trust him as a friend. He is here at my behest, and I would not see him disrespected. Now, please...” Edric let out a breath, “...no more bickering. We’ve got plenty of that outside of these walls already.”

Backing down from their heated altercation, both Sigurd and Algar decided to put the matter to rest for now and quietly returned to their meals, still eyeing each other from across the table.

Meanwhile, Gjuki gently snuck a hand into the pouch hanging from the housecarl’s belt and quickly patted around it, only to take out a peculiar-looking object once he found what he was searching for.

It didn’t resemble any key Sigurd had ever seen in his life, and the shape was undeniably rather odd, but the bard seemed to recognize it, so he assumed it must’ve been the same one mentioned in that mysterious note.

Gjuki gave the viking a subtle nod and began heading out the door, beckoning Sigurd to follow him once he had the chance.

“Sigurd?” Edric said privately, tearing the man’s gaze away from his hidden friend.

“I-- yes?” He replied, his tone now coated with a hint of urgency. “What is it?”

The nobleman examined him for a moment. “...Are you alright? You seem... distracted.”

Sigurd brought himself back to the current gathering and pushed his thoughts to the side, attempting to conceal his eagerness to see what Gjuki had discovered.

“I’m fine, Edric. Just... tired from the day is all.”

The Saxon didn’t seem to notice Gjuki. “Well, I don’t blame you. I know things have been tough for you lately. But put all that aside for now. Tonight, we feast. Let us cast aside our worries, and simply enjoy the evening.” He raised his goblet in the air. “To our loved ones, and the hope that we may see them again someday.”

Sigurd smiled at Edric, picking up his drink. “Skål.”

Tapping their cups together, the two of them emptied their goblets in a lively toast and carried on with the night, doing their best to stay in high spirits despite Algar’s presence. Even though Sigurd was mainly there to act as a distraction for the housecarl, he couldn’t deny that he genuinely found joy being in Edric’s company.

The man was just... everything he wanted. He made Sigurd feel like he mattered. He made him feel safe.

There were many things the viking found himself worrying about nowadays, but with Edric there to help guide him through it, Sigurd honestly wished he could’ve stayed in Forangal a little longer. And that frightened him.

These people were supposed to be his enemies; his targets. They were the ones responsible for the destruction of his clan, and yet... Sigurd couldn’t bring himself to hate them.

Of course, he wouldn’t object to seeing Algar’s head on a pike -- and he had his own grudges to hold when it came to Aegenwulf -- but everyone else in the castle struck him as no more than regular civilians. They were just other human beings trying to survive in this godforsaken war, and a part of Sigurd’s conscience shriveled up in remorse at the idea of harming them.

They didn’t deserve death, nor did they deserve Eivor’s wrath. But Sigurd knew that without the chance to witness their compassion face-to-face, his brother would be less inclined to show them mercy.

He would have to find some way to bring them to an understanding. He had no doubts that Eivor’s wounds remained fresh after everything that transpired in Ravensthorpe, and the last thing Sigurd wanted was to be caught in the middle.

There was good and bad on both sides of this battle, and he prayed he’d be able to make Gjuki see that. That man was the one thing keeping the brothers in touch, and in the end, Eivor’s impression of Forangal depended on him.

He was the only reason Eivor had any idea of what was happening in Wedenscire, and Sigurd could only hope that his messages weren’t being twisted with malice. 

Otherwise, he dreaded to imagine what awaited them in the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Stepping gently through the lengthy corridors, Sigurd followed the amber glow of the flicking torches as their flames danced softly against the walls, dimly lighting the floor so that he could see where he was going.

It had been a few minutes ever since the feast ended, and Gjuki all but vanished from the dining hall after stealing the key, but upon taking his leave, Sigurd found a note telling him to return to his chambers.

He didn’t know if something was wrong, or if the invitation was a trap, but regardless of what awaited him in the near future, Sigurd knew he’d have to face it eventually.

Everything he and Gjuki had worked for thus far was riding on this plan, and if something had gone awry, he wished to figure out what it was sooner than later. There was no telling what would happen if Algar learned of their schemes after all, and the last thing Sigurd wanted was to be caught with his hands tied.

“...Gjuki?” Sigurd said quietly as he walked into his quarters, opening the door as subtly as possible. 

There weren’t any guards patrolling in the vicinity at the moment, and most of Forangal’s people seemed to be asleep by now, but the viking still wanted to be cautious. Algar could’ve been lurking around somewhere in the shadows for all he knew, and he didn’t fancy the idea of bumping into him again.

“Ah, there you are, Lone Wolf,” the bard replied from Sigurd’s bed, free from the confines of his helm. “I thought those Saxons would never let you go.”

The other man shut the door behind closed him, keeping his voice low lest it seep out into the corridor.

“You found the key, yes? Did anyone notice you on the way out?”

Gjuki smirked, holding the key in the air for Sigurd to see. “Not a single soul. It’s as if I was never there. Honestly, the most difficult part of the theft was having to endure Lady Moira’s bleating. How anyone deals with that woman is beyond me.”

Sigurd sighed. “Well, I’d rather take her over Algar any day. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you were able to find the key. Do you know where to use it?”

The bard stood up from the bed. “I have yet to find an exact location, but there is enough in Algar’s note that I should be able to track it down. Apparently, this crypt of his is somewhere near Forangal, but hidden well enough that most people simply stroll right past it. It’s difficult to find even when you know what to look for.”

The viking stepped next to Gjuki, observing the key in his hand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Gjuki thought for a moment. “Hmm. Not much, I’m afraid. All I would ask is that you proceed with your life as compliantly as possible. Do what the Saxons say. Follow their commands. Keep your head down. I know it’s... an unfavorable approach, but if I’m going to rummage through Algar’s belongings and find out what he’s hiding, I’ll need you to make sure that his suspicion stays low.”

Sigurd nodded, admittedly somewhat annoyed at the thought of having to take Moira’s insults without fighting back. “...If that’s what you need, then I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Sigurd. I promise, I’ll return to you as soon as I discover something. Just keep an eye on that pier I mentioned. When I’m ready to meet you again, I’ll light the brazier. I think it’s best if we go over Algar’s secrets in private.”

“Understood.”

Gjuki slipped the key back into his pocket, striding towards the door. “Good. Then I best be off. In the meantime, I’ll also prepare for Broder’s return.”

The viking raised a brow. “Broder? Who’s that?” 

“Oh, I never told you his name, did I? Forgive me. He’s a Dane aiding me in this investigation. He too comes from East Anglia. I sent him back to report to Eivor on the day I first met you, but I imagine he’ll be making his way back now. I’ll tell him of what you and I have accomplished here.”

A thought suddenly crossed Sigurd’s mind, causing him to stop Gjuki in his tracks.

“Wait, Gjuki. Before you leave...”

The bard glanced over his shoulder. “Hm? What is it, Lone Wolf?”

“Earlier, back in the courtyard, you told me Eivor was planning to attack Forangal Castle. That he wanted revenge.”

Gjuki nodded. “Yes, but it’s going to take some time. He’ll need more allies before he can muster the strength necessary to assault this fortress.”

A concerned look spread across Sigurd’s face. “Well, when you get the chance, let him know that there are good people here. Tell him that not all of them deserve to be killed, and that not everyone here is our enemy.”

The other man chuckled and crossed his arms. “...You truly believe that, don’t you?”

Sigurd shrugged, confused about Gjuki’s reaction. “And why shouldn’t I? Is there something you know that I don’t?”

The bard lowered his voice to a whisper, speaking in a manner similar to that of a snake.

“I see the way these Saxons look at you when your back is turned to them. I see the way they mock our gods, and twist your mind. They would lock you in a cage next to their dogs if they could, and yet, they chain you with an illusion of friendship because that’s the only thing that’ll keep you from retaliating.”

The viking shook his head. “You have the wrong idea, Gjuki. Even though there are some people here who would see me dead, there are also those who would defend me. Like Edric and his siblings.”

The bard laughed. “You don’t even realize that you’re being indoctrinated, do you? I know you care for Edric, but he is not your friend, Sigurd. I heard your conversation with him in the courtyard. You haven’t even been here for a month and he’s already asking you to convert to Christianity. Don’t you see what he’s trying to do? He’s trying to turn you into a thrall.”

Sigurd placed his hands on his hips, growing somewhat concerned about Gjuki’s paranoia. “No, he isn’t. Edric asked me to consider Christianity, yes, but he’s not forcing me into it.”

The other man wasn’t convinced. “...Not yet.”

Gjuki looked Sigurd directly in the eye, practically piercing through his gaze.

“Listen to me carefully, Lone Wolf. Even though I know my words will carry little meaning in a time like this, I still think you need to hear them. Before I met your brother, I was a slave to a Dane called Rued who used to reside in East Anglia. He was an argr rat, and spoke with a forked tongue. He did the same thing that these Saxons are doing to you. He displayed enough brutality so that we would stay in our place, but offered us the occasional ‘reward’ to keep us obedient. He was our friend from time to time, but mainly our oppressor.”

“This...” Gjuki continued, gesturing to the room around them, “...is your reward. And that...” he pointed to Sigurd’s suit of armor, “...is your leash. So take my advice. Break free from the binds that they have put on your hugr, and be ready to strike when the time comes. These Saxons are nothing more than vipers, and you’d do best to remember that. Trust me, I would know.”

Putting their conversation to an end, Gjuki decided he had said enough and began making his way out the door, leaving Sigurd with one last piece of advice.

“I know none of this is your fault, Sigurd, but do not forget where you come from, nor what started all this. You are only here because the gods were kind enough to spare you, not because these Saxons wanted you to live. So the next time Edric offers you his friendship, remember, his father would’ve killed you in a heartbeat if everything went according to plan. A hatred like that doesn’t disappear just because you raise a sword in his name.”

Gjuki pulled the door open, suddenly trapped in an uncommonly dour mood.

“Farewell for now, Sigurd. I pray that the gods will be merciful in the days to come, and I hope that you and Eivor will be able to reunite soon. It isn’t too late to recover from this mess yet, but time waits for no one. And it certainly won’t wait for you.”

[jawritter]

Your Better Half

Request: Jensen Ackles x Sick!Reader

Warning: Some swearing, fluff, tinny bit of angst, doctor and medical realted stuff, fear of needles. That’s about it I think.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Sick!Reader

Word Count: 2050

Want more? Check out my masterlist!

******MASTERLIST******

Hit by a moving bus, after being dropped from an airplane, then thrown into a frozen lake, after having every joint in your body unhinged. That's what you felt like when you rolled out of bed this morning. You barely made it to the bathroom and back to the bed without nearly passing out. You had a high fever, that much you knew, and your stomach felt... Off... Not quite nauseated, but definitely on the verge of it. 

Your head was pounding like it had been split open. You had a cold chill even though you were sweating, and your whole body seemed to ach deep down in your bones. You knew that your husband would be awake any minute, but you just couldn't even get yourself together to drag yourself to the coffee pot. 

When you crawled into bed again Jensen stretched in his sleep and rolled himself over to face. Blinking sleepily at you as his mossy green eyes focused on you.

"Morning." He mumbled. Giving you a weak smile. Still not quite awake.

"Morning." You said, your voice sounding like you had attempted to swallow glass, and burning with every syllable. 

Jensen's eyes shot open immediately. Sitting up he started to look you over, putting his hand on your forehead, checking you for a fever. 

"Sweetheart your burning up!" He said. Ripping the thick comforter from your body, leaving just the sheet. You whined in protest, but he was already on his feet. Fetching a glass of water and a few Ibuprofen for your. 

You took the pills and attempted to swallow as much of the water as you could, but it just didn't want to go down smooth. Sending you into a coughing fit that made your chest burn as well as your throat. Jensen sat there staring at you wide eyed. You could tell he was on the verge of panic. 

Jensen was a natural worrier, he almost had a little bit of superman syndrome. Like he could save, protect, and do anything, and those things that were out of his control. Like sickness. It made him worry. Especially when it comes to you.

"Y/n we need to go to the hospital." Jensen said. Getting up and digging a pair of your yoga pants and a T-Shirt out of your shared dresser drawer. Throwing them on the bed at you. "Don't make me dress you and throw you over my shoulder to carry you out of her, because you know I'll do it." He threatened. Eyes narrowed and arms crossed. Watching you closely. 

You knew he'd do it, so even though you'd rather die than go to the doctor you dressed yourself as best  as you could. Not even really bothering to brush your hair. Just throwing it into a messy bun. 

You looked horrible, but you felt horrible. So you didn't care too much.

"Jensen there really isn't a point in going to the doctor. It's just a cold, I'll be fine." You complained as he grabbed you by the hand and hurriedly drug you out to the car. He didn't speak until you were seated in the car, and he was backing it down the driveway.

"Your sick y/n, you need to go to the doctor so they can check you. What if you have pneumonia or something." He said. His voice was tense, and you knew he was overreacting. Even if it didn't always show visibly on Jensen. He was worried.

"Jensen what if they want to hook me up to an IV or give me a shot, you know how I feel about needles." You protested. Your insides starting to shake, and you couldn't tell if it was the fever or fear. You really had always hated needles, even though your ears, belly button, and  nose and a piercing, and you had a few small tattoos. Something about a doctor and a needle scared the hell out of you. 

"Then I'll be right there to hold you." Jensen said, his eyes softening a little when he looked at you this time before diverting his eyes back to the road. He knew how much you hated needles, shots, and doctors.

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

After what felt like an eternity in the waiting area with at least a hundred other people who looked just as bad as you probably did and felt. They called you back and took your information. You sat there on the crinkly paper in a cold sterilized room Jensen sitting next to you, one of his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

He never left your side. Through the paperwork, through the blood pressure checks, through the temperature checks, through the chest x-rays. He was right next to you like he promised he'd be. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the doctor to come back in with his diagnosis. 

"Jay this is ridiculous. I want to go home." You tell him. Burning your face into his shoulder. Wanting nothing more than to disappear from this horrible place before the doctor returned to do god knows what to you.

"It's all gonna be fine, they will give you some meds to help you feel better. Then we can go home, watch shit TV, and cuddle until you feel better." He promised. The thought of spending the rest of the day wrapped up with Jensen in your warm bed didn't sound half bad at all, but it wasn't enough to keep your mind from worrying that they were going to come in with a shot of some sort. 

Before you could get a word out the doctor came into the room. Looking over a chart. A nurse with him. 

"Okay Mrs. Ackles. It looks like you have the influenza type A. So we're going to give you some Tamiflu to help with that, you also have a pretty high fever. So you will need to alternate tylenol and motrin every three hours. When it comes to fever it's best to stay on top of it before it gets bad. Makes it easier to control. Stay in bed, no physical activities for at least a week." The doctor cleared his throat and closed your chart. 

"Now lastly we're going to give you a steroid shot to try and stave off any pneumonia that might try to develop. If you start coughing more, feeling short of breath, or your chest starts to feel tight or too heavy, come back in. We may have to do it again. I've seen us have to do it as many as once a day for three days for some people That's not the case for everyone though, so don't think that you have to come in every three days. Once may be enough." He said. His nurse prepping your upper arm already as he was talking. Getting ready to stab you with the shot. 

"Jensen..." You said. Tears already starting to make their way down your checks.

Jensen pulled your head tight to his shoulder, and held on to you as tight as he could. Almost crushing you. "Look sweetheart, just look at me. It will be quick." He said, tilting your chin up to look at him. 

You had never wanted to die so much in your entire life, If you had to do this for three days, this very well might kill you.

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

Once you had gotten your prescription form the pharmacy, and were back home Jensen tucked you into bed. Insisting you take a nap while he prepares lunch. Tried to tell him you'd rather just cuddle with him, but insisted. 

When he brought the lunch into you, you hadn't been able to doze off at all. Everything was just cold and uncomfortable. The steroid shot was probably working on you too, so you were miserable, and wide awake.

You didn't realize how sick your stomach was unil Jensen entered the room with the chicken noodle soup in a bowl on the tray though. You turned your head away from the assaulting smell as Jensen sat the tray down next to you on the bed.

"Baby you need to eat something. You haven't eaten all day." He said, watching you turn away from the food he'd sat down in front of you. 

"I'm not hungry you mumbled." Pulling the covers over your head. Refusing to look at him.

"Y/n..." Jensen's voice warned, but you continued to ignore him.

"You know if you don't eat you will have to go back to the hospital and you will probably have more problems than just a shot." Jensen threatened and you gave him your best bitch fact. 

"I'm sorry Jay, but I don't feel like eating. My stomach feels off, and if I eat it's probably just gonna come right back up." You protest. Jensen ran his hand down his face harshly.

"Y/N YOU'RE NEVER GONNA GET BETTER IF YOU DON'T EAT, NOW STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD AND AT LEAST EAT A LITTLE BIT OF THIS FOOD!!!" 

Jensen rarely ever yelled at you, you sat there for a moment eyes wide. Trying to not cry. Knew you could be difficult when you were sick, you were never the easiest patient, but you didn't know he thought you were acting like a child.

Rolling your sore body into a sitting position you tired to not cry as you picked up the tray of soup. Moving the spoon around the bowl. The silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife as Jensen watched every move you made. 

Finally he sighed and took the bowl from you. Setting it on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. Chewing on his lower lip. 

"I'm sorry. You don't feel well and I shouldn't have yelled at you. We will try the food again later after you've rested some more. I'm just worried about you and wanted to get you feeling better as quickly as I could." Jensen said, moving closer to you and wrapping his strong arms around your body. Holding you close to him and nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I'm sorry Jay, I shouldn't have been acting like a child. I know I'm not the easiest patient in the world to take care of, and I know you're just trying to take care of me. I'll try not to be so difficult." You muttered, and Jensen laid the two of you down, picking up the controller and turning something random on netflix. 

"I love you baby girl. I just want to see you feeling better again. I don't mean to be pushy and mean, you know I just worry. Now let's lay here and watch Netflix until we go to sleep. I won't push you again. I won't yell at you anymore either. You just tell me what you need, and I'll do my best to make you feel better, and take care of you okay?" Jensen asked. His eyes softened as he looked at you. The lines showing around his eyes more than they usually did. Telling you that he was just as tired as you were.

"I love you to Jay." You tell him as he gives you a peck on the forehead before tucking the covers around you tighter. Lacing his fingers with yours. Letting you snuggle back into his warmth as sleep finally started to take you. They said it could take up to a week before you started to feel better. This was going to be a long week. 

You were thankful thought that even if he had to take you back once a day for three day, put up with you being grumpy and emotional like you tended to do when you got sick, or even just laid there being completely boring because it was all you could get your body to do just stare at the TV, you knew there was no place he'd rather be than right here. His arms wrapped around you. Holding you close. 

Because even before you were sick he never ceased to tell you how much he loved you. How much he appreciated you, and how he'd always be there. 

Jensen didn't take the vows he took on your wedding day light. When they said in sickness and in health he meant every word, and you didn't know what in the world you would do without your better half.

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

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​​ @imabitch4jensen​​ @rvgrsbrns​​ @bi-danvers0​​ @onethirstyunicorn​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @akshi8278​ @alanegaming​

[kiapet2]

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 7: Nice Job Breaking It, Hero

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: An unlikely alliance is made.

Chapter Warnings: Captivity, Death Mentions

“So, how are you holding up? Because I’m a potato.”

Wind whips at your clothing and hair, that and the weightless feeling in your stomach the only indications that you are falling. You do your best to glower at the tuber hanging in front of you in the air.

“It’s your own fault. You’re the one who insulted him.”

The potato scoffs. “He normally doesn’t care what you say about him. Owns it, even. This... temper tantrum... is your fault for putting him in charge of the facility in the first place!”

“My fault?” you say incredulously. “Like you gave me a choice!”

“You could have just let me kill you,” the potato says. “It really is terrible etiquette to depose your host, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be sure to remember that next time.”

There’s a sudden jolt as your feet and then your back connect with something smooth and inclined, and then you find that in place of the elevator shaft you were just falling down, you are now sliding down a clear plastic tube.

“Ah. It looks like he caught us,” the potato says casually from behind. “I’m sure that wherever we’re going is simply delightful, don’t you?

You don’t have a good response to that so you choose to ignore it. You try to look at your surroundings, not sure whether to be relieved to have been saved from the seemingly bottomless elevator shaft or worried about where you might be going now. The tube you’re in changes trajectory quickly, going both up and down and taking sharp turns to either side. Rooms whizz by too quickly to get a good look, but you can occasionally recognize the distinctive white of test chambers.

That’s probably where you’re going now. You only just won your freedom, and now you’re being thrown right back in.

“Since we have all this time together,” the potato drawls, “Let’s give you some facts about our situation, hmm? Remus is the Creativity Core. The original Creativity Core, made years before our dear Roman first came into being.”

“Yes, I knew that,” you say impatiently.

“Well then,” the potato says, “You must have heard how Remus was ‘corrupted’. But do you know what that actually means?”

“I suspect you’re going to tell me.”

“It means, my sweet, stupid Thomas, that Remus isn’t constrained by so-called rules and morals the way your dear little friends are. He’s Creativity in its most raw, unbridled form. No inhibitions, no control, nothing to stop him from doing whatever the hell he wants.”

The potato’s voice turns mocking. “And you just put him in charge of the entire facility.”

The sound of slow claps echoes through the tube.

“Ah, good,” the potato says, “I was wondering if that function still worked.”

“It’s not like I had much choice,” you snap. “If you remember, you were trying to kill me at the time!”

“Yes, well, now everyone in Aperture is going to die. That’s clearly so much better, thank goodness for your quick thinking!”

You groan in frustration and run your hands through your hair. He’s right about that last part- replacing Remus was a mistake, one made in desperation maybe, but one which may still cost you your life.

Wait. He said-

“What do you mean, ‘everyone in Aperture?’” you say. “Are the others in danger?”

“Of course not,” the potato drawls. “Having a maniac at the head of this facility wouldn’t affect them at all, it’s not like they’re inherently connected to it or anything.”

You’ve just opened your mouth to respond when the tube splits, your body sliding into one fork while the potato is sucked into the other. In a moment, he’s gone from your view.

You’ve only just had time to register the separation when suddenly the tube ends and you find yourself flying through the air. Your feet hit solid ground, and though your boots stop most of the force of your landing you still find yourself overbalancing from the forward momentum and falling flat on your face. Your nose explodes into pain as it connects with the floor.

“Augh!” Tears form in your eyes and you gingerly feel at your nose. It isn’t broken, or at least you think it isn’t- would you be able to tell if it was?- and your fingers come away without blood, so you think it’s probably okay. Smarts like hell, though.

You sit up and look around, blinking the tears away. You’re in a small room, bare except for a button and connected door. The area around you is sterile and empty, with the Core-turned-potato nowhere to be seen. You’re not sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved- he isn’t exactly your favorite person right now, but at least if he were here you’d have someone to talk to.

As if on cue, a familiar voice fills the room.

Heeeey, Tommy-boy! Long time no see! Did you enjoy the ride? Do you think if you hit your nose again it would start gushing blood?

You grimace at the mental image, resisting the urge to feel again at your nose, then turn and cross your arms at the nearest security camera.

“Either let me go, or just get on with it!”

Touchy, touchy, Remus says. Well, if you’re that eager to get to testing, who am I to stop you?

Some sort of clear cylinder lowers into the center of the room, then slides open in front.

Well? Remus says as you move forward to tentatively inspect it. Are you going to get in?

It’s an elevator, you realize, but much smaller than you’re used to, almost claustrophobic if it weren’t for the clear walls- which will likely be nerve-wracking when the thing is actually in motion. You suspect the unsettling elements of the design are deliberate on Remus’ part, which just makes you even more certain that getting into this thing is not a good idea.

Or if you want, you could stay here and get hungrier and thirstier until you curl up and die. I bet I could get a lot of data from that!

You bite your lip and turn away, looking again at your surroundings. Surely, there’s some way out of here that isn’t that elevator. And yet, no matter where you look you’re trapped in. There’s no gaps in the walls to shoot portals through, and not enough height to build up momentum and try to launch yourself out.

You go back and stand in front of the elevator, your stomach twisting itself into knots. You just got out of the testing chambers- could you really bring yourself to go back? But what choice do you even have, when the alternative is staying here and hoping someone finds you before you die of thirst?

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you step forward into the elevator and watch as the doors close around you.

Now I’ve taken a look at Jan-Jan’s tests, Remus says as the elevator begins to rise, and they were okay and all, but it’s pretty clear he isn’t the Creativity Core, you know? I mean, toxic sludge and balls of electricity? It’s a start, I guess, but why limit yourself to the same old stuff when there’s so many fun ways to kill people?

The elevator slows to a stop, revealing a small testing chamber.

So that’s why I’ve come up with newer, deadlier obstacles for you to solve! First up: deadly lasers! I wouldn’t touch them if I were you- or at least if you enjoy having ten fingers. Have fun!

The doors open and you step out into the room, which looks strangely familiar. After a moment it hits you.

“I’ve already done this test chamber,” you say, then grimace, mentally kicking yourself. Sure Thomas, tell the deranged AI he needs to make his tests harder, that’ll turn out well for you.

Yes, but this one has deadly lasers, which automatically makes it better, Remus’ voice says petulantly. You caught me at a bad time! We used to have hundreds of test chambers locked away, but now I have to either use good old JAN-9000’s rooms or make them from scratch. So solve your silly little laser puzzle so you can get to the good stuff!

Wonderful, you think sarcastically, super looking forward to it. Then you sigh and just solve the puzzle.

Like the test chamber you previously solved, the solution is as simple as redirecting the laser with a pair of portals, and before you know it you’re back in the elevator. The one after is similarly simple, and involves using a special glass cube to redirect the lazers while Remus cheerfully narrates what they would do to you if you messed up and hit one. It’s almost nostalgic, really, though Remus’ descriptions of the danger are more gleeful where Virgil’s were more stressed.

By the time you get back into the cramped-yet-uncomfortably-exposed elevator, your heart is starting to calm down just a bit. It’s not like you haven’t done this before, right? Sure, you had the others then, and you’re pretty sure they’re the only reason you’re alive right now, but. It’s fine. You’re fine. And if you keep thinking it enough, maybe you’ll actually believe it.

The next test chamber forms before your eyes, panels pulling into place to make floors and walls while Remus tuts and apologizes to “Daddy” for making a mess. You do your best to ignore him as you step forward, finding a deep pit with a moving platform going across, directly into the path of a laser.

After a moment of surveying the room, you use your portals to get to the familiar form of a cube dispenser. Just like every other time you’ve used a cube dispenser, it promptly drops a cube. Unlike every other time you’ve used one, another object drops out right after the cube, one that shrieks as it falls, then bounces off the cube’s top and onto the ground with a series of “ow”s.

For a moment your stomach flutters with the hope that it might be one of your friends. Then you realize that the object that fell was much too small, and hit far too quietly, to be a Core- or at least a Core living in a body that isn’t a potato.

Just your luck, that the one person in this facility you were reunited with would be the one you least wanted to see. You go over anyways, kneeling down and poking at the potato lying on the ground.

“Hey, um, are you alright?”

“I’ve been better,” the potato mutters into the floor.

“I take it you got sidetracked?” you say, picking up the potato and not even bothering to hide your smirk. “Had a little rollercoaster ride in the cube system?”

“Yes, yes, hilarious,” the potato says. “If you picked me up just to mock me, I’d kindly ask you to just leave me here to rot, please.”

“And here I thought Roman was dramatic,” you say.

“Ah, yes, dearest Roman,” the potato says, a sinister little smile in his voice. “How might he be doing, do you think? It looked like he fell quite far.”

Your knuckles creak as your hands form into fists. “I swear to you, if he isn’t okay-”

“You’ll what? Tear me out of my own body and replace me with someone who put me in a literal potato? Oh, wait, you already did that!”

You take a deep breath, forcing your muscles to relax. “You know what? This isn’t worth it. I need to find the others, and you’re just wasting my time.”

You set the potato down and turn, preparing to take the cube and step back onto the moving platform.

“What if I said I knew how to find them?”

You freeze, then turn back. “You know where the others are?”

“Perhaps.”

You crouch down and pick the potato up again. “Where are they?!”

“Right, because I both know the exact location and would be willing to tell you if I did.”

“But you’ll help me find him?” you say insistently.

“Me, help you?” the potato says. “This situation is your doing, so why would I possibly want to help you?”

You hold the potato up to eye level, giving him a glare.

“Because this is as much your fault as mine. You’re going to help me fix it, or I will throw you down into the deepest depths of this facility I can find and leave you to rot.”

For a moment you’re afraid you went too far, but the potato just gives a deep chuckle. “Well Thomas, I must say I’m impressed. I didn’t know you had it in you. Since you asked so nicely, I will help you find the others, on one condition: you restore me to my rightful place at the head of this facility.

You almost drop him in shock. “What? No! You being in control here was what caused this problem in the first place!”

The potato sighs. “Do you know what my intended purpose is, Thomas?”

“Putting people through rat mazes and then killing them?”

The potato continues as if you hadn’t said anything. “I am the System Preservation Core. I kept this facility running when everyone else had failed, forwarded its interests above all else for decades until you replaced me and threw it all away.”

“Forwarded its interests above human lives?” you say incredulously.

“Of course.”

You scowl down at the potato. “So how do I know you’re not just going to kill me the second you get back control?”

“Thomas,” the potato replies dryly, “I think you’ve proven once and for all that it is much greater of a threat to this facility to try to kill you than to let you go.”

There’s no way you can trust that, not when this Core lies so easily. Then again, some part of your brain whispers, there’s nothing to stop you from going back on the agreement later on if need be. It’s not like he can do much as a potato.

“All right,” you find yourself saying. “When I’ve found my friends, we’ll put you back where you were.” The declaration hangs in the air between you, and you silently hope you haven’t just made a terrible mistake.

“Right then,” the potato says, businesslike. “We’re going to need some way for you to carry me, preferably not in your hands as I absolutely relish the idea of being dropped mid-jump. Wait, what are you-”

Before you can think better of it, you find yourself taking the potato and spearing it onto one of the portal’s front tines, making its occupant yelp.

“Did you just stab me?” he shrieks.

“I didn’t- I mean I just-” you stammer, then jump as the potato lets out another yelp.

“I- whoa. Okay. That portal gun must have Magnesium or something in it; I think my power just went up half a bolt.”

“So- you’re good then?” you say.

He huffs. “As good as I can be as a potato, I suppose.”

You slump in relief so hard you need to steady yourself on the wall. You don’t like this Core, obviously, but you really didn’t feel like becoming a murderer today.

“At any rate,” the potato says, “I might as well put this processing power to use, since I doubt you’ll be of much help. If you need me I’ll be doing some scheming. See y-”

The potato’s voice cuts out, and his light goes dark.

Okay, so maybe you spoke too soon on the not-having-murdered-anyone thing.

“Uh, potato guy?” you say nervously, poking at the potato. “Buddy? You good there?”

After a moment the yellow light blinks back on.

“Huh? What happened? How long have I been out?”

“Er, thirty seconds? More or less?” you say.

He hrms. “Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing. The extra half a volt helps, but it can only go so far. If I think too hard I’m going to fry this lousy tuber.”

“Wonderful, I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” you mutter. The sarcasm makes your tone sound almost identical to the potato’s, which gives you a weird, almost deja-vu-like feeling.

You shake the feeling off, hefting the portal gun and using it to grab the nearby cube. “Are you at least ready to go, Mr. Potato Head?”

The potato huffs. “Do keep making up ridiculous nicknames for me, it’s not like I have a real name or anything.”

“Oh, right,” you say. “Remus called you Jan, right? Or, uh, Janny?”

“Janus,” the potato hisses.

You raise an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The potato hesitates for a moment, before it sighs and says, “My name is Janus.”

You mull that over for a moment. A bit unusual, but not bad as names go.

Taking a deep breath, you move forward, stepping onto the moving platform and preparing to finish the puzzle.

“Alright then, Janus,” you say. “Looks like we’re a team.”

[snowdice]

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 31]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. All of chapter 11 and what I have of chapter 12 is under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today.

The Goblin Brain™ is acting up today. Save me.

Virgil smiled awkwardly at the cashier when he entered the gas station. He went straight to the coffee to get Patton one. He went ahead and got the largest size cup because they were probably going to be a while and started to fill it up at the machine.

He… didn’t quite understand why the man was still going to be driving him when he didn’t have a knife on him, but hopefully it wasn’t a trick. It was probably a trick. He should probably tell the cashier he’d been kidnapped.

But then the cashier would definitely call the cops and knowing his mother Virgil would definitely be screwed.

So, instead, Virgil put the lid on Patton’s coffee and found that there was one plain donut with chocolate frosting still in the case. He grabbed that and then searched around the candy aisle for a bit. He finally settled on a pack of Red Vines and grabbed a blue raspberry slushie. If he was going to get axe murdered by some guy that kept a stuffed bear named Barnaby in his car, he was going to do so with a blue tongue.

He handed over the 20-dollar bill to the cashier and then gathered up the snacks and drinks to take them to the car.

He caught Patton with his phone in his hands while he was pumping gas. “Hey, what are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“Just sending a text to my brother so he doesn’t worry too much,” Patton replied quickly. Virgil gave him a suspicious look. When it became clear that Virgil wasn’t going to willingly take a step closer to the car after that, Patton sighed and held out his phone. “You can see,” he said.

Virgil set the drinks and snacks down on the hood of the car and took the phone. The phone indeed was open to just a string of emojis sent to someone called “Lo-Lo” in Patton’s phone. The string of emojis read (insert emoji string)

“There is… no way he’d understand that,” Virgil said. “I barely understand it and I lived it.” He paused. “I am not a baby.”

Patton snatched the phone back. “I didn’t say you were.”

“You typed ‘knife baby’ in emoji!” Virgil said.

“Baby with a knife actually,” Patton said unrepentant. He grabbed his coffee and donut off the hood of the car and opened the driver’s door to put the drink in the cup holder and the donut on the seat. Then, he went to finish up pumping the gas.

Virgil frowned, but he did pick up his snack and drink and get into the passenger seat. He’d already thrown his lots in with the possible serial killer anyway.

Patton finished pumping the gas and got back into the car. “Don’t sit on your…” he sat on his donut.

“Oops!” he said. He sat up and grabbed the donut to take a bite. “Still good,” he declared with a grin.

Virgil rolled his eyes and took a long drag of the slushie.

“Don’t get brain freeze!”

“Whatever da-” He froze, chocking on the word.

Patton looked over at him, his face turning serious suddenly.

“Hey kiddo,” the man said softly. He reached over to put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him with warm earnest eyes. “I’m going to make sure you’re okay, okay?”

Virgil looked away from his far too knowing eyes. “You don’t even know me, why would you?”

“I like helping people when I can. A couple hours of driving aren’t much to make sure someone else is safe. I spend a lot of my life driving anyway.”

“What do you even do?” Virgil asked.

“I mostly do odd jobs for my brother.”

“That doesn’t sound like a real job,” Virgil said.

He started the car and began to back up as he answered. “Do you know much about real jobs, then?” he asked.

“Well…” Virgil said. “I mean, no, but… still.”

Patton smiled over at him. “Okay, I answered a question about me-”

‘Did you though,’ Virgil thought, his eyes narrowed.

“Now you answer a question about you.”

“Why?” Virgil asked suspiciously.

“Well, we have an hour and a half of driving left and neither of us are kidnapped anymore, we might as well get to know each other.”

“What’s the question?”

“What’s your favorite subject in school?” Patton asked cheerily.

“Really?” Virgil asked. “Is this what we’re doing?” Patton just smiled over at him and Virgil went about tearing open his package of Red Vines. “English,” he said taking a bite of his candy.

“I always liked History myself, but English was fun.”

Virgil hummed. “You have any family other than your brother?” he asked.

“Lo has two sons. They’re twins.”

“Cool,” Virgil replied.

“Favorite color?”

“Purple. So, you don’t have kids then?”

“Not of my own,” Patton replied. “But I helped with the twins when they were younger, and I like to think of all of my coworkers as my kiddos.”

Virgil’s face twisted up. He didn’t know much about adult workplaces, but… “I’m sure they appreciate that,” Virgil scoffed

“I like to think so,” Patton said, not even seeming to register the skepticism in Virgil’s tone. Was the man ever anything but chipper? “Favorite movie?”

“Ratatouille,” he said on instinct and then felt his stomach drop. His favorite movie was Ratatouille because Uncle Emile always insisted on playing it during movie nights. Dad would complain loudly because he knew that Emile and Virgil would spend the rest of the night making jokes about dad having the same name as the rat.

“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” Virgil said.

Patton glanced over at him in surprise. “Okay,” he said softly. Virgil was thankful he didn’t try to push.

They drove for another 10 minutes. Virgil did his best not to think about… everything, but it got increasingly harder. He tugged on the sleeved of his hoodie, his slushie and Red Vines forgotten. Finally, Patton looked back over at him, his eyes concerned. Virgil curled into himself expecting him to try to needle Virgil into talking.

Instead he just smiled sadly at him. “Why don’t we play a different game?”

“I… sure,” Virgil agreed. Might as well. Maybe it would help. “What game?”

“Ooo!” Patton said. “How about ‘I Kill Your Cows’? Lo always threatens to kill me by the end of that game.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah!” Patton said, “Because that means I’m winning.”

Virgil puffed out an amused breath. “Okay. How do you play?” he asked.

“Well,” Patton said. “Basically, when you see a group of cows you can claim them and say ‘I have 10 cows’ or however many there are. Whoever says it first gets the cows. If you see a church or other place people get married, you can say ‘I marry my cows’ and then your cows double. If you see a graveyard, you can say ‘I kill your cows’ and reset the other player back to zero cows. If you see a barn you can say ‘I put however many cows in that barn’ and the cows go in the barn. When they’re in the barn, they can’t be killed, but they can’t be married either. You have to wait to see another barn before you can take them out.”

“Alright,” Virgil agreed. “Sure. Why not?”

“Great!” Patton said. “There’s a field of them up there. Since you’re new to the game, I’ll let you grab the first few.”

Virgil squinted at the cows in the field. “I have 6 cows,” he said.

“Nice job!” Patton said.

Virgil rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what was impressive about counting a few cows, but he smiled a bit anyway.

They continued to play the cow game for a while. Patton was obviously really good at this game and obviously trying to not be as good at the game as he actually was so Virgil wouldn’t loose by a million cows.

They turned on the radio after a while. Unfortunately, the conspiracy channel had fizzled out by now so they turned to a local station that played a mix of music.

“Can I take horses?” Virgil asked after about 20 minutes of play.

“Sure,” Patton replied. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, I have 4 horses.”

“Ooo!” Patton said. “That horsey is a palomino! I’ll trade you two cows for that horse.”

Virgil was pretty sure that’s not how it was supposed to work. But… Patton was 18 animals ahead… “20,” Virgil countered.

Patton glanced over at him. “5.”

“15.”

“10.”

“11, so I’m winning for once.”

He thought about it for a long moment. “Deal,” he finally said.

“Yes!” Virgil said excitedly. “I’m winning!”

Patton smiled over at him. “I have five cows,” he said.

Virgil’s head shot up to look out the windshield. There were, in fact, five cows in the pasture right in front of them. “Dammit!”

Patton coughed meaningfully.

“You can’t murder me like that and then get mad when I cuss,” Virgil grumbled.

“Aw, cheer up kiddo. At least we haven’t found a graveyard yet.”

“But when we do, you will guiltlessly murder all of my cows,” Virgil said. “Because you are truly evil.”

Patton just laughed at him. Virgil grumpily reached forward to turn up the radio so he could ignore him easier.

The song that was playing faded out as he did so, and the radio jockey came on the air. “Quick traffic update, there’s been an accident on I-26. A semi-truck full of cattle rolled over near exit 52 and eastbound traffic has been stopped. If you’re on I-26, we’d suggest you find an alternative route as it will take a while to get all of the cows rounded up.”

“Well I’m glad we got off the interstate when we did,” said Patton.

“Yeah,” agreed Virgil. “It would suck to be stuck in the middle of that.” He paused and listened to the radio jockey continue to explain that the semi had been carrying at least 150 cows. “Hey, Patton, can I claim cows remotely?”

  Chapter 12

Remus sulked in the back of Roman’s car. It wasn’t fair. His brother and his best friend were both in the front seat and had been mocking him for the past 10 minutes and they wouldn’t even put on an interesting music station. Roman even told him about the time he’d peed on a wasp sting thinking it would work like it did for jellyfish.

“We should play a car game,” Remus suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Roman said immediately.

“Come on Ro, it’s tradition,” Remus said.

“You kill my cows every time!” Roman said. “You could kill Uncle Patton’s cows since he’s always winning, but you always choose to kill my cows!”

“But RooooOOO.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Remus relented. “No Cow Game.”

“Thank you.”

“I spy with my-”

“No, Remus.”

Remus paused. “I’m thinking of an animal.”

“I’m not playing Remus.”

They sat in silence for about 20 seconds. “There’s a Kentucky drivers license. One point for me.”

Roman chose to just ignore him now.

“Janus you’ll play with me, won’t you?” he asked.

“Remus, I don’t even know what you’re talking about and you’re already annoying me,” was the answer.

“Come on if we’re going to listen to stupid music, we should at least play a game. How about we try to find things outside of the car in alphabetical order. I’ll start. Airport sign! Now you find something starting with the letter ‘b’.”

[lgbtqiahistoricalromance]

Finishing Out Summer 2020 TBR List! - Updated 7/31

Starting back in March, I was adding novel after novel for purposes of reading during social distancing and Summer 2020. I’m hoping you all found some great reads, even if you haven’t been able to read them all. *Here is another batch to round out Summer 2020, and I’m thrilled by the selection that includes sapphic, trans MCs, and more eras and locations than any list to date.

Leather and Lace by Rebel Carter (Good Sky series #5) - May 20th - sapphic

Mary Sophia James came to Gold Sky, Montana to find a husband at the insistence of her overbearing mother. Striking out in spectacular fashion after setting her eye on Julian Baptiste, her options are dwindling, and time is running out. She needs to find a man to marry before her condition becomes…obvious. Her mother’s prejudices and sharp tongue aren’t helping matters and Mary, to her shame, hasn’t behaved much better. But all her plans are derailed when she spots the most beautiful person she’s ever seen across the town square. Alex Pierce is strong, intriguing, looks stunning in a pair of trousers…and a woman.

Gold Sky is accepting of all types of love, and that between women is no different. Still, Alex didn’t expect to be so floored by the sight of the firey haired, yet fragile looking young woman. Mary needs to be married and Alex has a solution. Because in Gold Sky, Montana there are many ways to be married…and not all of them include a man.

Leather and Lace is a 35k word novella set at the same time as the events of book 2, Hearth and Home. It includes a passionate and romantic f/f love in a town where diversity, and love, reign supreme.

Note : Leather and Lace has a bit of mail-order, arranged married, kind of secret baby with some foreced proximity sprinkled on top!

The Sugared Game by KJ Charles (The Will Darling Adventures #2) - August 26th

It’s been two months since Will Darling saw Kim Secretan, and he doesn’t expect to see him again. What do a rough and ready soldier-turned-bookseller and a disgraced, shady aristocrat have to do with each other anyway? But when Will encounters a face from the past in a disreputable nightclub, Kim turns up, as shifty, unreliable, and irresistible as ever. And before Will knows it, he’s been dragged back into Kim’s shadowy world of secrets, criminal conspiracies, and underhand dealings. This time, though, things are underhanded even by Kim standards. This time, the danger is too close to home. And if Will and Kim can’t find common ground against unseen enemies, they risk losing everything.

The Revolutionary and the Rogue by Blake Ferre - August 24th

Perrin deVesey knows pain. As a member of Crimson Rose, a secret club for men who love men, he’s taken the vow “to stand and shield.” Standing together during these perilous times is the only thing keeping their necks from the guillotine. Now their leader is using the club to rescue wrongly accused traitors. After losing a past lover to an unjust execution, the decision to support this treasonous cause is easy…until a devastatingly handsome Committee Officer complicates Perrin’s whole world. Officer Henri Chevalier hates aristocrats. But the man he finds while investigating Crimson Rose is more than just wealthy and fancily clothed. He’s a rogue that could take him to the heart of the uprising and stop it before it starts. His plan to get close to Perrin and steal his secrets backfires, though, when Henri finds himself falling for the damned aristo and his dangerous smile. His heart is even more conflicted as he learns the truth behind their cause…and the truth his own people have been hiding. Together they must make the choice—to stand and shield at any cost—and their love might be the deadliest weapon in all of France.

Healing Lance by MD Grimm (A Warrior’s Redemption #1)- July 28th

A baby’s laughter. A mind uncaged. Lance is known as Scourge, the warrior in the black armor, the dog of the warlord Ulfr Blackwolf. He was just a boy when Ulfr found him and molded him into the perfect weapon. He slaughters and pillages on command, merciless and numb, devoid of emotions. Then a baby girl laughs at him during a raid. And everything changes. When Gust, a talented healer, is out deer hunting and stumbles across a magnificent horse bearing a mortally wounded rider, he has no idea that his life is about to change forever. Gust applies all his skills to his patient, determined to save the rider’s life, and is rewarded when the man opens his eyes. As friendship, and more, bloom between warrior and healer, so does the danger over the horizon. Ulfr has not forgotten, and Lance must take his first steps on the long road to redemption.     

The rest of the series is either out this Summer or finishes in Sept!

Unhallowed: A Novel of Widdershins (Rath & Rune Book #1) by Jordan L Hawk - July 17th

Monsters. Murder. Librarians. Librarian Sebastian Rath is the only one who believes his friend Kelly O’Neil disappeared due to foul play. But without any clues or outside assistance, there’s nothing he can do to prove it. When bookbinder Vesper Rune is hired to fill the vacancy left by O’Neil, he receives an ominous letter warning him to leave. After he saves Sebastian from a pair of threatening men, the two decide to join forces and get to the truth about what happened to O’Neil. But Vesper is hiding secrets of his own, ones he doesn’t dare let anyone learn. Secrets that grow ever more dangerous as his desire for Sebastian deepens. Because Kelly O’Neil was murdered. And if Sebastian and Ves don’t act quickly enough, they’ll be the next to die.

My Heart’s in the Highlands by Amy Hoff - July 17th - sapphic - time travel

The year is 1888. Brilliant and beautiful, Lady Jane Crichton has fought the constraints of her Victorian Edinburgh upbringing to become one of the first women to attend university for medicine. Denied a degree because of her gender, she decides to marry a closeted gay man, providing him with political and social cover and herself with the time and money to pursue her scientific interests—one of which is a time machine. Jane’s machine works…but not exactly as she expected, and soon she has crash-landed in the 13th-century Scottish Highlands. There she is rescued by a wild, red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, next in line to the chiefship of the great Clan Donald, the rulers of the Sea Kingdom of the Isles. Despite the constant threat of attacks from enemy clans, harsh winters and a touch of homesickness, Jane finds herself bewitched by this land, this time and this magnificent woman. The rough and warlike Ainslie also feels the magic and revels in a passion and love neither she nor Jane had ever imagined. But Jane is hiding a dangerous secret—one that threatens to tragically transform their Highland fairy tale.

Kinship and Kindness by Kara Jorgensen (A Paranormal Society Romance #1) - releases July 29th -trans MC

Bennett Reynard needs one thing: to speak to the Rougarou about starting a union for shifters in New York City before the delegation arrives. When his dirigible finally lands in Louisiana, he finds the Rougarou is gone and in his stead is his handsome son, Theo, who seems to care for everyone but himself. Hoping he can still petition the Rougarou, Bennett stays only to find he is growing dangerously close to Theo Bisclavret. Theo Bisclavret thought he had finally come to terms with never being able to take his father’s place as the Rougarou, but with his father stuck in England and a delegation of werewolves arriving in town, Theo’s quiet life is thrown into chaos as he and his sister take over his duties. Assuming his father’s place has salted old wounds, but when a stranger arrives offering to help, Theo knows he can’t say no, even if Mr. Reynard makes him long for things he had sworn off years ago. As rivals arrive to challenge Theo for power and destroy the life Bennett has built, they know they must face their greatest fears or risk losing all they have fought for. With secrets threatening to topple their worlds, can Theo and Bennett let down their walls before it’s too late?

More under the cut...!!!!

My Highland Laird: Sci-Regency Book #5 by JL Langley - releases August 10th

Bannon Thompson, talented artist and youngest son of the Duke of Eversleigh, is hastily shipped off after his latest indiscretion. After crashing on rural Skye, leaving him and his valet the sole survivors of a diplomatic mission, Bannon must navigate the complexities of a primitive clan society and take up a role he never wanted: helping a sexy Highlander ensure the safety of both their planets.

Laird Ciaran MacKay wants nothing more than to keep his clan safe from the off-world intruders who killed his father. Suspecting complicity among his own people, he has no choice but to trust outsiders from a spaceship crash—and he can’t seem to fight his attraction to the stubborn redhead. Drawn to the handsome laird, Bannon risks a bold affair. But there is more at stake than reputations as they find two lost Regelens and uncover the Intergalactic Navy’s plot.

Artful Deception by Jackson Marsh (The Clearwater Myseries Book #5)

“Deception. The lie that tells the truth."

A damaged painting tempts Lord Clearwater to a final battle with his arch-enemy, and it's not a summons he can ignore.

Archer must free his homicidal brother from incarceration and reinstate him to the title. He will be left humiliated and penniless, but free to live his life with Silas with no threat of exposure. The alternative is death.

Drawing inspiration from a work of art, Clearwater manipulates a series of illusions to stay one step ahead of the endgame. While James, Tom and Silas race to solve clues and reach Archer before the fatal deadline, the assassin, Dorjan, remains hot on his heels ready to kill.

The sixth book in The Clearwater Mysteries series brings back popular characters from previous adventures in a fast-paced, twisting mystery that can have only one of two possible endings.

Or perhaps one of three. After all, deception is the lie that tells the truth.

Ten or Fifteen Miles by BL Maxwell - May 27th

Tim Latham had only been riding for the Pony Express for a week before he has to show the new guy the trail. Being raised on a farm in the Sacramento area, the Pony Express gave him an opportunity to see more of the country beyond his family’s little plot of land. He loves everything about the job: the adventure, the scenery, and the speed. Racing the wind on the back of a horse was as close to perfect as he could imagine.

Jeremiah Rollins grew up in San Francisco under the shadow of his father's successful shipping business. But Jeremiah craves the adventure he reads about in the dime novels he can’t get enough of. On a whim, and despite his father’s disapproval, he signs up for the Pony Express and leaves his old life behind for the steep, rocky trails that cross the Sierra Nevada. Both men are excited to begin their journey on their first ride together to Nevada Territory. They set out, making their way from station to station, racing as fast as their horses can carry them, and their friendship grows every mile. They both wanted adventure, but they may end up getting more than they dreamed of. Every ten or fifteen miles brings new experiences, and new feelings that grow with each mile they pass. 

People Like Us by Ruby Moone (Winsford Green #2) - July 21st

Arthur Fitch clawed his way out of the violence and poverty of the slums of London to become a valet to the aristocracy. His ambition to secure a higher position led him to a disastrous appointment with a cold, brutal man, and when things come to a head, Arthur is forced to flee into a snowstorm to find safety. Joseph Wilkinson is the Winsford Green blacksmith. He has a good life, good friends, owns a thriving business, but at the end of the day when he goes home, loneliness consumes him. When he stumbles upon a small man determinedly trudging through the snowstorm, he invites him into his home to shelter. Arthur Fitch is older, smart-mouthed, and as prickly as hell. But, as Joe peels back the layers, he discovers a warm, funny, vulnerable man whose tastes in the bedchamber leave Joe gasping and desperate for more. Trouble is, having found the real Arthur Fitch, how can he convince him that life in a small town can be infinitely better than working for an Earl? That love really is possible for people like them? Particularly when Arthur’s past catches up with him in horrifying fashion.

Seaworthy bu KL Noone (Character Bleed Book #1) - August 1st - bisexual MC - contemporary, but with a lot of historical touches

An epic motion picture! A gay Napoleonic War love story! Ballrooms and battles at sea! Romantic happy endings on the silver screen! And a film that’ll change everything for its stars ... Jason Mirelli can’t play adrenaline-fueled action heroes forever. He’s getting older, plus the action star parts have grown a little thinner since he came out as bisexual. This role could finally let him be seen as a serious dramatic actor, and he needs it to go well -- for his career, and because he’s fallen in love with the story and the chance to tell it. The first problem? He’ll be playing a ship’s captain ... and he hasn’t exactly mentioned his fear of water. The second problem? His co-star: award-winning, overly talkative, annoyingly adorable -- and openly gay – box office idol Colby Kent. Colby’s always loved the novel this film’s based on, and he leapt at the chance to adapt it, now that he has the money and reputation to make it happen. But scars and secrets from his past make filming a love story difficult ... until Jason takes his hand and wakes up all his buried desires. Jason could be everything Colby’s ever wanted: generous and kind, a fantastic partner on set, not to mention those heroic muscles. But Colby just can’t take that chance ... or can he? As their characters fall in love and fight a war, Colby and Jason find themselves falling, too ... and facing the return of their own past demons. But together they just might win ... and write their own love story.

The Engineer (Magic & Steam Book #1) by CS Poe - May 28th

1881—Special Agent Gillian Hamilton is a magic caster with the Federal Bureau of Magic and Steam. He’s sent to Shallow Grave, Arizona, to arrest a madman engineer known as Tinkerer, who’s responsible for blowing up half of Baltimore. Gillian has handled some of the worst criminals in the Bureau’s history, so this assignment shouldn’t be a problem. But even he’s taken aback by a run-in with the country’s most infamous outlaw, Gunner the Deadly. Gunner is also stalking Shallow Grave in search of Tinkerer, who will stop at nothing to take control of the town’s silver mines. Neither Gillian nor Gunner are willing to let Tinkerer hurt more innocent people, so they agree to a very temporary partnership. If facing illegal magic, Gatling gun contraptions, and a wild engineer in America’s frontier wasn’t enough trouble for a city boy, Gillian must also come to terms with the reality that he’s rather fond of his partner. But even if they live through this adventure, Gillian fears there’s no chance for love between a special agent and outlaw. Based on the short story, “Gunner the Deadly.” Entirely revised, newly expanded, and Book One in the exciting new steampunk series, Magic & Steam.

Pirate’s Promise (Pirate’s of Port Royal Book #1) by Jules Radcliffe - May 12th - the rest of the series is also out this Summer!

Press-ganged as a boy, Job Wright must learn how to live as a free man.

For years Job has been a captive, treated as a servant—and sometimes more—by a crooked merchant crew. Until the day his ship is attacked by pirates. English pirates, no less, and Brethren of the Coast, a brotherhood of free men who owe allegiance to no one but themselves. Job thinks he's been rescued at last, but he's badly mistaken. As an Englishman aboard a Spanish ship, the Brethren believe he's a traitor and an enemy. But just when pirate justice is about to be delivered, Garrett Dubh intervenes. He both saves Job's life and recruits him to the pirate ship Audacious.

Surrounded by a fearsome crew, Job finds protection under Garrett's wing. He's ready to do anything for the handsome pirate—things he'd never willingly do for another man. But Garrett ignores Job's shy overtures. He believes Job is too traumatised by his past. Too young to know what he wants. And nothing Job says will change his mind.

To show Garrett he can take care of himself, Job leaves the safety of the Audacious. He joins the most ruthless Brethren crew in the Caribbean, led by the enigmatic and cruel Rusé.

But in the French pirate haven of Tortuga, thoughtless actions can have fatal consequences, something Job is about to discover. And this time, Garrett isn't there to save him.

Chasing a Legacy by D. A Ravenscroft - May 2020

Against the tense political backdrop of the Second French Empire, siblings Camille and Marianne find themselves wrestling with personal demons both past and present. As Camille strives to keep family secrets buried and unveil a plot against them, Marianne becomes involved with the handsome Baron Auclair and his mysterious younger sister. Little do the siblings know that soon their very different lives will come crashing together…

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The sequel to a sequel! In this follow up to the unofficial Les Mis sequel ‘Chasing a Ghost’, we follow Enjolras and Grantaire’s children, Camille and Marianne, through dangers untold and family strife. Set in 1866, towards the end of the Second Empire, this story has murder, mystery, romance, drama, comedy, and a pet lion. And yes, it’s very, very queer.

https://www.lulu.com/en/gb/shop/d-a-ravenscroft/chasing-a-legacy/paperback/product-y58wrq.html

Two Rogues Make a Right by Cat Sebastian (Seducing the Sedgwicks Book #3) - June 23rd

Will Sedgwick can’t believe that after months of searching for his oldest friend, Martin Easterbrook is found hiding in an attic like a gothic nightmare. Intent on nursing Martin back to health, Will kindly kidnaps him and takes him to the countryside to recover, well away from the world. Martin doesn’t much care where he is or even how he got there. He’s much more concerned that the man he’s loved his entire life is currently waiting on him hand and foot, feeding him soup and making him tea. Martin knows he’s a lost cause, one he doesn’t want Will to waste his life on. As a lifetime of love transforms into a tender passion both men always desired but neither expected, can they envision a life free from the restrictions of the past, a life with each other?

Best Laid Plaids by Ella Stainton (Kilty Pleasures #1)- August 31st

In 1920s Scotland, even ghosts wear plaid.

Welcome to a sexy, spooky new paranormal historical series from debut author Ella Stainton.

Scotland, 1928

Dr. Ainsley Graham is cultivating a reputation as an eccentric.

Two years ago, he catastrophically ended his academic career by publicly claiming to talk to ghosts. When Joachim Cockburn, a WWI veteran studying the power of delusional thinking, arrives at his door, Ainsley quickly catalogues him as yet another tiresome Englishman determined to mock his life’s work.

But Joachim is tenacious and openhearted, and Ainsley’s intrigued despite himself. He agrees to motor his handsome new friend around to Scotland’s most unmistakable hauntings. If he can convince Joachim, Ainsley might be able to win back his good name and then some. He knows he’s not crazy—he just needs someone else to know it, too.

Joachim is one thesis away from realizing his dream of becoming a psychology professor, and he’s not going to let anyone stop him, not even an enchanting ginger with a penchant for tartan and lewd jokes. But as the two travel across Scotland’s lovely—and definitely, definitely haunted—landscape, Joachim’s resolve starts to melt. And he’s beginning to think that an empty teaching post without the charming Dr. Graham would make a very poor consolation prize indeed…

The Gentleman’s Thief by Isobel Starling (Resurrectionist Book #2)

Tuesday 28th December 1897. Mr. Benedict Hannan, the owner of Hannan’s Auction House in Fitzrovia, London, receives an unexpected visitor at his Bloomsbury home. The man on his stoop sends Benedict’s heart into a flutter, and on inviting the mysterious stranger into his house, he is inviting mystery, adventure, and volcanic desire.

Sebastian Cavell—master thief, gives the impression he has sought out Benedict for the sake of business, but the kind of business Sebastian has in mind has nothing to do with making money!

Cavell has been tasked with finding the whereabouts of a missing German aristocrat. With Benedict’s society connections, Sebastian gains access to his Gentleman’s Club and to men whose behavior is not so gentlemanly!

Benedict is pulled into the circle of a dangerous secret society and he not only learns the truth about the mysterious Sebastian Cavell, but learns the truth about himself and all he truly desires.

The Curse of the Mummy’s Heart by Julia Talbot - June 30th

Something is rising in the desert sand, and between two adventurous men.

Famous 1920s Hollywood actor Douglas Fitzhugh and his brother Donnie are headed for Egypt on a classic monster movie quest. Their mysterious benefactor, a man they call Grant, has sent them to find a stranded archaeologist, and all they have to go on is a handwritten journal. That's just the kind of adventure Douglas loves, and he never passes up the chance to get away from his studio-driven life.

Charles Angeloff is also on his way to Egypt with a special object his father has asked him to return to the tomb he ripped it from. Charles is just out of university, and when he meets Douglas, he falls hard for Douglas' charm and his worldly ways.

As they travel, more men of adventure join them: a cowboy, a rich seminary student, and a librarian. When they're all together, it's like magic happens, and the men all realize they're on a mission to stop the horror that stirs beneath the desert sands, even as that creature sets its sights on Charles. Will Douglas and Charles lose each other just when they've found what they both think is the man they want to be with forever?

Starcrossed: A Paranormal Historical Romance (Magic in Manhattan #2) by Allie Therin - May 18th

When everything they’ve built is threatened, only their bond remains… 1925 New York Psychometric Rory Brodigan’s life hasn’t been the same since the day he met Arthur Kenzie. Arthur’s continued quest to contain supernatural relics that pose a threat to the world has captured Rory’s imagination—and his heart. But Arthur’s upper-class upbringing still leaves Rory worried that he’ll never measure up, especially when Arthur’s aristocratic ex arrives in New York. For Arthur, there’s only Rory. But keeping the man he’s fallen for safe is another matter altogether. When a group of ruthless paranormals throw the city into chaos, the two men’s strained relationship leaves Rory vulnerable to a monster from Arthur’s past. With dark forces determined to tear them apart, Rory and Arthur will have to draw on every last bit of magic up their sleeves. And in the end, it’s the connection they’ve formed without magic that will be tested like never before.

Another Chance For Love by Ellie Thomas - July 4th

Former British Army Lieutenant Adam Merryweather survived the Western Front of WWI and has slowly recovered from his injuries. But can he heal from a broken heart? Torn between family duty and personal happiness, he sacrificed his love for Alf and has never ceased to regret it in the two years since the war ended. Adam is slowly putting his empty life back together, working for the family firm in the city centre of Bristol and trying to stop his mother’s meddling to find him the perfect socially acceptable bride. When he happens to meet Alf out of the blue, Adam is determined to try again. But convincing Alf to give him another chance may be too much to hope for. Can a chance meeting bring them back together? Or has Adam lost another chance for love forever?    

The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows by Olivia Waite - July 28th - sapphic

When Agatha Griffin finds a colony of bees in her warehouse, it’s the not-so-perfect ending to a not-so-perfect week. Busy trying to keep her printing business afloat amidst rising taxes and the suppression of radical printers like her son, the last thing the widow wants is to be the victim of a thousand bees. But when a beautiful beekeeper arrives to take care of the pests, Agatha may be in danger of being stung by something far more dangerous…

Penelope Flood exists between two worlds in her small seaside town, the society of rich landowners and the tradesfolk.  Soon, tensions boil over when the formerly exiled Queen arrives on England’s shores—and when Penelope’s long-absent husband returns to Melliton, she once again finds herself torn, between her burgeoning love for Agatha and her loyalty to the man who once gave her refuge.

As Penelope finally discovers her true place, Agatha must learn to accept the changing world in front of her. But will these longing hearts settle for a safe but stale existence or will they learn to fight for the future they most desire?

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*If more come to my attention after this is posted, they will be added!!!