#(is it BECAUSE they are toothpicks that he can move so fast??)

[fisheito]

now that i've seen the DIK fight island obstacle course and how it's. a course. not just them swimming all day makes me wonder who would do best at running through sand. bc you gotta have a technique. or a certain kinda muscle built up. sand is difficult terrain but by pitting garu-dante-quin against each other... hmmm... that's tricky bc they ARE pretty evenly matched. a trio of athletic little lads

[darlingchronicles]

JJ AND THE GOLDEN GIRL HEADCANONS III

pairing: jj x fem!goodgirl!reader

word count: 2.4k

based on these concepts and season 4, ep 1. spoilers enjoy!

Poguelandia: how do they start their simple life with the gang?

ఌ so golden girl does join the crew with all the treasure hunting starting season two i believe, (i have a whole universe so there will be more on their adventures and even fics so stay tuned) but let's fast forward to the beginning of season four (no major or relevant spoilers). she is on board with starting a business and was the one to suggest they sell food on top of providing for the fishing folks. she is not happy when jj decides to go on a limb and buy the property for wayyyy too much, but it is what it is. She doesn't help much with the building since she doesn't really like it and she almost hit her finger with a hammer one time, but she is big with decorating. she found the huge shark and helped haul it towards the business. she helped paint and make the entire thing a home. she's never had a true home so when they finish she straight up cries from how happy she is there. she works the counter and restocks the entire store and has her own little side business. again, like said before, she's very crafty so she makes a bunch of bracelets and sells them at poguelandia. they're a huge hit (especially with teen girls and children) so you can often find her at the counter helping customers and making bracelets at the same time. she does take custom orders. she also has a sandwich named. it's called "flounder's revenge" (as in the previous headcanons, she's afraid of sharks) and it's a bacon, avocado sourdough melt with chipotle sauce with a little shark hook toothpick on top. needless to say, she very happy there.

✔︎ jj never had a home to rely on or even call home. of course he had his friends as his home, but actually call something a home is beautiful. when they complete poguelandia, he is estatic. he jumps for golden girl and hug like there was no tomorrow. when they start to get busy, jj always makes time for golden girl when he can. he'll help her with bracelets by grabbing whatever material he sees and he was elated when she gave him the first one she made for the business. if he's in the shop, he'll help her customers and with restocking the higher shelves. he always requests a 'founder's revenge' and chuckles every time she narrows her eyes (he's the one who gave her the nickname). jj and golden girl end their nights on the dock, watching the ocean and sky after their busy day before retiring to the room them both moved into. sarah and john b have theirs. pope and cleo have theirs. and now jj and golden girl are officially moved in together. jj is on cloud nine.

how has their relationship progressed?

ఌ golden girl is more trusting of jj. since starting the business, she learned to trust him even more. she's watched jj grow into a more responsible person, of course he has his moments where shes reminded that he's still a boy at heart, but he's growing and it makes her happy. with more trust, she opens up to him more about her feeling. previously, golden girl was always so reluctant to tell jj her feelings because she was scared he would run or start an argument, but jj doesn't. he listens. maybe he won't always agree or see the "big deal" but he takes into account her feelings and notices her telling him more.

✔︎ jj has become much more softer with his girl after they start up the business. they're family now. they all know it. she's best friends with his best friends and they're totally in love with each other. not only that, but he says "i love you" more often now. previously, it was only for special occasions and the odd moment and whenever golden girl said it outside of those moment, he would only just kiss her in order to convey his feelings. he was never good with words, but now, he wants to say it all the time. there is so much more security since they're not running anymore. so "i love you" is a staple now. it was such a dramatic shift that john b did a double take when jj said it before he left to go get more bait for a second and came back a minute later.

how much do they argue?

ఌ here's the thing with golden girl. she hates arguments. not for the same reason as jj, but because she hates when there's no peace. she despises it. she tends to cry whenever she's frustrated and can't sleep if it's a prolonged one. she has a deep sense of guilt as if everything is her fault. which it isn't but she has that. previously, jj and her got into disagreements and arguments due to their lack of communication. she has a lot of words she afraid to say and jj isn't good with words and tends to keep them to himself. if they do argue, it's because golden girl doesn't want to say what's on her mind and jj's just trying to help. they never go to bed angry though. they never sleep in separate rooms either. neither of them can bare it. sometimes she'd cop up and just let it go but then jj can't let it go and vice versa.

✔︎ jj hates arguments because before, arguments meant violence. it meant breaking things and tear up a storm to be heard. as said, jj isn't good with words and if he can't say them, it becomes an issue. jj hates it when golden girl doesn't say anything when something is clearly bothering her. he hates that he wants to force it out of her. so previously, they did have a lot of icing out periods due to the lack of communication. now, they're more open to each other. jj once said he doesn't call them fights, but instead, disagreements. they disagree. they don't fight. he'd never be able to fight her. sometimes he'll try and let it go, but when he can't, he'll tell her. and she won't be mad. she won't yell. she won't hit. she listens. it's more than enough for him.

how have they had progressed physically? (slightly NSFW)

ఌ it is a fun one. golden girl hadn't let them cross that line for the longest time. the only thing they've really done is make out and dry hump each other. nothing more. it isn't until they have poguelandia and have more stability that she allow them to take it further. she was surprised that jj didn't mind it (we'll get to that in a bit) and that was what made her take that step. it was kind of nerve racking for her because it would be her first time and she knew jj had experience and so did all their friends (john and sarah, specifically) so she was sneaky with her little innuendos because she didn't want to say it out loud. she'd let him put his hand in her back pocket and whenever they hugged, she'd place a kiss on his neck. whenever they laid down, she lay her hand on his lower stomach and trail her finger up and down. she got kind of careless and would even stare at him with her little doe eyes and have that little shimmer in them. she had fuck-me eyes for days. eventually, he got the hint.

✔︎ so jj didn't know for a while. he had been patient with her because he knew he couldn't fuck their relationship up. he understood she had no experience whatsoever with sex or anything of the sorts. he didn't mind because he knew that forcing sex or sex in general ruined a lot of relationships. also at the beginning of their relationship, jj was really uncertain about her really liking him and thought she'd walk away eventually. to ensure the blow was less of an impact if it happened (it didn't, of course) he kept himself from suggesting they sleep together. of course, he did like making out with her and dry humping was really getting to him, but he respected her wishes. honestly, they went so long with doing anything, he was prepared to wait for marriage if she wanted to (marriage was addressed in the previous headcanons). but when golden girl was much more touchy and carefree with her kisses, he got suspicious. the first time she kissed his neck unwarranted during a hug, he froze. he coughed and pressed one to her head before walking away before a boner began to form. there was so other signs, but it was her eyes that gave him the hint. the way she'd look at him with her mouth slightly parted was when he finally gor the hint.

☆ extra! they finally did "it" one night when they we alone at the house. Everyone but them had gone and crashed as Heywards for the night (JJ had to catch bait and Golden Girl was busy making bracelets and doing school work that day). So the house was empty. They didn't expect it at all, but it was when they started kissing in their shared bed when a little spark was lit and the two of them were undressing before they knew it. jj had stopped to ask if everything was okay and she nodded, giving him approval. a very slow and beautiful night for the both of them. it was raining softly outside, the lights were off and only the light was the sparks of lightning outside and the covers were soft and warm from the wash. she definitely had to wash them afterwards though. he was so gentle and caring, truly understanding that this was a passage that she was taking for the first time, and listened and watched her to ensure everything was pleasurable for her. definitely made sure she came multiple times as well. (i could go more into detail ;) but thats for another post) the next morning the glances and wandering hands gave the gang a heads up and they had shit eating smiles and poked fun at them the entire morning.

what are date nights like now?

ఌ it is much more detailed. golden girl decides on the places they go to eat and has jj try new foods he hasn't tried before. they can spurge a little more, but it's not anything huge. they just like trying new things. clearly. and she still likes the simple things. they'll go out on the new boat and swim for an afternoon before retiring to the house and playing a game of cards with their cans of coke next to them. the tradition continues.

✔︎ jj tries to make things slightly more fancy. he'll buy roses for her almost every date night. one time, he bought her a dress to wear for one of their dates because he over heard her saying to the girls that she wanted to buy new clothes with her next month's share of the profit. she was getting tired of wearing the same clothes, especially on her dates with jj. he decided to surprise her and the look on her face made it all the more worth it. he knew she didn't like tight clothes because of the kildare heat and saw it in a shop on the mainland and knew she'd like it. he definitely gets her more gifts now. he always mades "mini" dates where they'd go on break from the shop and lay in the hammock with some music playing. the simple life.

are they open to a future family together?

ఌ golden girl is one hundred percent open to starting a family together. she wants that. not now, obviously. they're too young. he just turned 20 and she was still 19 for a bit. but she knew she wanted it with him. sometimes, she'd imagine him with a baby in his hands - a girl and she'd look just like him. she'd have that little mischievous twinkle in her eyes that said she was gonna cause trouble. just like him. and gosh she wanted it. but until then, she knew she'd just grow more in love with him. and yes, she is open to marrying him. she knew she'd have to wait a bit more until then as they were not together for as long as sarah and john b, but whenever he popped the question, she'd say yes.

✔︎ jj knows he's gonna propose to her. he started saving up for a real ring. he knew sarah and john b had done their own thing, but he was gonna do her right and get a real ring and a real wedding band. he doesn't know when, but he knows that when the time is right, they'll get married. he knows the time is soon. he is kind of anxious to see what she says, but he's hopeful she'll say yes. and kids? oh yeah, he's thought about it. he's seen her with children around the island and he knows she'll be an amazing mom. he's just more anxious about turning out like his dad. he doesn't want that, but he knows he can do better. he has to be better. but sometimes he'll imagine her in a dress with a little baby bump or her carrying a little girl (he wants girls) and showing her how to fish or throw a punch and it makes him hopeful for the future. he has hope for one of the first times of his life.

☆ extra! baby names are definitely in their heads. golden girl likes the princess names or something about light or hopefulness. elena, estelle, aurora, eve, juliette, valentine or persephone. she leaned more towards persephone or juliette cause then they call her percy or jules. those are just some of them. she has a lot more and is open to suggestions. she thought a j name would be nice since she'd match with her father. jj has also thought about it in great detail. he likes lorelai, eloise, victoria, ariel, marlee, or artemis. he wants her to have a nickname like him. he is more leaning towards ariel because of the whole joke about flounder. but if they have a boy, definitely something like rex, james, apollo or atlas. in the future, they have two girls.

thedarlinglore: after the shitshow of the last ep of season 4, i needed some reminder of love and hope from these two. love them dearly. i do want to go more into dept about them so a few more headcanons, blurbs and fics are coming up along with another beautiful new reader! i have mentioned before. stay tuned and rewatch ep. 6 of season 4 because wooo that man is fine as hell. love you, darlings.

➣ my last "jj" work | "oh schroeder" ➣ more concepts | jj maybank

[uynumeotp]

Vash and Wolfwood's infomations from an interview with Nightow (Trigun's author)

Vash's Profile  Height: I haven't decided. But he's around 180 cm (5.9 ft) (5'11")

Name's origin : Stampede is a nickname/ street name. It means 'runaway cattle'.

Change in hair color: There is a reason. But I can't tell you yet.

Coat's weight: Not sure. It would be quite light so he can run and move in various ways.

Vision: Pretty good. His visual acuity is also good. Plus, his ability to make last-minute decisions in times of crisis and his reflexes to make the most out of close chances are what keep him alive. It's not like he has supernatural powers.

Living expenses: He also works as a bodyguard, etc... So I guess that's how he earns his daily money. It's stable and he doesn't use money wastefully.

How long it takes to get dressed: I haven't decided on that. Since he wears those clothes every day, wouldn't it be pretty fast?

Wolfwood's Profile

Height: Not sure. But he is a little taller than Vash. About 1 to 2 cm taller (about 1 inches).

Name's origin: It's a pun. Tortoise Matsumoto is the model, so the name came from Ulfuls. The D in his middle name stands for "ドコノクミノモン ジャワレスマキニシテシズメタロ カコラ"(Dokonokuminomon Jawaresu Makinishi Teshizu Metallo Kakora) (laughs) TL Note: I think what he meant is the "Wolf" in WW's name (ウルフウッド) came from Ulfuls (ウルフルズ) - a Japanese rock band (The aforementioned Tortoise Matsumoto is the vocalist of the band) as a reference. The middle name, D, is "Where (D)o you belong?" It is an abbreviation of "Dokono~" in English. Smoking amount per day: I don't know. Well, I was thinking he would smoke a lot. But cigarettes seem expensive, so he might be smoking with a toothpick/stick.

Clothing (light clothing): The reason for the simple clothes is because it's would be hard to draw him holding the cross otherwise. The cross alone can make him stand out.

Dialect (he speaks in the Kansai dialect in Japanese): Since they are in an English-speaking setting, he is not actually speaking the Kansai dialect. Please think of it as an accent expression.

Gun's name: Punisher. Are you punishing the enemy or yourself?

Gun's weight: I feel like it weighs over a hundred-something kgs (> 240lbs). He carries it well. He must have great balance to be able to wield/swing it.

The size of the gun: about 170 cm (5.6 ft) (5'7") on the long side?

How long it takes to rewrap the cloth after using the gun: Not sure. I guess he would have to pick up the cloth, rewrap it, and carefully fasten it with belts. In order to look cool, you have to work on the little things.

[ken-dom]

Everything Looks Better When The Sun Goes Down

Driver x afab!reader

3k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Getaways usually come with a strong dose of adrenaline. He can usually deal with it himself, but this time a far more thrilling prospect presents itself.

∘₊✧ Authors notes: I wrote this well over a month ago, and finally decided to dust it off and post, with encouragement from K, with whom the Driver conversation is never-ending and delicious! I would advise caution because he's kinda creepy in this one (compared to how I’ve written him before). Title from Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, dubious consent, masturbation, fingering, sex, glove kink, kissing kink, just a dash of sneaky, creepy, stalker-y Driver

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Driver’s leather-covered fingers tightened with a creak of resistance against the steering wheel. He might know the roads like the back of his hand, but being the getaway driver comes with the occupational hazard of not actually being able to control what your chasers will do, no matter how clever and thorough your plan.

Even if you’ve seen every trick in the book. Even if you have something of a sixth sense for predicting their movements.

Surprises can’t always be avoided, and tonight he was doing his best to get out of a surprise.

This had been just a touch more complicated to plot than his usual getaway routine. Locations hadn’t been quite as simple to pin down so timings would be off and he couldn’t have that. The only alternative was to alter his default plan of action only very slightly, yet the risks, apparently, tripled.

Or maybe Driver had just been unlucky.

He had kicked out the two masked men he had been hired to drive, easily getting rid of them en route as part of the plan, sticking to time down to the second, and then embarking on the more unusual part two, which simply required Driver to get himself away and hide the car somewhere different to where he’d hidden them. The route was meticulously added to his map, the hiding spots checked, double and triple checked, ahead of time.

Yet, despite the police radio suggesting they’d lost sight of tonight’s unassuming car of choice, the cops had picked back up, hot on Driver’s trail the moment he pulled back out onto the main streets.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at first. He knew what he was doing, after all; this wasn’t his first car chase by a long stretch. If he wanted to ‘wing it,’ he could. Easily. But he would never. He would simply go about the bulletproof backup plan designed for the event that this unlikely situation would come to fruition. All was fine.

Except that he really couldn’t seem to shake them. Every move he made, it was as though they’d read his mind and were one step ahead. It wouldn’t have been possible, but it was as if they somehow seen his detailed maps. They were only for his eyes though, and if anyone ever did see them… well. He would have to make it so that they remained only for his eyes.

Whatever was going on here, it seemed almost like someone was out to get him personally. His jaw clenched at the thought and his heart began to slam against his chest, breathing fast and ragged.

He tried to refocus. On the road, on the soft interior of his jacket against his arms. On the toothpick almost chewed in two between his teeth.

There were limited options at this point, and he was running out of ideas, running out of streets to slip down before they could predict his next action.

Driver firmly reminded himself to stick to the facts and ignore his physical response. He was still ahead. Just. 

Actually, he was nearing your house. Oh…

No.

He shouldn’t distract himself, but it was hard not to notice that he’d pulled onto your street almost by muscle memory alone and he wondered if you’d see him, followed by that one police car that he was sure would soon be two, then three, sirens blazing.

It was darker down here. Residential, with parked cars dotted up and down the road, canopied with large leafy trees that blocked out the moonlight, too. So he killed his headlights and slowed down to avoid attracting any additional unwanted attention.

His ears pricked up as the discussion on the radio started up again in place of relaying the names of the streets they were chasing him down; they’d lost him again.

Just like last time they lost him. But they had found him as soon as he resurfaced, and he couldn’t sit out here on your street all night in plain view, no matter how unsuspecting the car may look to your neighbours.

A little blue Honda rattled by and he flinched.

Come on. Get a grip, he scolded himself.

His head began to pound.

He needed to find somewhere new to hide the car properly, and hide himself while he was at it. Fast. Somewhere he could stay for long enough that they’d really give up this time.

Another thought struck him and he blinked hard. He had to regain some self control. But your house was approaching on the right.

He couldn’t. Could he? 

His eyes scanned the street. There were no other Hondas. No other moving vehicles. He couldn’t see anyone peering out of their windows into the dark street. 

Then he found the end of your driveway, visible in the near distance. Your garage door was up. No car. You were out. Perfect.

No. He couldn’t.

Fuck. He was going to have to. 

Besides, if anything did come of this, he could keep you safe. He was sure of that. No harm would ever come to you on his watch. Ever.

He slowly pulled onto your driveway and rolled the car to a gentle stop inside the garage, winding down the driver side window to punch the button on the wall that controlled the garage door. With a low hum and a light clicking, it swung down and locked into place with a soft clunk.

Complete darkness. The purr of the engine. And then, the crackle of the police radio.

Driver tensed, every bit of focus honed in on the voices coming through the small device.

With a note of three identifiable items: the car colour, model and number plate (two of which could easily be altered), and a reminder of where it was last seen (the next street along from this one), they’d officially given up the chase.

He relaxed into his seat, slumping down and stretching his long legs as far as they could lengthen in the confinement of the footwell, spreading his knees and dropping his head back against the headrest.

He would need to stay here for now, but that was manageable.

He killed the engine, trying to force his breath even and steady himself before he got out. 

Although it had been tough, now it was over, he couldn’t deny that it had been exciting. There was rarely a time it wasn’t.

He felt a stirring in his core, the familiar thrill that ran through his trembling body every time he got away, high on adrenaline and filled with self satisfaction.

And he did get away. Every time. But this time? It had been a closer call than any he could remember and he was shaking, excitement coursing through his veins, sending all his blood south to throb between his spread thighs.

He chuckled, smirking and dropping his hands to his lap from where they were still bracing, tight storing the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat as one palm slowly teased higher up his thigh.

It was becoming painful to sit here in these too-tight jeans, the denim rough against his leaking cock, and he hissed as he dragged his palm over the thrumming bulge that had formed inside them the moment he knew he was safe.

He felt a particularly thick drop of precum leak from his tip, gasping at the short lived relief his wandering hand had provided, gloved fingers now flying to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans and free his aching length, all patience out the window. It didn’t matter how long it took. He just needed the release.

But as the first button popped undone, his ears pricked up at the unmistakable sound of tires rolling onto your driveway behind that garage door. He froze, heart racing, cock twitching, every sense heightened almost painfully.

He relaxed when he heard your car door slam shut, the sound of your shoes on the gravel. He’d know those sounds anywhere. He knew all the sounds you made – he’d studied you enough – and had an entire catalogue of them stored away safely in the back of his mind.

Hastily, he reached for the radio and flipped the switch back on. Nothing. Nothing about him, anyway. Nothing about you. You were safe even with him locked away inside your garage.

He heard your keys jingling against the lock of your front door, knowing you were inside once it had clicked shut and the jingle was muffled.

He breathed a long, shaky sigh of relief.

Seconds later, his personal cell buzzed from inside his jacket pocket.

One hand resting still against the denim covering his aching hard on, he fished his phone out and unlocked it, absentmindedly rubbing his fingertips over his length and whimpering when he saw your name on the screen above the message you’d sent.

‘Hey, babe… you up?’

Another thick pearl of precum.

Fuck. He could hide in here all night, sexting with you from just the next room, or…

He didn’t bother fastening up his belt or that one button he’d opened when he swung the car door open and jumped out, biting back a moan at the friction of his jeans settling, slightly looser and more comfortable, against his cock as he stood.

He knew where you kept your spare key, and the combination on the safety box that kept it hidden, so he retrieved it and let himself in through the internal garage door that led to your kitchen.

Driver was silent. Barely a sound as he crept through the house, knowing every floorboard and the placement of every piece of furniture down to the millimetre.

The house was dark, which made it easy for him. You’d only switched on one lamp since you returned; the one in the hallway where you still stood, hanging up your jacket and waiting for him to reply.

Your phone laid unlocked on the sideboard, opened to the message you’d sent him as you slipped off your shoes, eagerly awaiting his reply. 

‘Come on,’ you breathed needily at your screen, ‘start typing!’ — and Driver swallowed hard.

He stuck to the shadows as he watched you, from the kitchen doorway, careful not to let his breathing turn too heavy, and certainly not above stroking himself over his jeans a couple of times just for the thrill of it.

You threw your shoes in the cupboard and picked up your phone again, checking to see if he was typing yet, and upon seeing that he wasn’t even online right now, you heaved a disappointed breath.

He might not have typed a reply, but he was ready to answer you.

‘I’m up,’ he breathed, hot against the back of your neck and you jumped, but his arms wrapped tight around yours, keeping you from fighting back, and he pulled you close as he breathed you in.

The still-gloved fingers of one of his hands hand toyed with the neckline of your shirt, ghosting around your throat as the other thrust unceremoniously into your jeans and dragged through your folds.

Even with his gloves on, he could tell you were already soaked.

It took you a terrifying moment, but your instinctual fear subsided, quickly replaced with burning arousal when you felt his cock pressing into your back, smelled his familiar scent, felt his glove teasing at your throat.

‘You are up,’ you sighed, reaching behind yourself to snake a hand between your flush bodies and drag your palm over his length in time with the fingers so precisely massaging your clit, and you moaned. Loud.

Driver’s knees felt like they might give out.

‘Mmmh-’ he hummed into your ear, ‘s-stop- fuck-’

You grinned, smug as ever about how easy he was to unravel, and at the wet patch you’d felt seeping through his thick jeans.

Despite the heat rapidly pooling at your core, you didn’t think on it for long, because any coherent thought was immediately pushed out of your mind when his hands left your core and throat, instead gripping your shoulders and spinning you to face him, slamming you back against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with bruising force.

He pushed a thigh between your legs, pressing firmly against your heat and you moaned, muffled by his mouth as his tongue dragged hungrily against yours. Driver was always such a needy kisser, so passionate and intense and it made your head spin. But this was something else. 

You gripped him hard, moaning and writhing against him, and he shuddered at your reaction, whining against your lips before fully pulling away to focus on freeing his cock.

Slightly dizzy, you removed your own trousers as fast as you could, hooking a leg around his waist as he shoved his wet jeans down and pushed forward, lifting you in his strong arms to help you clamp your other leg around his waist.

His eyes slid closed as he felt your slick against his cock, trying with all his might not to spill his release before he’d fucked you. The adrenaline was still so fresh, spurred on by breaking in and sneaking up on you, that he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He felt almost invincible; but he knew that with just one eager and misguided move he would cum, ending it all too soon.

No. He needed to feel you around him. Feel you clench with need. Hear you scream. Fill you up.

He closed his eyes to refocus.

Now you were pinned between him and the wall, he slipped a hand down to guide himself to your entrance, a simultaneous relieved groan from both of you echoing around your entrance hall as he slid himself inside.

He stilled for a moment, composing himself, forehead pressed to yours because he knew that a kiss, even a soft and tender exchange, would break him.

He also knew that right now, one thrust and it would be over for him, so he moved his fingers up, massaging your clit in slow, precise circles, as though this was all designed purely to give you time to adjust.

Your head dropped back and you squirmed, trying to fuck yourself on him as his fingers sent wave after wave of shuddering bliss through your body. The angle was delicious, but balanced around his waist you couldn’t move enough to get what you needed.

‘Please,’ you begged, ‘fuck me- please-’

Driver growled, low and dark, against your throat. He could never resist giving you exactly what you wanted, and he could feel your walls tightening around him already. A low groan tore from his throat. You were close too. 

Sicko, he thought. Like it when I break in and sneak up behind you? Shove a hand in your pants to try and get you off before you even realise it’s me?

Keeping his fingers against your throbbing bundle of nerves, he fucked you alright. Hard and fast and unrelenting, hips snapping frantically as he whimpered and gasped weakly into the thick air filling the inch between your mouths.

It was too late to stop his orgasm approaching. He’d been simmering for too long, and the way you’d kissed him, the way you’d begged him, the way you got wet just from him acting like a creep… his head was spinning.

The way he was fucking you, unceasing and intense, had you clawing at his jacket, wishing he’d taken it off so you could feel more of him, but there was no time. You pushed your fingers up to slide through his soft, neat hair instead, and he shuddered against you, biting down on his bottom lip. His blood boiled.

Fuck it. He smashed his lips back onto yours, tears pricking his eyes.

He finally spilled inside you, cock pulsing through his release. He squeezed his eyes shut, painfully aware you hadn’t cum yet, but his fingers on your clit hadn’t ceased, and as his cock began to soften, sensitive with aftershocks, he felt you clench tight around him. Your fingertips scraped against his scalp and your legs tightened around his waist and you cried out, loud and strangled, bucking your hips wildly as you chased your release.

Driver’s eyes welled with the tears he couldn’t bite back, dropping onto your shirt.

As you came down from your high, you stroked his hair back into place and slipped down from your position, standing on wobbly legs, head spinning, and Driver propped himself up with an arm against the wall, caging you in.

Your palm grazed his cheek, a tender thumb wiping his tears away.

He leant into your touch, eyes closed and breath slowing all the while.

‘So it was you who closed my garage door?’ you whispered, and he nodded against your palm. ‘Naughty boy,’ you added, teasing.

He looked up at you through the most stunning, sparkling, wet eyes and you knew you’d never stay mad for long – especially not when he fucked you so good and unravelled for you so easily.

‘Been on a job, baby?’ you cooed.

He nodded against your palm again.

‘Gonna jerk off in my garage until I arrived home and ruined the moment?’

Driver stiffened, eyes wide as he considered you, awed at the way you understood how his mind worked. Against his better judgement, he nodded, slowly.

‘Filthy boy,’ you added with a playful smirk. ‘Glad you found me instead, though.’

‘Yeah?’ he managed, weak and quiet, voice cracking.

‘Yeah. I fucking love it when you try so hard not to cum right away.’

His brow furrowed, but you hooked your fingers under his chin and lifted his gaze back to you, softly pressing your lips to his once again.

He whimpered, feeling weak, but he needed this more than anything after the rush. He was crashing, fast and needed comfort. Safety.

‘Wanna get into bed and make out until we fall asleep?’

Driver’s heart skipped, and he nodded again. It wasn’t always a bad thing to feel like someone was reading his mind.

[itadore-you]

just for me

pairing: katsuki bakugo x gn!reader w/c: ~ 1k c/w + context: comfort fic. big ass panic attack. if this may trigger you, pls steer clear of this one!

════════════════════════════════════

The violet void of the night has claimed you as a victim once again. It has invisible toothpicks for nails that pry open your eyelids for inspection, declaring you blind. 

"Are you scared yet?" It rasps.

You tremble, because you already know what it'll say next.

Nothing. It won't say a word.

Its silence prompts your subconscious to speak for itself, letting the undead scream. Once they're woken, there's no shutting them up. The voices don't come alone. Like a pretty Russian doll, there's always more. Hordes of images; so much that you have seen. They blot across your vision, so viscerally colourful against the dark of night. You're certain that you will die.

All of a sudden, the dark grows hands that hold onto yours - they're smooth, they're warm, and they … aren't to be trusted when you get like this. 

Your first instinct is to slap them away. Nothing is safe in the minefield of your mind.

"It's me," murmurs a low voice from beside you. "I'm right here."

"Kats- Katsuki?" 

You sound broken. It makes him grit his teeth, knowing what's happening to you. It doesn't happen often, but it happens often enough that he knows the signs. He knows how to help, but not how to fix, and it pains him. Quickly he illuminates the room with a light spark from one of his palms, the crackle emphasizing his presence.

"Yes," he continues to slowly reassure you. "Me. Katsuki. I'm right here."

He wishes he could promise it. He wishes that he could fight alongside you. Blow it all up, leaving those nocturnal demons charred and in pieces. He knows, that even by being here right now, it's not going to stop it on its own. He's reached a limit that he can't force himself through. 

He takes in a deep breath as he holds your hands a little tighter, and he continues. 

"Squeeze my hands back."

It takes several moments for you to manage the movement. These "attacks" often leave you fucking paralysed after all. But once you grip Katsuki's hands, you keep squeezing, tighter and tighter. 

He smiles a little at that, knowing that it's somewhat broken the trance. 

"Good. You can keep going." 

He doesn't mind it, no matter how hard it hurts, because he won't let you keep feeling so hurt, all alone. He still remembers seeing your first episode, the uselessness that weighed down his heart as he watched the person he loved whilst he did nothing, he couldn’t do anything. Never again. 

Never.

You hold onto him tighter over the next couple of minutes. Slowly he offers his arms, and eventually, you accept his embrace - he knows to not constrict you fully in his arms, but instead help you feel grounded. 

It takes time before the tempo of your breathing matches his, no longer shallow and rapid. Even in the dark, you can now find the fierce red of his eyes meeting yours. He knows to hold your gaze like this, to silently reassure you that you’re going to be OK. 

He whispers a couple of words, asking if you feel like you can stand. He doesn't let go of your hand as he gets you on your feet, motivating you to move with him as he ambles over to the side of your shared bedroom. 

It's nice, not to remain curled up beneath a duvet until you sweat buckets, and you can’t tell the difference between perspiration and tears. 

Katsuki notices the vacant look in your expression as you motionlessly stand next to him. He's got to be careful now, because that break of clarity is not always the ‘calm after the storm’. Sometimes it comes right back, striking fast like a viper. 

The click of your kettle sounds and an impending crescendo ensues as the water boils. The sound is like a pleasant white noise that fills the empty air, static that your brain can't be louder than. You could swear that you kept the kettle in the kitchen, not in here. Katsuki must have brought it, as well as the cup he grabs from seemingly nowhere, and the faint aroma of chamomile starts to arise in the room. 

Another click from the kettle, alerting you both that the water has finished boiling. As Katsuki pours the stream of water into the cup, the smell of chamomile grows stronger. You notice that your lungs seem to expand double the size from before, breathing in the calming scent. 

Bakugo lifts the steaming cup to you, watching as you take deep breaths. He knows you like the smell and taste of the tea. It's something so basic, so seemingly trivial, but it works. 

Out of all your five senses, he's the one that makes the most sense. Bakugo stands before you, untainted and real - more real than what was happening inside of your mind.

He stays with you like that for a while, waiting for the tea to cool down so you can drink it. In the meantime, he talks about a couple of things. He brings up some stupid banter from the conference room yesterday; still finding it stupid, but knowing that you'd find it funny. He mentions, on the side, that he wants to buy some poppy seeds for your garden. It sounds random, but each one of Katsuki's words is chosen with care to distract you from your thoughts.

All the while, he can see a spark start to come back in your eyes. They’re no longer as dull and dead as they were before. 

He's glad.

He’s not going to ask if you feel better.

He already knows.

[booboodaddysblog]

Amanda

Warnings: smut, one night stand, unprotected sex, Julian's character portrayed based on my guesses

Words: 3926

It was late evening when Amanda sat at the bar sipping a drink. She was sighing heavily, her head resting on her hand. She was stirring a toothpick in her martini. When suddenly she heard a male voice. She turned toward him.

- Hello beautiful, have you gone astray? What brings you here? Let's find out, and then we can play as you wish. You are the one who will tell me what I can do for you. I'm open to anything - said the stranger with a smirk.

Amanda remained silent, measuring him with her eyes from top to bottom. He had dark brown eyes and perfectly styled hair. It was as dark as his eyes. He was really attractive and well built. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

She smiled slightly as the stranger looked impatient. He probably didn't like someone taking too long to answer him.

- Hey, why do you say I am beautiful? - she answered with a little smirk too.

- You have it written all over your face, darling. It's all the way radiating from you. You're the one who can make my heart speed up and bring me to my knees. Let's see where our desires will take us today - he sat on a bar stool right next to her.

Amanda again measured him with her eyes, processing his words in her head. He seemed really confident and unobjectionable. She wasn't sure if such a guy was her type.

- You’re so needy, huh? - she took a sip of her drink.

- I am and I wear it proudly. I crave your touch, your attention and your passion. With you I can forget about the rest of the world. In your arms I can lose myself and find something even more exciting. So tell me what excites you, my love - he slightly reduced the distance between them.

Amanda stepped back.

- Oh my, you’re so fast, don’t you? Why? - she raised her eyebrows in surprise.

- Because when I want something, I pursue it full throttle. And now, my desire is all-consuming. You have lit a fire in me that refuses to go out until it is fully satisfied. Now let's take advantage of this hunger and explore each other's deepest fantasies - he moved closer to her again, not letting up.

- Wow, okay? But you don’t know me - this time she did not move away.

- That maybe true, but there is something about you that calls to me. A magnetic attraction that draws me despite. Right now, I don't care if you're a stranger or not. All I know is that I want you and I won't let anything stand in our way. So let's leave the past behind and enjoy the present moment together.

Amanda was silent again, watching the stranger with considerable interest.

- I wanted to get to know you a bit before this... you know... - she was curious about what would happen next.

- I appreciate it and would like to learn more about you. But sometimes, love, spontaneity can be a reward in itself. We don't always need a road map to find enjoyment. Sometimes we just need to jump headfirst into the deep end and enjoy the ride. Are you ready to take that leap with me? - a smirk appeared on his lips again.

- But we're in a bar right now, and there's no place where we can... - she nervously grabbed her drink while taking a large sip.

He laughed quietly catching her knee, squeezing it lightly.

- Don't worry about it. Trust me, I have a private space nearby where we can indulge our desires without interruption. It's just a short walk away. Will you come with me, darling? I promise it will be worth it.

- What’s the catch?

- There is no catch, darling. This is just an opportunity to explore your wildest fantasies with me. If you are hesitant, I understand. But remember, life is short. Why not seize the moment and see where it takes us? I guarantee it will be an experience neither of us will forget.

He was so confident. Amanda began to have doubts and full of questions in her head.

- It's interesting. How many women have you had in your life?

- I've had quite a few encounters, I admit, but none have matched what I'm currently experiencing with you. Each time was different, unique. And I'm willing to bet that tonight will be no exception. Or maybe? Who knows? So tell me, are you ready to discover what we can create together? - this time he grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes.

- I would have a glass of wine first, if that's not a problem - she said, trying to free her hand from his grasp.

- No problem, at all. In fact, I happen to have a bottle of wine from old vintage waiting for us at my place. Let's finish this conversation over a glass of wine and see what the night brings. I assure you it will be an unforgettable time.

- So you want me to drink wine at your place and not here in the bar?

- Yes, exactly. My place provides the perfect conditions for our meeting. A private oasis where we can lose ourselves in each other. Let's leave this public space and go to my sanctuary - he grabbed Amanda's purse and got up from the bar stool. He was convinced that she would go with him.

She also stood up and tried to pick up her item. She didn’t succeed. He was faster.

- Well, we can try it. I'll go with you, but there's something I'm curious about. What is your name? - she looked into his eyes.

- My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I am Julian Dillinger. May we now proceed to my headquarters and begin our adventure? - he said impatiently.

Amanda stared at him slightly surprised. She had heard that name somewhere before. For sure. She was 100% sure of it. At this point, she wasn't sure if what she associated with that name was anything positive.

- Wouldn't you like to know my name? - she wanted to delay their exit from the bar as long as possible.

- It doesn't matter to me who you are. What matters is the connection we share right now. Your name, your past, do not matter at this moment. All that exists is the desire burning between us. So, let's quench that thirst together, shall we? - he grabbed her hand.

- Okay, let's go then - she surrendered to him.

- Excellent choice. Let me lead the way. Let’s stepped out of the crowded establishment and into the anticipated night. Every step brings us closer to satisfying the desires that drive us - he pulled her with him to the exit.

His pressure on her hand was gentle but firm. They walked slowly in silence. Amanda felt Julian lightly stroke the top of her hand with his thumb. It was a pleasant feeling. She didn't know him one bit, but she was beginning to feel that he could be a really interesting man in her, so far, boring corporate life. As if a break from her work.

She was so thoughtful that she didn't realize they were already there. They stood in front of the door to a building that seemed endless when one looked up. She slightly parted her lips in surprise. She could not contain her awe at what she had just seen.

- We are there - Julian declared, entering her thoughts.

- Well, I can't wait to taste this wine, which you claim is perfect - she cleared her throat pretending to be calm, although it was quite the opposite.

- I assure you that my selection will not disappoint. Each bottle represents years of careful selection. But more importantly, sharing them with you will make it a truly unforgettable experience. As we sip the selected vintage, let's discover each other's desires and unleash our deepest fantasies. Together we will create memories that will last a lifetime - he opened the door for her, bowing slightly, signalling her to move on - Ladies first.

- I hope it won't be just one night - she whispered to herself as she passed him in the doorway.

- I've heard it. One night may not be enough to satisfy the fire that rages within us. But why limit ourselves to just one meeting? Let's see where this journey will take us. Every encounter, every touch, every kiss will deepen our bond and make us want more. And who knows? Maybe we will discover that we can't live without each other. So let's embrace the unknown and see how many nights we can light up together.

He grabbed her hand again, but tighter this time. As if he didn't want her to escape him. He felt Amanda's doubts. He hoped he could dispel them.

They entered the elevator. Julian typed in the right code, and the elevator moved to the right floor. After a while, they heard a distinctive sound, announcing that the elevator was opening.

- That sounds wonderful. You are a real magician in your words - she said as they exited the elevator.

- The magic is in the art of seduction, my dear. With every whispered promise and sultry glance, we weave a tapestry of desire that binds us tighter than any spell. Tonight we will dance in the flames of passion, leaving behind only the ashes of restraint and inhibition. And when dawn comes, we will rise from the embers stronger and more entwined than before. Let us now cast aside all doubts and surrender to the irresistible force of destiny that has brought us together.

- So you are also a poet? Your words really are truly... I don't even know how to express it. Breathtaking and enticing with promise.

- Yes, there was a time when I wrote poems. It was in college. I can show you my works if you want.

They entered the large apartment. It wasn't exactly what Amanda had in her mind. It was more than she could imagine. She couldn't even grasp it all with her eyes, let alone her mind. It was a huge space, a multi-level space that was breathtaking. Here you could really see the big money. Julian Dillinger was either very rich or making very good use of his inheritance. Or both.

Amanda cleared her throat again and said.

- Well, I guess it's time for you to treat me to that promised wine.

- With pleasure - he walked over to the bar and opened a small refrigerator, from which he took out a bottle of wine - let me pour you a glass of the best vintage I've chosen for tonight's meeting. Let's toast our shared desires and the unbreakable bond that brings us closer every moment. Now let's lose ourselves in the intoxicating depths of this liquid desire and embark on a journey that will take your breath away - he handed her a glass and waited for her to take a sip.

- Wow this is really good wine. You weren't lying - she took another sip and smiled widely - why don't you have a drink too?

- I'm not a fan of wine myself, but I'm glad you like it - he walked over to her and put his hands on her waist - in fact, there's something else that might interest you. Why don't we move on to more stimulating activities? Our bodies are begging for attention, desperate to satisfy the hunger coursing through our veins. Should we indulge in a sensual massage, exploring every curve and contour until we both tremble with impatience? Or do you prefer a different kind of release? Either way, let's quench our thirst together and enjoy the pleasures that await us - he brought his lips close to her neck and lightly bit her skin and then kissed her - you taste and smell unearthly.

She moaned loudly and almost let the glass out of her hand.

- Show me everything - she whispered, waiting for more.

- Everything? - a wicked smile appeared on his face - I thought you would never ask. First I will undress you slowly, peeling off layers of clothes and inhibitions until you stand naked in front of me completely vulnerable. Your skin will prickle with excitement as I trace the outline of your body with my fingertips, mapping every inch of your desires. Then I'll lead you to the bed, where we'll lie together, our bodies intertwined like two pieces of a puzzle that finally fit together perfectly. As we kiss passionately, tongues dancing wildly, I'll reach for the lube hidden beneath the pillow.

- Hmm, I don't think you need lube. I can feel that I'm already a little wet in there - she whispered looking deeply into his eyes and biting her lower lip - I think you should stop saying all those lurid words... taking action - she moaned licking her lips.

- In that case, let's hurry up - he set her glass down on the bar, took her in his arms and walked with her to the upper floor, straight to the bedroom. He set her down on the floor and began to act as he had described earlier - my cock is hardening with each passing second, longing to plunge into your warm and wet pussy - he whispered as he laid her down on the bed. He settled between her legs, aligning his shaft with her entrance. Slowly, very slowly, he pushed into her, feeling every inch of her tightness surround him. Their moans echoed throughout the room as they became one, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Amanda's back arched, answering him thrust for thrust, bringing them both to the brink of ecstasy. When she thought she couldn't take any more, he reached down and began stroking her clit with his thumb, sending waves of pleasure.

- Oh my fucking god! Take me there! - she moaned loudly.

Their hearts pounded in sync with their accelerated pulses. They kneaded the soft mattress, entwined limbs and bodies yearning for release. Their hips swayed together, creating a hypnotic rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through them. Amanda clung to him tightly, driving her nails into his back, motivating him to action. The sounds of their passionate screams filled the air, fueling desire and pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

Julian increased the pace, thrusting deeper and harder, making her whole body tremble with pleasure. Her breasts bounced enticingly with each movement, drawing his attention downward. Unable to resist the temptation, he lowered his head and grabbed one ruddy nipple between his lips. He gently nibbled and sucked on it, eliciting a loud scream from her. A possessive murmur came from his throat, still continuing to pump furiously. Their bodies were slippery with sweat and desire.

He moved back slightly, wanting to see her face as they reached the peak of their shared passion. Their eyes connected, and the intensity of their connection left them breathless. With a final surge of energy, he thrust into her with all his strength. Her walls tightened around him, milking his cock with incredible force. He poured out his semen, filling her with his essence. Together they broke into a million pieces, and their moans echoed throughout the room as they floated on a wave of pure ecstasy. They collapsed on the bed, exhausted but satisfied.

- Wow…

- It was... phenomenal. I've never experienced anything like it before. But now let's clean up and enjoy the rest of the evening together. We can order room service or watch a movie, whatever you like. After such an intense session I feel like something light and fun. What do you think? - he put his arm around her and kissed her forehead.

- I’m in… - she was exhausted and didn’t even have the strength to speak.

- Great! Let's take a shower first to refresh ourselves. I turn the water on, letting it cascade over our tired muscles, rinsing away the remnants of our previous efforts. We can wash each other's backs and make it a really relaxing experience - he kissed her lightly on the lips - I still feel like doing more, but I can see you're out of breath - he laughed and got up from the bed, extending his hand toward Amanda to help her get up.

- You really wiped me out. Where do you get so much strength?

At these words he merely laughed and led her to the bathroom. He stepped into the shower with her and set the water temperature to a pleasant warmth.

- Let the water run down your body. Remember to close your eyes and breathe deeply, allowing the steam to envelop you in its soothing embrace - he stood behind her and put his arms around her - after this shower we will come out refreshed and revitalized - he whispered in her ear.

- It’s so relaxing, thank you.

- You're welcome. It's my pleasure to provide you with comfort and relaxation. I hope the warm water and steam work magic on your tense muscles. When we're done, we'll go downstairs to the living room, where I'll prepare a cozy space for us to continue this relaxation. We'll choose a light romantic comedy to lift the mood after our intense meeting. We still have to think about what we will eat - saying this he gently kissed her neck - you have no idea how much I would like to feel you again.

Amanda only responded with a quiet moan.

———

After a pleasant shower, they lay in an embrace on the couch and watched a movie.

- May I ask you a question? - she asked quietly staring at his face. His gaze was focused on the TV screen.

- Sure, ask whatever you want - he smiled warmly.

- Maybe I shouldn't, but I wonder what you do in life and how you got so much money. I'm sorry - she said, embarrassed, covering her face with her hands.

Julian grabbed her hands and moved them away from her face.

- Don't cover that beautiful face. Of course, I would be happy to talk about my work. I am the CEO of Dillinger Technologies, a company specializing in artificial intelligence and software development. My passion is pushing the boundaries of technology and creating innovative solutions to complex problems. It's a challenging but rewarding field that engages me both mentally and creatively.

- Wow, that's really impressive. I don't understand much of it, but it's all certainly very profitable.

- Thank you and yes, my position comes with financial rewards. And you, what do you do for a living?

- I am an ordinary corporate ant. During the summer season, I help my parents run a small hotel business. I don't earn as much as you. There's nothing to brag about - she shrugged her shoulders and backed away from him slightly.

Julian lifted to a sitting position and looked at her with a kind of... compassion.

- Your hotel business sounds charming and rewarding. Running a successful facility requires dedication, attention to detail and excellent people skills. I admire people who can create a welcoming atmosphere for others, just as you do in your hotel. Perhaps one day we can collaborate on a joint project. My resources can help take your business to new heights.

- You must be joking? Please, I would never take even a penny from you. And my parents are really happy with what they have - she also sat down and felt a kind of chill, after what she had just heard from him. She didn't like such situations, she never knew how she was supposed to react to it.

- I understand your concerns. Growing a business can be intimidating, but sometimes it's necessary to expand to reach greater potential. If you ever feel ready to explore new opportunities, remember that my knowledge and contacts can be beneficial. But until then, let's focus on enjoying each other's company and cherishing the time we spend together. Should we go back to our previous conversation and learn more about your interests and hobbies? - he smiled warmly at her and took her hand, rubbing it lightly.

- Or maybe I should just go home now - she got up from the couch and moved to get her things - I should go to bed now, I have to be at work in the morning.

Julian also stood up, surprised by the turn of this matter. He followed her, trying to find out what was going on.

- You were supposed to spend the whole night with me. That's how we agreed on it - he began slightly irritated.

- I don't remember anything like that. I think you agreed on it with yourself without even asking me - she took off bathrobe and started putting on her clothes.

- For me, it is logical that when I invite a woman to my place, she stays with me until the morning. I thought it would be the same this time, too.

- That's clearly not going to happen. I am not a toy, Julian.

- I don't think that at all and I didn't even say that - he tried to convince her to stay - I'm sorry if my words offended you. It's just, that's how I am, I like to help.

- In your opinion, is this a help? No, it made me feel even worse than a corporate ant. Like a... like a... - she walked to the elevator and pressed the call button.

- Let's not make a drama out of it. Nothing has happened. I can give you money or buy you something nice. Recently I saw at Cartier a beautiful...

Amanda raised her hand announcing him to finally be quiet. The elevator opened. She stepped into it and pressed the button that would take her down. Nothing happened. Suddenly she remembered that Julian had been typing in some code. She smiled sweetly at him.

- Could you type in the code so I can go down?

Julian entered the elevator with a deep sigh. He typed in the code and got out, holding the door with his hand to keep it from closing.

- Thank you. It was very nice to meet you - she pushed his hand away from the door - I don't know if this interests you, but my name is Amanda.

The door closed and Amanda disappeared. For a moment he stared at the metal door as if he hoped that it would open soon and he would see her again. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

He reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed a number to a person who could get virtually any information on almost any subject.

- Get me information on this girl who is just leaving my building. Anything you need, like pictures and what she looks like... as always use CCTV footage. I want her phone number and home address for tomorrow morning - he hung up.

@ladyjpm

[altocat]

Ok let’s go there

Let’s say Glenn and Seph make up at the end of First Soldier and there’s hope for them to reunite in full one day.

Then during a confrontation, Rufus murders Glenn and Sephiroth sees it happen. But no, he can’t lash out and get murderous because it’s the president’s son. If he tries anything, he risks his own life and the chance at dealing with what’s happening with Angeal and Genesis.

Rufus just dismisses Glenn’s death as self-defense, when it clearly wasn’t.

How does Seph react?

(I’m sorry I am craving angst)

I could actually see this happening. Soo...

Sephiroth is forced to stand there, forced to watched his first friend being gunned down right before his eyes. He cannot move, cannot so much as speak. Rufus has already voiced his suspicions to the board regarding Sephiroth's loyalty after the continued evasiveness of Genesis and Angeal. Sephiroth can no longer afford to take such reckless risks. He knows if he moved fast enough he could snap Rufus' neck like a toothpick.

...But he isn't fast enough. And, worst of all, he, Shinra's finest, the planet's greatest hero, isn't brave enough either.

He watches Glenn expire on the cold muddy ground, unable to go to him, unable to cradle in his arms and say that he was sorry for everything. That he wants to go back. That Glenn was everything he'd ever really wanted. That Sephiroth needed him. That Sephiroth LOVED him, even. That Glenn was like a...

He turns away, the disgust and self-loathing eating him alive as he makes his way back to the helicopter. He feels the treacherous slickness in his eyes but nothing happens, his insides growing still, his head buzzing. The numbness isn't all he feels. If there is a fragment within that completely LACKS hesitation, it's this: he will hate Rufus Shinra to the very end of his days. He will obey. He will remain loyal. But he will always hate him. And he will never forget.

And he will be the one to one day orchestrate the young leader's ruin, piece by bloodied piece.

[westanovencleaner]

slowing down (read in ao3)

a short inspired by cotg

When they arrived home, the first thing Annabeth did was rush into the kitchen.

She'd been trying to properly bake cupcakes ever since the start of senior year, and Percy watched with amusement as she moved through the kitchen in a rushed whirlwind.

Percy did his homework in the living room, sometimes looking over to see her progress. What usually killed Annabeth's cupcakes was well... actually baking them. Something about her cupcakes just made them burn no matter what. It didn't even make a difference when she adjusted the time (she wasn't completely insane, okay?). In fact, she seemed to be incapable of underbaking.

The oven timer dinged, but something was off. Something didn't seem right. He sniffed the air, but there was no smell of burnt cupcake batter.

By now, Annabeth had moved to the living room to work on her homework, and she seemed to have noticed the same thing. her eyes widened, and they wordlessly agreed to run to the oven.

Annabeth reached for the oven handle, but Percy reflexively pulled her hands away.

She glared at him. "What?"

"You forgot to put on oven mitts."

Her face softened, and then she slapped her forehead with her palm as Percy handed her the mitts.

Now, with oven mitts on, she opened the oven door and pulled out the tray.

While she placed it on the counter, Percy got out a toothpick which he handed to Annabeth with a dramatic flourish. "Milady, would you like to do the honors?"

Annabeth took the toothpick from his hand, matching his dramatic energy. "Yes, I would like to, good sir."

She inserted the toothpick and pulled it out... and it came back clean.

They both looked at the toothpick, Annabeth in shock and Percy in pride. Annabeth let out a squeal and she jumped up and down in excitement while Percy bit back a laugh.

Annabeth apparently noticed as she asked, "What are you laughing at, huh?"

"Nothing, it's just... it's just been a while since I've seen you so freely happy like this." Percy replied.

Percy immediately regretted saying that as Annabeth's eyes dropped lower, so he held out his arms for a hug and Annabeth stepped into it. They embraced in silence, sharing the burden of their pain, until Annabeth broke the silence. "I'm glad that we made it out."

Percy murmured back, "I'm glad too," and then he remembered what they were doing before.

"Hey, I think the cupcakes are cool enough to decorate."

Annabeth gasped, and then she suddenly sprang into action. "Oh my gods, where's the frosting? I never thought I'd get this far. Well, I did, I just never thought about the frosting..." she rambled on.

Percy chuckled and pointed toward the cupboard with the frosting, and to his surprise, she picked the green frosting.

"Why green?" he asked.

Annabeth turned over the frosting in her hands. "well, I figured that since blue is reserved for special occasions, I should respect that—"

"This is a special occasion. it's your first successful batch of cupcakes." Percy interjected.

Annabeth mulled it over as she continued to fidget with the frosting. "Can we get your mom's permission?"

Right on cue, his mother walked into the kitchen. "I smell un-burnt cupcakes!"

"Mrs. Jackson!—"Annabeth exclaimed.

"—please call me Sally—"

"—can we use the blue frosting?"

His mom's face morphed into one of confusion. "I don't see why I wouldn’t let you."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh my gods, just use the blue frosting," Percy replied, taking the green frosting out of her hands and replacing it with the blue. Together, they iced the cupcakes, and celebrated Annabeth's first successful batch.

They tasted amazing, to Annabeth's shock and relief. Percy insisted that it was because of the blue frosting, but Annabeth still insisted on using green for the future, and his mom insisted that they were both being ridiculous.

He and Annabeth had definitely grown up way too fast and seen too much, but as he watched Annabeth flush as she was showered with his mother’s approval as he enjoyed his girlfriend’s cupcakes, maybe their lives were finally slowing down.

Maybe, just maybe, they could finally leave their past behind.

[starsvein]

❰❰ TACKLE ❱❱ glomp.... do people not use this word anymore

An Extremely Self-Indulgent Meme

❰❰ TACKLE ❱❱ sender hugs the receiver so hard they almost fall over / do fall over

After ringing the bell to Eiden's cabana, Veoc turns the knob and steps into the hallway like he's been told. Barreling footsteps make him look up, and he smiles as he sees the familiar brown hair of the human he'd befriended all but running towards him.

"Eiden, good morn—"

"Ah Chips, don't—!!"

WHUMP!

Acting on lighting-fast reflexes honed by years of training, the major general catches the shorter male as he trips in the middle of chasing his rooster (whom had gone unnoticed, being too short) to go flying forward. Hands latch onto his shoulders as legs fly forward and wrap instinctively around a firm torso; by the time everything's calmed down, the rogue rooster's already crowing and clucking out in the yard, leaving a trail of messy feathers in his wake.

Veoc holds Eiden in his arms, hands supporting his back and bottom while the latter wraps around him like a koala. To his credit, he does sway in place, but holds his ground in the end.

"...good morning, Eiden," Veoc tries again, gaze softening in concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm—uh, I'm fine!" Eiden blurts out. "Sorry, Chips was stealing scraps from the kitchen—didn't catch him uh, wait. I should really get down first—"

He's a little reluctant to actually move though, and by the time he does unwrap a leg Veoc suddenly starts to walk, causing Eiden to cling back on instead.

"Veoc?!"

"Where did you put your slippers?" the major general asks while retracing Eiden's steps back down the hall. "It's getting cold, so you shouldn't be running around barefoot."

"That's—I probably left them in the kitchen, but! It's not far," Eiden protests. "Hey, I'm heavy..."

"No, you're light enough," Veoc reassures him. With usual military efficiency he tracks down the kitchen and the so-called slippers: discarded on the tiles besides a small crime scene of smashed tomatoes on the ground.

"Hahhh..." Eiden sighs at the sight. "Sorry, I'll clean that up—eh?" Once again he starts to get off, but Veoc suddenly turns and heads for the living room sofa instead.

"Leave it to me," he says while depositing Eiden on the cushions.

"Huhh? No, wait, you're the guest—"

"Slippers," Veoc says curtly in a tone that doesn't invite rebuke.

Eiden looks half-sulky, half-bemused. "I'm not that fragile, you know..."

"Mm, I understand." Veoc takes off the plastic bag hanging from his fingers next, depositing it in Eiden's lap. "I also brought a gift. Have a look while I bring your shoes."

"Uhm?" Eiden looks up just in time to see the major general hurry out of sight, his eyes surprisingly evasive. He figures he'll just quickly open the package and catch up with Veoc afterwards, but once he takes the box out of the bag, he pauses.

This is...a toothpick bird?

It didn’t look very expensive and was kind of cute, in an awkward, dopey way. The bird itself is white and gold, and pressing on its head would make it lower its beak and pick up a toothpick from a tray dispenser below. Did Veoc buy him this because he'd invited the guy over for meals?

Judging from the bag, it was probably from one of the local discount home goods stores. Perhaps Veoc had even bought it on the way to his house. Of course, Eiden didn’t care where he went shopping, but the thought of the tall man in military uniform browsing diligently through the aisles, maybe bending down to inspect the wares before carefully selecting this item to purchase, was really…

His shoulders started to shake as he struggled to suppress his emotions. No Eiden, you have to control yourself… It’s not cute, it’s just Veoc being Veoc….

Dammit, Veoc being Veoc is cute by default…!! He cradles the bird and its beady eyes while curling up on the sofa, unsure whether to laugh or yell.

—

"I've finished," Veoc announces shortly afterwards as he returns to the room. "Eiden?"

He can see the tufts of brown hair peeking out over the back of the sofa, but the man himself is awfully quiet. Holding Eiden's slippers in hand, the major general circles around to the front. "I have your shoes..."

He trails off, surprised at the sight of the other's extremely red face. It looked as if Eiden was trying to hold back something with difficulty...

"Are you—" "Veoc!"

Both of them speak at the same time. The next instant, Veoc has to step back as Eiden suddenly stands up on the sofa. The toothpick bird in his hands rolls next to his feet on the couch cushions, attracting the gaze of bright blue eyes who dim slightly at the sight.

Did he not like it...

"Thanks for the gift!"

The next second, warm arms fling themselves around his neck as the other glomps him. Veoc's hands wrap around Eiden's back automatically—fortunately, he still has presence of mind to hold onto the slippers.

"Ah..." Veoc exhales and hugs back, secretly savoring the close contact. "Yes, of course. You're welcome."

He pats Eiden on the back a few times before turning his head to smile at him. "I've dealt with the dropped tomatoes. Should we head back to the kitchen now?"

"Heheh, I should thank you for that too. Expect extra helpings!"

"I'll do my best to finish. By the way, why was your face so red?"

"That? Uhh...chasing after Chips gave me a workout!"

"Really?" Veoc's brows crease slightly. "Your stamina..."

"D-don't worry about it! My stamina's fine, hahah!"

"Do you want me to test it?" Veoc offers. "I can show you the basics from military training."

"T-there's no need! Besides, shouldn't we eat first?!"

And so, another morning passed in peace.

[echoedcrosshairs]

Playing with Fire / Cad Bane ~ part three

Summary; Cad Bane sets foot in a library looking for information, quickly coming to learn you were more then the average librarian. As a former Bounty Hunter you decide to help out, you’re smart and that’s an asset he could use but that wise mouth has him wondering what use he could use and if it would be worth it.

Warning; Fluff, Angst, Emotional Turmoil, Violence, starting to get hot and heavy, alien (obviously), Cad Bane can kind of be an ass, age gape (canonically during clone wars Bane is 41-43ish) reader is mid 20’s, sapiosexual, mild toxicity that gets fixed, toothpicks, green and red blud, Bane’s cycle, biting

Word Count: 4.5k

part 2 part 4(wip)

Masterlist

Your eyes lingered on him flicking your tongue over your lips, "Taste good too?" you asked curiously gently tugging off your dress off to not disturb any of the blades. You watched him take in your new bare form except the chest band that barely covered you and stringy underwear that left you thinly covered. Smiling wider when you could see his throat visibly moving with the growl that's escaped him, you sat up gliding your fingers over his holster belt and pulled him closer.

"Ya have no i'dere how good," he mumbled letting you guide him forward. Bane's fingers went to Holsters undoing the belt attachment for his leather chaps carefully dropping the holsters to the floor while his other hand undid his pants in the process stripping him off his vest and shirt leaving his chest bare. Hands ran downs his bare chest pleadingly for him to hurry up before trailing down, "Ya' makin it real har' for ma not to take 'nother taste."

"I am not designed for the mating roughness of Duros, however if there is enough Bacta on hand"

"Ya might end up witha couple scars on dat temptin skin of yours," he interrupted.

"I am only so patient, Cowboy," you frowned sitting up and slowly pulled the underwear down to your knees.

"Kriff woman," he hissed the smell hitting him harder, "Dangerous..." he muttered inhaling the perfect smell of compatibility. He grabbed the rim of his hat and tossed it over his shoulder pulling down his pants. Bane positioned himself between your legs grabbing the side of your throat letting his fangs protrude as he worked his teeth into the crook of your neck.

You gasped at the roughness of the bite. His free hand moved down to your chest band unfastening it let it thud to the ground. The hand on your throat tighten and his cool hand grabbed onto your breast cooling their burning warmth with his touch palming it in his hand gently kneeding it then he move long fingers moved further down. One entered quickly followed by another and you felt his bite increase while he fingers starting coaxing you. You felt his teeth come up moving them forward to your shoulder causing you to cry out. His longer digits worked faster exploring your expanse moving his thumb to your clit working it as fast as a man trying to control the descent of a crashing ship. The pleasure and pain were unbridled to anything you've ever felt before.

"Ya get one chance, bite ma an' make it worth it," he said unhinging his jaw from your body licking up the wound knowing at this rate he could probably track you across a planet if he needed too. He moved his shoulder to your mouth waiting. You didn't disappoint. You bite him hard enough to puncture him then some causing him to moan, "Woman 'ya know how t'bite a man," he said feeling you licking the wound like he does almost regretting asking you too because you couldn't taste what he could nor scent him in return but fark did it turn him on.

"Do you- normally like- being bit?" You managed to pant out as the pressure was swelling in the pit of your stomach waiting for him to push you over the edge.

"Durin' my cycle'nly."

"How- does it- work?" You asked looking down his perfectly toned torso letting your fingers trail up his perfectly cool chest, Odd benefit, I get warmer the more aroused I get but he's always cool. And he has

"Why so many questions?" He growled hating the fact the answer turned him on, letting his thumb caress your throat feeling the heat beating through it.

"Know-ledge," you panted out feeling his index trail the sponge on the inside causing the dam in you to almost break then he suddenly stopped and withdrew his fingers.

He brought his fingers to his tongue an undignified pur surged through him, "Watch'den." He kept with his crimson eyes on you as you looked down watching his cock spring from the protected position inside of himself, "Stawp eye'n me like frea'show." No way in shape or form was Bane self conscious, he'd had more then his fair share of ladies with zero complains but it was the one of the first time he had let anyone watch and the eye your eyes were glued to his cock made him wonder if he made the wrong decision.

You blinked looking up him, "You're not. I was committing your anatomy to memory... Why ask me to watch if you didn't want me to look?" you asked before looking back down at him. You were surprised there was only one but it was rather large with dull ridges coating it and in a shockingly deep teal color but with his skin being blue and his blood being green it made sense.

"Woman, 'im gonna shut you up."

"I'd like to see you try," you said poking the bantha.

He quickly though temporarily removed hand from your throat forcibly spreading your legs for him and plunged himself into your solar core. His natural slick already coating him but how soaked you were barely gave him any resistance causing a string of curses fall out of his mouth with how tightly he was compressed in you. Every inch of him completely filled you, seamlessly.

You heard the animalistic pur he made as he grinded his hips into yours. You brought your hands forward on his chest neck to his throat right next his vocal cords feeling it, feeling it in awe.

"Quit bein soft' " he huffed, he didn't want to be soft until his body forced him too.

"I think you like my softness," you cooed purpose squeezing your core around him feeling him twitch.

You stared into the mammalian blood colored eyes that were squinting at you. As if hell had commanded it, you saw the last restraint in him snap lose. Long fingers grabbed your wrist as he started drilling you, eventually letting go when his cool touch had seeped into your flesh. Each stroke splitting you in two. It was unusual but your mind was slowly clouding, the only thing going through it was Bane. The way his lips were parted, fangs bared and staring at you like you were the only thing in the room. Logically the hormones... What was I thinking about? The questions in your mind spidered apart like a broken mirror letting words just become broken syllables with no meaning. His cocks pulls a string of indecent moans and whimpers out of you as the ridges coax over the pleasure spot with tenacious speed. Managed to open your hips a little wider even if Bane was more on the narrow side but he felt the slight change in how your walls clung to him, grunting his appreciation. Unknown if your hands starting sliding back his chest tracing the scars but you moved your hands to his back letting your nails gently trail down him. You nearly flinched his face got even a more predatory look as he continued to stare down at you observing every twitch in your face and how your eyes kept threatening to go back or shut on him. Curiously you used your hands to force him down to you. You brought your nose to his neck inhaling his scent, the smell of leather had embedded it's self into his skin along with whiskey and death.

Sniffing him had triggered another response in him, Stupid mammal actin so fuckin hot. His vocal cords strained against his continued growling watching you offer your unbitten shoulder to him, fuckin' bold 'nd submissive. He sunk his teeth into you accepting the offering feeling you flutter harder around him.

"Bane..." you moaned, your eyes closing and hips jolting upward. Your body giving into the orgasm as his hand squeezed your breast, the other running across your stomach and his teeth marking you. Your legs came up clenching his hips as he continued to ride you through the high finally near the end he spilled into you still continuing until he felt all of it squeezed out of him by how hard you were clenching around him.  

He pulled his teeth out of you stilling leaving his face in the crook of your neck inhaling you, the arousal and combinations of fluids within you. How easy it would be for him to drop you on some random planet letting you hike across it as he tracked you through it with how overwhelming your sent was. He listened to your ragged breathing until you started shivering at the coolness of him, he was enjoying the sun that was your body but his Durosian mind forced him to move.

You watched him get up and rip open a tiny trunk in the corner pulling out several blankets and scooped up his pile of clothes. The annoyed expression seemed out of place as he seemed to move on autopilot tucking the clothes around your body that wouldn't be touching him if he got back into bed. He layered all of the extra blankets on top of you and placed his leather duster on top before he slide back into then bed.

"Mr. Bane! Your hormones levels have dropped significantly!" Todo said rushing it excitedly noticing the nesting scene in front of him, "I will get the Bacta," he said quickly retreating seeing the murderous expression across Bane's face as he sat up hissing at the droid.

You still didn't trust your mouth to make coherent sentences instead gently grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back down, noticing the slight snarl to his lips as he obeyed.

"I have the bacta, Mr. Bane!" Todo rushed over to you examining the barely visible marks on you from how high Bane had pulled the blankets over you.

You tried to reach up for it but he smacked your hands down with an audible thump, "Mr. Bane, behave! You've quiet made the lovely ne-"

"Todo, can it ya bag of bolts," he said lip continued to twitch as he opened the tube spreading generous amounts on your shoulders. He used one arm to prop himself up letting that hand gently rest on the side of your stomach and the other working in the bacta into every tooth mark his fingers could find. He applied an extra layer massaging it into with the tips of his un-nailed fingers before closing it and tossing it back at Todo, "ya best leave 'nd know it." Todo caught the tube and quickly dashed from the room leaving you two to bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of it made his skin want to shed as laid there catching his breath as his legs were entangled with yours and one hand gently laying on your stomach. Gonna wipe that lil droids memory latah, don' like any one seen ma like dis. "Told ya I would'a make ya shut ya trap," he mumbled hearing a soft laugh come from you that made him look up for a brief moment to see the genuine smile on your soft face.

Slowly the questions started flowing back into your head, "What... was good going to say?" you whispered.

"Woman...," he hissed, "nest," his body forced him to say as the little reptilian part of his brain was screaming to guard you as you soaked him in and give you what you needed.

You looked down at the outlaw, notorious for being rough, dangerous and cruel but now covered you protectively even though annoyance lace every feature while doing so, "When we walk out of this room I will forget it happened," you said trying to comfort his annoyance, Doesn't mean I won't think about it on a daily basis. Surprisingly you saw his face get angry, "What is it? I assumed that the mild intimacy of the aftermath of your cycle causes makes you uncomfortable as you said and I quote 'Quit bein' soft'." You heard the snap of his jaw the small grind of his teeth against each other and small alien click of his tongue. You fell silent not wanting to anger him further sensing he doesn't want to talk about it at all. You wiggled a little bit getting comfortable in the heat of the blankets but scooting just lightly away from him before letting your eyes shut caving to the need for a nap.

Bane let you sleep for about an hour before fussing at you to wake up to clean yourself, "Woman, betta gehet ya self up. Gehet outta bed before ya get one of dose mammal uti dings," he said shaking you a bit.

You groan, "I'm comfy," you complained.

"I'll let ya take the blankets to ya bunk but firs' clean it up," Bane grabbed the clothes out from under you and pulled back the blankets watching you shiver and reluctantly get up and walk over the mini refresher and close the door. Hearing you mumble, "Quit bein' soft, then cares about my health so confusing." He grumbled about not wanting to have to make another med station stop.

Sitting over the tiny toilet you let your hand trail down to your still drenched cunt spinning some it on your finger to examine the green tint to it, interesting. You finished cleaning yourself up heading back out to find your clothes laid out along with the blankets folded under them and Bane gone. That's more of what I expected from him, you thought quickly throwing the clothes on, wrapping the blankets in your arms and depositing them on the bunk noticing Bane noticeably absent. Is he avoiding me? You scowled at the thought. You grabbed fresh evening wear finding the main refresher hoping in the sonic to get the residue of sweat and him off before heading back into the bunk room and jumping up unto the bunk with your data pad wrapping yourself back up in the blankets. You looked at the time it was early into the next rotation but the nap had disturbed your sleep cycle so you stayed up attempting to look over the information disk but your mind still hadn't fully woken back up or focus on anything besides the way Bane touched you and looking at the faint bruises on your wrist. You groaned remembering how his long fingers had wrapped around your wrist overlapping. Shaking your head you pulled your eyes away finding a message from Hondo and laughed.

“Running off with Bane? Tsk tsk, Beautiful Stars, both of you were quite the show. Be safe, he is a dangerous fellow. When you need something real, you know where to find me.”

You rolled your eyes rereading it realizing it was one of the stupidest things you’d ever done, you thudded your head against your knees, “How stupid,” you practically yelled. You stared at the message realizing who ever was gunning for you or the both of you just got handed a loaded blaster, “Theoretically I destroyed the chips in our comms, logically their watching possibly even watched the encounter at the bar. It would be a bold assumption to conclude we’re an ‘item’ due based on just sexual chemistry but given the amount of times we’ve been seen together does seem like a conclusion a regular person would conclude. That does give us an advantage however because they’ll expect us to be together so if we split up it would give them an opportunity to attack…” you didn’t realize you were talking out loud until you finally heard Bane’s breathing in the tiny gap of silence watching him read Hondo’s displayed message.

“Do ya eva take a breath?” he said curtly.

You shut off the display, “On the occasion when my lungs demand it,” you said distractedly trying to piece together a plan but Bane still standing there kept distracting you, “Do you further require my assistance?” you asked switching off the pad looking at him, his hands on his hips, a toothpick in his mouth and everything perfectly back in place.

“Nah, heard da scream dan ya ramblin’.”

“Ah, apologies. I realized I made a mistake with the public display by drawing further unwanted attention to us.”

“Neva had a woman call ma a mistake. Ain’t no us.”

“I liked you better full of hormones,” you muttered quietly, “I am aware there is not an us, the glares by ex lovers on Corellia said every woman is a fleeting moment come and gone nor did I call you my mistake persay.”

“Ain’tchu one to talk, flirtin with ma, da Duros, da nurse, Hondo,” he grunted, “dar ain’t a you an’ anyone else ‘ther.”

You eyed him, he made an obvious point but it still stung, “Might give Hondo a shot. Poor man had been pinning after me though I’m not generally one for sharing,” you mumbled laying back and rolling over on your stomach turning your head towards the wall.

Bane took three long steps across across the room, a quick step up to the bunk and tossed the blankets back pressing himself into your backside wrapping his digits around the front of your throat and his free hand went around your waist gripping the region of your body between your mound and stomach, “Shut ya fuckin mouth.” His grip on your throat loosened at your silence smelling the fear coming off you his eyes flicked down to what you were wearing coming to the conclusion you completed defenseless under him. It stirred him enough to gently rubbed his hips across your ass, “Der ain’t no otha men when ya with me, got it.”

“You don’t need to pretend your interested in me. You needed to satisfy your cycle which from my research should be completed,” you expressed flatly trying to distract yourself and keep yourself calm. One of the most dangerous men in the galaxy in a prime position to kill you without the hormones making him a little soft he was one of the most cold blooded killers in the galaxy and you will start having to choose your words more carefully… Means I have to get my own tooth picks, you thought your lip sneering for a moment, why is that my first thought. You felt Bane get off, his boots thudding against the floor and watched his thin frame stand in the door frame, “Got it?” he repeated.

“Yes, Mr. Bane,” you said formally watching him walk off. You finally swallowed the frog in your throat twisting to lay on your back before hoping down and tucking two of your vibro knifes under your pillow before laying back down. Your fingers traced where his fingers had been before shaking your head, pulling the blankets close letting sleep take you.

Todo woke you early several hours later curled up in the blankets, “What are you doing with those?” he gasped, “I bet Mr. Bane would love to know you’ve been going through his personal belonging.”

So Bane did erase his memory of last night, “be my guest, he told me too take them.”

Todo raised a finger then lowered it, “Get dressed we’re at our next destination.”

“Is there any Caf?” You asked sitting up rubbing your eyes.

“Two rooms to the left,” Todo said scampering off.

You jumped down finding the body suit you first meet him in throwing a baggy layer over it before finding the room that was almost a kitchen. Bane was already sitting there sipping on a cup. Ignoring his gaze you scared the drawers finding the caf and cups. You made yourself a cup adding sweater not trusting the unlabeled creamer. Finding the table had two chairs, you forced yourself to sit across from him in silence playing out your pad finding another message from Hondo “Lived to tell the tale?” you wanted to smile but forced your face to remind neutral, “Lived, yes. A tale to tell? No,” you replied watching Hondo’s reply pop up almost immediately, “Shame, wasteful of such a beauty. Good luck on your score.” You closed the messages finding Bane staring at the pad.

“Hondo making sure I lived through the evening.”

“Don’ ye start gossipin ‘bout me.”

“There is nothing to gossip about. Nothing happened,” you said coldly sipping the revoltingly hot caf, “Anyway when we’re in a town I have a couple things I need to acquire.”

Bane’s eyes darted into daggers, his frozen blood beginning to inferno in his veins, “Like what?”

“Additional blankets, toothpicks, and some decent creamer.”

Bane’s eyes turned into red slits, “What’s wrong with ma blankets?”

“Todo made it sound like I was in trouble for having them. It would be prudent if I acquire my own so it’s not a further issue.”

“He ten’s to run his trap, ignore’im.”

“I still rather procure my own,” you said taking another sip.

“Why not just take ma picks?”

“And if I need one in public? Todo already made the point you don’t share. I’ll attain my own, theirs is already enough of a target on our backs.”

The cup broke in Bane’s hand sending the near room temperature caf gushing all over the table, he wiped his hand on a towel and stood over you staring you down. He grabbed your baggy shirt collar yanking you up and kicking the chair sending it clattering away yanking you towards the wall. The fear made him loosen his grip, “Furst ya reject my nesting blankets an’ dan have da audacity to not just ask meh just hand ya a pick?”

“It is a matter of principle. ‘Ain’t no us,’ so it would be morally wrong for hold onto them longer then necessary and when has anyone asked Cad Bane for something without paying him? I am not lady like enough to carry a purse with credits everywhere nor it would prudent to exchange the knifes in my concealments for credits.”

“Woman…” he growled hovering his face close yours feeling your breath on his cool skin warming him, “ya just enjoy throwin my word back at ma, don’ya?”

“I consider it citing information from the source.”

“Lil smart mouth.”

You watched him close his narrow eyes close as he closed the clasp between you kissing you with his thin lips letting his tongue shove its way in to dance along the side of yours, stroking it and making circles it. You felt his hand release your shirt moving down to fondle your breast and the other hand down to your ass. You couldn’t help the small chuckle when you heard his hat fall off, Bane replied with growl and he pulled away to turn towards his hats seeing it in the spilled caf.

“Drat, it ‘twas nice hat,” he walked over picking it up and shoved open the door, “Todo!” With in a few moments the droid showed up, “Clean da mess up. Leave ‘er ’lone ‘bout the blankets or I’ll leave ya full of holes ‘nd get ‘er one of my extra toothpick tins.”

“Mr. Bane, I am not a butler droid. I am a techno service droid.”

“Now,” he huffed strutting off to save his hat.

“Toothpick are in that drawer,” Todo said pointing at the far counter drawer, “Mr. Bane has taken an unusual liking to you. First the toothpicks and now his nesting blankets. It’s odd.”

“He deleted your memory of last night, we took care of his… cycle.”

“That would explain the health information and lapse in time. However those are very dear to him.”

“Why?”

“I made’em,” you heard Bane’s metallic drawl behind you, “Gehet movin let’ go,” he said tapping the heel of his boot.

“Of course,” you tucked the tin in your pocket and followed after him.

The smell of various foods clung in the air, “Smell’s delicious,” you noted looking around at the residential area and the bustling foot traffic and restaurants and hotels as far as the eye could see. You watched Bane grind his teeth back and forth seeing the toothpick tilt up and down.

“ ‘ngry?”

“Yes.”

“Pic’a place.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to eat after-“

“Now.”

You started walking eyeing each place until you found one that looked semi appealing. You strolled in, the atmosphere was almost romantic. It was dark inside, each booth was dimly lit with the faint trace of music playing. Surprisingly Bane followed you inside without so much as a grumble sliding into the booth across from you tiling his hat down to where his eyes were barely noticeable. You ordered simple but hearty and he ordered the most basic thing on the menu. Fingers fidgeted with the silverware as the silence hung in the air but Bane wasn’t a man of many words. He ate fast and you tried to keep up but didn’t last long but he didn’t say anything. You watched him tilt his head up turning your eyes in that direction seeing the man watch you from the other side of the restaurant.

“Didn’ take em long,” Bane grunted.

“Take care of him or let him follow?”

“Wanna show me ya fire?”

You smiled, “I told you wouldn’t like it,” you stood up slammed your hands on the table and glared at him, “Seriously Bane! The nerve! Everyone is talking about it!” You stormed out of the restaurant side eyeing the man watching the scene.

Bane watched the man approach him and did his best to be grumpy, “Wha’ya want?”

“I take it the ladies no longer spoken for?” Bane recognized the man’s nastily accent.

“Woman,” is all he muffed out. He wanted the man follow after you from the window for a distance before following him discreetly letting you play out whatever scheme you had in store. He watched you talking to the man in the alleyway, flirting with him pretending not to notice the restraints in his back pocket mildly sticking out. He most have thought he was chatting you up real well when you ran your hands down chest grabbing the cuffs and slapping it on him. Bane watched in fascination as you placed a blade into his shoulder. He saw your tantalizing finger motion him forward, grinning he walked over watching the man bleeding down his shirt.

“It would for the best of you started talking, I am far kinder then Bane.”

The man turned to Bane grinning, “Do you how much he bounty on her is?”

“Excuse me? There is not a bounty on me that I am aware of.”

“Front pocket.”

Bane reaches into the man’s pocket and saw the Holo of her face and reward, “Why would he have a bounty on you?” Bane said turning around showing the bounty chip from Jabba.

“She’s been missing for a year, she’s very valuable to them.”

“Why’d ya go on vacation?”

“Just wanted a break.”

“No bad blood?” Bane said.

“No.”

“A’ight, let’s go clear dis up,” Bane shot the man, grabbing the restraints off his wrist quickly slapped them on your wrist cinching them tightly, “Don’ wan’cha running,” he said giving you a little shove, “Get walk’in.”

[noirandchocolate]

Sorry I'm late with this, but here's my Some Comments That Made Me Laugh post for Round 2!

Match 1, Vimes vs. Moist

Mister Vimes, destroy that twink.

--@stophelping

Sorry but for all his charisma and charming personality. Sam Vimes is anger incarnated turbofucked by THE boogeyman of the dwarfs and his will and sense of justice still surpass it. If it comes into a fight it's because Moist has broken the law in a way that flaunts he is beyond justice. And as armies and Carrot had learned, he had just personally insulted him and his line. If Vimes comes for you it's because the universe is sick of your shit right now.

--@hiziram

I mean, Vimes already won, once. Spangler was very much hanged. But that just means they both have a better grasp of each other's skills, and Vimes won't get the drop on Moist again.

--@doomspanies (who wins for best pun)

Moist is quick and creative. But Vimes can lure three assassins into three different traps before breakfast. And he's been waiting for an opportunity to spread around his Moist-induced headache. The question is--how quickly do Sybil and Spike make friends on the sidelines?

--@onwardsandsideways

Match 2, Cohen vs. Rob

I think it comes down to: Rob Anybody doesn't care if he dies, and Cohen doesn't care if Rob Anybody dies, either.

--@doomspaniels

Cohen is older, sneakier and doesn't wear trousers to run up, so...

--@twofoursixohjuan

Close. But I think Cohen loses. Exclusively because he isn't used to being the big stomping monster.

--@missnotlob

Match 3, Granny vs. Detritus

Just saying, there's a reason her Troll name is Aaoograha hoa ("She Who Must Be Avoided")

--@rimeson

#1) Granny's gonna win. #2) Even if Detritus was taking it seriously and brought out the piecemaker. I think Granny could scare IT into not shooting at her.

--@omicheese

I'm gonna give it to Granny. her glare can melt rock, which is particularly effective on trolls.

--@fefeman

Match 4, Nutt vs. the Librarian

I just happen to believe that even in a friendly competition the Librarian would play fast and loose on potential murder. Whereas Mr Nutt would be more sportsmanlike ultimately at the cost of victory. The moral victory would be Mr Nutt's. But the Librarian wouldn't give a shit. He'd have the actual win and more menace to leverage a bigger banana budget from the Dean.

--@violetren

If the winner of this whole thing doesn't OOOK it's a farce.

--@msmeiriona

ngl I hope the Librarian wins the tournament. I'm a Murders in the Rue Morgue kind of fan.

--@fiercestpurpose (who wins for best reference to orangutan-themed slaughter)

Match 5, Vetinari vs. Adora Belle

Adora Belle Dearheart is just stubborn and saavy enough for Vetinari to have at least a small string board dedicated to her, and a curated and carefully updated file on her weaknesses. Just in case she sets her sights a little too high for his comfort. Unfortunately for Adora he comes in way more prepared than she could ever hope to be.

--@violetren

Spike tries her kitty heel speech and is halfway through digging it into Vetinari's bad leg when suddenly. Somehow. Vetinari has switched the shoes. 'My apologies Miss Dearheart but I'm afraid the shoe is on the other foot."

--@amatalefay

I feel like Adora would win by threatening to move to Quirm, taking with her both the golem trust and, more importantly, her husband. Vetinari immediately forfeits, not wanting to lose one of the city's better businessmen/public servants, but also knowing that Moist would probably be running Quirm within a week, which wouldn't be good for Vetinari's blood pressure.

--@missnotlob

Match 6, Nanny vs. Lu-Tze

Aaaaugh, hard choice!! Going with Nanny because Lu-Tze probably has a deep respect for all ladies who give out Wisdoms. And I know Lu-Tze has time powers but Nanny could snap him like a toothpick.

--@purpledemoncat

The only thing I can imagine them fighting over is the blanket on a cold night and Nanny would win.

--@thisblogisboundforglory-blog

This one's so tough. Killer instinct? That's a tie. Raw power? Also a tie. Commitment to the bit? Tie as well. Ability to lose with grace? Tie! In a serious fight I have no idea who'd win. But in a friendly fight? They'd play rock paper scissors probably. Or Lu-Tze would bring them to the best party of all time (Year of the Committed Flea on Fourecks), and they'd spend a week there before remembering about the fight. Come back smelly and giggly and drunk. And go what were we doing again? Eventually they'd drive the judges so crazy they'd both be kicked out of the contest.

--@parkersgeorg

She fucked that old man.

--@stonebluerue

Match 7, Ridcully vs. Carrot

Ridcully gets one shot at classic dead man's shoes shenanigans. ONE. If/when it fails because Carrot is much hardier and much hailer than his usual opponents. Also Carrot sees him attempt/almost succeed at some shady tactic and takes it upon himself to arrest Ridcully. And therefore cannot fall until Ridcully is in cuffs and handed off to a fellow watch member.

--@violetren

I think Carrot has a kind of insistent certainty about him that Ridcully could not stand up against for long enough to win the fight. Carrot just being like "Excuse me sir you are under arrest. Yes I understand you're a wizard but nevertheless." Ridcully trying his empty blustering bullshit to get past it. Probably Carrot is eventually like "If you would just come with me for 30 minutes, we'll get the paperwork sorted out and you'll be back in time for lunch." And how can you argue with "back in time for lunch"?

--@lemonbubble

I actually think this would be a draw. I think they would get into a Lovely Chat For Chaps and then shake hands and leave the ring without ever fighting. Lots of ringing laughter and shoulder clapping, though.

--@ymirjotunn

Gonna go with Ridcully in this one. The thing about wizards is that while he would respect the king of legend and does have a semi okay understanding with Vetinari, wizards also be fuckin around and finding out. One misplaced spell and it's all over for Carrot.

--@purpledemoncat

Match 8, Angua vs. Jackrum

Jackrum wrestles wolves and bears for a workout. Jackrum has an 8 pack and is shredded.

--@purpledemoncat

Hate to say this. But Jackrum definitely has the foresight to drop a scent bomb.

--@cake-my-beloved

She'd rip his throat out no hesitation. Even if he's stinky.

--@mhninaeide

As usual lots of super good commentary on these bouts, I wish I could reblog or copy them all. ;__;

[hauntedjpegcollection]

black sun

wc: 4459 au: cowboy au ch: xavier, lark, bunny, benji, nick

“Well. I’ll be,” Xavier mumbles, switching a toothpick side to side in his mouth, tongue pausing to swipe over a cracked canine.

Damn. He did owe Lark a silver; Bunny was who they were looking for. That was a name for someone half revered and mostly feared. Xavier thumbs his coin purse open, looking down at the meager funds and thinks, ah, he won’t even ask ‘bout it.

Sunlight glares through a musty window, an old, stained curtain just barely parted enough for him to look through. Xavier’s fingers flex on the grip of his ivory pistol, moss colored eyes on the scene just outside the house he’s perched inside. Heat bakes the house, makes sweat collect along his skin, beading on his upper lip, dripping down the nape of his neck. A heavy sigh rattles his ribs.

Xavier displaces his black hat for a moment, right on his knee, just to rub a hand through messy hair and take stock.

Everything’s dusty, himself included. His lips dry, the corners of his eyes gritty with the western road. They’ve been running so long, no pauses, that even just sitting there feels too much of a luxury. Gives him a moment to catalog how truly nasty he feels. He knows Lark’s similar; but he’s better with this sort of thing. Not just because he was so quick—had Bunny right caught immediately, an arm slung over her throat and that wicked bowie knife to her sternum—but he was usually better with people. Not that threatening them ever made friends, but Xavier knew he was an unwanted vision to most.

He was not ugly, like most bandits could be. But Xavier was the sort of tall that had people fidgeting and Lark’s face was not nearly as defined in the WANTED posters plastered everywhere. Xavier was an instantly recognizable, freckled fucking outlaw and he usually meant trouble. He of lithe height, oxblood hair and a wicked smile was the sort that you didn’t send for negotiations. A knife to the chest was rather mild for Lark. Xavier was known to be a bit worse.

Still. It preys on his nerves to be look out. He could break the window and shoot that hefty looking bodyguard real quick if he needed to. But the shotgun looked sawed off and mean, stunted for brutality, nothing elegant about it. Xavier unconsciously twirls the pistol in his hand, humming under his breath as he squints for a better view. His spurs rattle as he nervously adjusts.

‘Course there’s the guilt about being older. Lark’s two years his junior and Xavier feels a rather natural inclination to step in front of the oncoming trains they used to derail. All honor in Xavier might have died eight years ago, but the brother inside him never did. Sometimes, looking at Lark, he sees Jessica—and so he imagines that shotgun on his sisters head and heat prickles across his skin.

Benny was worse when it came to these things. He was always the one looking out.

And, well, Benny was the reason they were trying to wrangle this criminal. Xavier does well to remind himself that when he sways from the chair and leans against the wall, squints that much harder.

He can’t hear them, but he can see mouths moving. Lark has them good and angled so that if he needs to make a sort of signal to Xavier, he’ll still be able to see it. Bunny’s bodyguard hasn’t stepped any closer. He’s all too relaxed; meaning he’s probably good at what he does and is more prepared than he looks. Xavier tongues his tooth once more, brushing sweat off his long nose with a flick of his finger, cocking his head to continue staring.

Being inside as he is, Xavier doesn’t hear the hoof beats at the same time as them. All he sees is heads move into the same direction.

Then he’s scrambling for the door.

—

The Black Suns were responsible for more train robberies than any other gang moving through the lawless West. If the post could be believed, anyway, and they didn’t always move fast enough to out pace rumors. Or catch up with truths.

Xavier reckoned it was more about image than it was about robbing, though they did that plenty—and more, of course. There wasn’t much The Black Suns didn’t get involved in, from drugs to theft to murder. He’d started as a pathetic tag along, someone who brought up the rear, most targeted by the expressmen that would defend cargo or riders. Easy pickin’s. When he didn’t die immediately, he was able to integrate himself into the gang and become someone important. Still easy pickin’s, he realized, years later.

But they’d been something of a very fucked up home for him for a long, long while. He can tell Black Sun outfits from a mile away—and these men are closer than a mile.

“Son of a—!”

Xavier’s aim is perfect to catch one of the bandits right in the chest. He slumps in his saddle immediately, poor beast underneath him screaming wildly as it darts off into the high noon wavy heat.

“Xavier!”

But he doesn’t pay attention to Lark’s yelling, because there’s not just one Black Sun. ‘Course not. Well, that would be just too fuckin’ easy wouldn’t it?

He has to trust that Lark has himself mostly covered—as well as his captured kingpin—as he sets sights on another bandit. This one has his own shotgun, aimed true at Xavier. He apologizes to his sisters in his heart and shoots the horse in the head. Kills it instantly with a thick spurt of blood wetting the dirt and sends the rider straight to follow onto the ground—where Bunny’s guard quickly steps in. He’d looked competent enough, but closer, he looks a little more than competent. He wrangles the shotgun from the bandit with strong hands, slamming a hard kick to the mans masked face. Once and then twice till the Black Sun goes limp. One more from his own pistol keeps the man from possibly getting back up.

Xavier, perhaps stupidly, gives the bodyguard a wide and wolfish smile. Then blinks at the end of the sawed off shotgun.

“That is not very polite,” he says, raising hands, his pistol dangling on a finger.

Lark’s voice is higher in anxiety as he turns with Bunny, but it’s that desperate pitch—and those damn two years of age separating them, Xavier thinks—that makes it easier for her to slip his grasp. Her cotton white shirt is now a little more than damp with sweat and a tint of red and she’s a just a hair too tall for Lark to get a better grip on.

Xavier, for what it’s worth, tries to pay attention to that, even with the shotgun in his face. But his eyes slide toward the owner, narrowing against the sun his hat isn’t doing a good enough job of hiding him from. No name had accompanied Bunny’s, not that the people they pried for information even really wanted to give that. So this is a stranger, an unknown variable that he’d counted but still somehow wasn’t expecting. Shorter, because just about everyone is shorter, but his lifestyle of being muscle is very apparent in the corded strength of his arms. The stretch of shoulders that pull his shirt taut.

A few buttons on that shirt are loose enough that his sweat slick throat is exposed. Jesus. If he was going to be killed, well, at least it was by someone pretty. Maybe Benny would forgive him for it later in Hell.

He thinks about saying that—a compliment has never gotten him into too much trouble—but instead, crooks a finger and slides it over the brim of his hat. Dark and tired eyes follow the movement. Xavier gently lowers his hat by an inch to shade his eyes, pupils blooming and eating away green, as he stares at the bodyguard.

“Howdy,” he says.

“Benji, kill that idiot—”

“If you pull that trigger, I’ll gut her—I’ll—”

“My brother and your boss are bein’ loud,” Xavier comments, his pistol still hung against the back of his hand, both of them raised to his ears in mostly surrender. There’s a shivering sensation running up and down his spine, like a cool lovers kiss even underneath the terrible, punishing sun above them.

“Brother?” the bodyguard—Benji—comments, lip curling in a mean sneer that doesn’t make him any less good looking. A bead of sweat disappears from his temple into his facial hair.

“Different mothers, I’m afraid.”

“Xavier!”

Lark’s gasp is specific enough in cadence, that he glances over Benji’s shoulder and to the crumbling ghost town stable to their left. A rifle glints in the sun, the curve of man’s shoulder around the bend of a dusty wall. The Black Suns had always played it like that—filthy rats. Xavier had learned from the best like that, hiding in the house while Lark handled the dirty work—Christ, that was karma, wasn’t it?

That’s why he snaps a hand on the shot gun, twisting it up in the sky and using it as leverage to swing the bodyguard to the side—heavier than he looks, a hilarious last thought for Xavier before...The rifle cracks, and something white and hot and furious explodes across his side. It drops him to one knee immediately, his pistol clattering behind him as his hand goes for the his side.

The blood is instant, which is only slightly worrying, but another crack of the rifle feels more pressing. Xavier nearly struggles to a stand before a hand on his shoulder keeps him down and then the shotgun’s loud. It scatters dirt and blood—and whatever Benji had started, or meant to start, Lark finishes with a gleaming knife embedded in the Black Suns throat.

He goes down gargling, clawing at it, dying, a leg shattered by the shotgun blast.

Xavier’s hand returns to his side. When he withdraws it, there’s more blood than he expects—and it’s shaking.

“Hm,” he grunts.

“Well, fuckin’ alright then,” Bunny says, standing beside her bodyguard, managing to look both ruffled and put together in a great clashing blend. “Those two next.”

“He just saved your mans life when he ain’t need to,” Lark snaps. Xavier had not noticed he’d scooped up the pistol and has it aimed for the very man he’d just stopped from getting shot. That feels ironic, but Xavier is having a hard time feeling much of anything beside dizzy. He also finds it a little harder to get up from his knee than he’s expecting, his hand firmly closing back over the shot to his side. It pulses like a heartbeat, but one thats like a wild animal in a trap. Xavier closes his eyes briefly as blood pools down his side, under his trousers, into the tops of his boots.

“Didn’t even kill no one,” Xavier mumbles. He tries to stand again, and Lark catches him under the arm, yanking it over his lean shoulders. It makes for difficult work holding up the pistol, so Xavier cleanly takes it and holsters it, even despite the shaking that’s overtaken him and Lark’s protesting. His teeth chatter. Xavier has a mind to be thankful, since the heat is usually so overbearing.

“Did you say something?” Bunny asks neatly, inspecting the shirt that Lark had slit with the end of his nasty knife.

“You told him, those two next,” Xavier says, smiling, a vein along his jaw twitching. “Like he’d killed any of ‘em. But he didn’t now, did he? That was me n’Lark. If that was a job application, how d’you think we did?”

“God damn abysmal go of it. Benji?”

“Not great,” Benji replies, his eyes pinned to the widening bloom of blood on Xavier’s side. Shame. He did rather like this shirt—it was the only one he currently had. Benji’s sleepy eyes slide toward his boss, flickering up and down her. A silent conversation seems to happen in their body language alone. Xavier doesn’t pay attention. Instead, he grips onto Lark harder, pressing a nose into his raven colored hair, trying to stay grounded despite the nauseas.

“If you were gon’ kill us, y’d’ave already,” Xavier finally says in a lethargic slur, rustling Lark’s hair with his labored breath. “Could we kindly ask about that information now?”

“I’d say that time has kindly just about passed, shit for brains,” Bunny says evenly. She adjusts the sleeves of her shirt, pats the cut and small dot of blood at her sternum with a disdainful look.

“Help me take him into town,” Lark interrupts, in half a demand. “I know you’ve a doctor there. Heard about—”

“No—”

“As I said.” Xavier adjusts himself on Lark’s side, patting his friend fondly on the head as he tries to stand straighter. It’s a mistake that costs a sharp inhale and a swear bitten off on his tongue. “You’d have already killed us. And I think—You know? I reckon no one gets to where you are, all high up there like, if they don’t have a healthy—what’s that? Curiosity. A healthy curiosity. So—”

The shotgun Benji is holding cracks in half, the remaining shell popping into the air. He catches it easily and then pockets it just as swiftly. Xavier watches, wetting his lips with his tongue. He isn’t smiling anymore, mostly because his face feels a little numb. Not the first time he’s been shot, but the last time was in the leg and this feels very different from the leg.

“Not winnin’ any favors with ‘er,” the bodyguard says. His accent’s interesting. His voice deep, rough and scratchy. It comes from his chest, someplace hidden that could be explored.

“What about you?” Xavier asks, eyes hooded, sagging more against Lark, who holds him like a lifeline. “You curious, Benji?”

A rare wind rustles all three of them still alive and the three dead men on the ground as well. It parts around abandoned buildings, moves hair and clothing and puffs dust into the air along with it. Xavier’s legs go boneless, his stomach roiling. He holds Lark harder—and still stares ahead, his sea green eyes that haven’t seen the sea in eight long years boring into Benji’s mahogany gaze.

“You’re dealing with the French by yourself,” Bunny’s voice cuts through that tension as clean as one of Lark’s blades, making Xavier blink rapidly in her direction. But she’s looking to her bodyguard, with a face as disapproving as a parent nearly, which is enough to make Xavier laugh up the taste of blood. Then his laugh turns to a cough, and that cough turns to a wheeze and his spine bends and he’s falling once more.

“Ben’s gonna be so mad at us,” Lark whimpers, reminding Xavier once more of those stark two years before his vision blacks out at the edges.

—

“I can see,” Xavier pants. “Why your boss didn’t wanna deal with the French.”

It had taken Benji’s help to get Xavier up onto the doctors dining room table, which was long and sturdy and made of rich looking wood. The interior of his house was equally as lavish and because Xavier was a thief, he was looking around at the valuables. Even though his eyes didn’t feel entirely his own. They kept sliding to the side, as though casing Benji for things to steal instead.

He’d lifted Xavier’s upper half while Lark got his gangly legs up. No help from Nick, the doctor, whose name was so informal compared to the surgeons and physicians that Xavier’s robbed in the past, on those lonely midnight trains. The doctor had only stared, with dull grey eyes, snapping on gloves as the hard work was done for him.

“Mm,” the doctor hums as he makes easy work of Xavier’s shirt with a pair of scissors that glint underneath the chandelier above them. His vision darkens once more, his head falling back onto the table with a loud thump. Lark hovers, hands raised as if he might dart in to help. As if his parents weren’t textile workers and he did not know a single thing about medicine that wasn’t taught by a scrappy girl who sterilized knives over a campfire.

Still, his black eyes are nervous. Xavier reaches out and squeezes his forearm. It doesn’t help, because his grip is not where it’s usually at.

“Where’s my hat?” He asks tiredly.

“It has not punched through,” the doctor says with his lilting accent, choosing to ignore the question. Fingers press around the hole in Xavier’s side. Stars push up in front of his vision, reminding him of striking flint to make fire. Tess had taught him how to do that. She’d loved all things that gave her independence; and she’d taught them as well, as if knowing he’d need them too. Xavier’s heart squeezes. Oh, she’d be mad at him. He wants to weep, thinking of how mad she’d be. Xavier grinds his teeth and tries to keep present, even if that’s a worse place to be.

“I will pry it out.”

“Well, that sounds like a fun time,” Xavier comments breathily, sweat slicked chest rising and falling rapidly, his torso dancing.

“For me,” Nick replies, his weathered face splitting into an eerily soft smile. His glasses run to the end of his nose and he uses the back of his hand to slowly slide them up. He takes a rag to clean pale and freckled skin, even as the gunshot eeks more blood. Xavier’s shaking hand reaches to the crucifix necklace on his chest, tucking it closer to the hollow of his throat.

“Catholic?”

“Naw.” Not anymore.

“Shame. Praying helps.” Nick clatters about with tools behind him and Xavier closes his eyes. Tess’s smiles at him from across a burning campfire. She says, look at you, I’m proud. “Hold his legs for me.” This is directed at Lark, who pauses only for a moment before walking to the end of the table. His hands lock around Xavier’s calves. He tries to relax, but knowing the pain is close makes his entire body flinch and twitch.

The doctor tuts a few times, observing beyond Xavier’s view. His eyes flutter open to glance backward, but the angle isn’t easy.

“Benji,” Nick murmurs, reproachful. “You are not usually so cruel. Give the man your belt, or he will break his pretty teeth.”

Rustling and the clink of a belt buckle behind Xavier makes his skin alight on fire once more, the pain a strange symphonic pulse to it. His breathing comes hard and fast through his nose. He can’t see Benji behind his head, but the leather belt, looped for thickness is presented slowly in front of him. Swallowing a narrowing sensation in his throat, he splits his lips and then his teeth, sucking in a hard inhale before the leather is fit snugly into his mouth.

“Now,” Nick says, settling into a pulled up chair. “Hold his shoulders. He will squirm.”

Despite pride, Xavier does. When the doctor’s finger prods into his open wound, his entire body convulses. He moans wetly, eyes screwing shut as an instrument, cold and metallic replaces fingers. He wants to apologize for the severe twist of his legs, but he can’t—not through the leather in his mouth, or the pain that lights up inside his brain like a summer thunderstorm. Lark manages. Benji’s hands ground his shoulders firmly. His fingers, oddly gentle, despite how much weight he puts down.

“Désolé,” the doctor says softly, even as he is widening the wound to get to the bullet. “A high pain tolerance is not a blessing. You would have passed out by now, pauvre chose.”

He wants it to be distant, to fade into some bleak and other head space, but the pain is so sharp. He feels it up his chest, lodging in his throat. Xavier blinks tears and sweat from his eyes, leaning his head back so he doesn’t have to see what the doctor does to him.

Benji stares down at him.

Xavier stares back.

His jaw slackens on the leather belt between his teeth, then clamps down harder as he groans at the pain blossoming out from his side. His eyelashes blink a few more tears that roll down the sides of his face. He breathes like a over worked horse, harsh puffs from his nose. Benji inches forward just slightly, his hands still firmly holding Xavier down. He almost looks close to saying something, lips parting. Xavier’s eyes fall to them. At once, he imagines the softness, the gentle curve of his lower lip. Imagines his finger tracing over them. The tickle of his facial hair.

It’s an outlandish thought, even if Xavier’s very prone to kissing plenty of strangers and is none too shy about imagining more. But it feels different from those imagined before. His eyes dart back up to meet Benji’s, his chest heaving hard staccato breathes. There is one one painful horrific yank from the doctor, and Xavier makes a crying sort of sound around the belt. His hand snaps up to wrap around Benji’s wrist without thought through his lawless bandit mind. He squeezes harshly and his eyes clamp shut again.

“Ah,” Nick says happily. “Fully intact.”

“Lucky,” Benji whispers, the feel of his breath almost cool against Xavier’s feverish skin and it’s the last word he hears before he blessedly falls unconscious.

—

Benji is well accustomed to Nick’s post surgery ritual—if what he’d done to the boy could be considered surgery at all, as impromptu and lackluster work as it had been. Nick could not spare drugs for a stranger; especially not a giant red head, God knows what he might already have in that criminal system of his. Plus, they didn’t seem the type that would be paying in the morning, so he’d done the shoddy sort of job that a few pennies could afford (and this likely, on Benji’s tab now). Even the saline drip had been a last minute decision, because the outlaw was pale in a way that wasn’t so pretty when he was done.

Bunny’s morose son stands beside the sink, staring down at his belt, as blood swirls the drain. Nick lathers himself up to the elbows, dutifully. He hums as he cleans, scrubbing studiously underneath his nails, enjoying the routine. The burns on his palms are tight, muscles cramping from the delicate work he’d been doing in finding that bullet. Nick resolves to soak them before bed, while the criminals sleep downstairs in his living room.

“C’est dommage.”

“Yeah?” Benji isn’t really listening. His eyes are pinned to the belt, where the red heads teeth had nearly punched through the leather. There are indents in the shape of him and the belt’s gone a darker brown from the spit. Some saliva still remains in wet patches and Nick watches, fascinated, as Benji slowly slides his thumb through it, rubbing spit into the leather.

Benji is often someone lost in thought; is often someone caught staring into nothing, eyes hooded and a fist tucked under his chin. It was a bad habit in Nick’s opinion, had always worried at the melancholy nature, especially when he’d been young. Children need enrichment, he’d once tried to tell Bunny, who had threatened his life none too discretely and then he’d stopped giving advice at all.

His daughter was dead and Bunny’s ward wasn’t, so he supposed she had a point.

Nick stays silent as he dries his hands. In the other room, they both can hear the soft voice of the uninjured bandit. He’s bent over the bloody, lanky one, speaking directly into an ear, as if he can hear. This is unsurprising to the doctor. Families of patients often thought it helped, thought they could hear. Nick sometimes toys with the thought of telling them it’s idiotic and embarrassing. Nick gently shuts the door to his living room and cuts them off.

“You know,” he begins, examining his nails to ensure they’re truly clean. He nudges his glasses back up with his knuckles. “Bunny is going to turn them in.” Benji says nothing to this. In tandem with his sulky nature, he is also a talker. He’s funny—Nick likes that about him. Laughs at his own bad jokes, never finds the proper time to shut up, especially in moments when shutting up was probably a good idea.

Nick likes Benji, as far as he can like someone.

“Either to the law,” he continues, raising one scarred hand as if prepared to balance a scale. Benji has not looked away from the belt, but that’s fine. “Or to the Suns.” Nick raises the other hand. Then he transforms it into one raised finger. Benji finally deigns to look away from the teeth marks and the spit and up to him. “The law will take them dead. But, the Suns will want them alive. Perhaps just to kill them, oui. But for Bunny, it will be more lucrative if he lives.”

“Spit it out.”

“I can take care of the boy until he is well once more, you see. But, ah—comment dire—Bunny does not like to hear from me. I think,” Nick pauses to neatly fold the towel and set it aside to be washed. “Someone Bunny will listen to could tell her how much more valuable they might be, if the one lived for a bit longer. You see?”

Benji must. He’s a clever boy. His eyes are on the door, where the young man is set up to sleep until morning, where his bandage will be changed and his stitches checked on as if he is a real patient. Perhaps, Nick will even cook them a breakfast. It’s been long since Mouse left him, and he doesn’t mind cooking for people. He smiles, trying to appear more human to Benji. By the narrowing of his dark, intelligent eyes, it likely doesn’t land.

“You’re up to somethin’,” Benji says, as he slowly threads his belt back on.

“Moi?” Nick puts an offended hand to his chest as he slowly walks them toward the front door of his overly large and mostly empty home. Benji follows, his brows furrowed, his hands opening and closing rhythmically and falling to his side. He glances sideways at Nick, disbelief written across his handsome, lonesome features.

“I will be waking him in the morning,” Nick says as he pulls open his door, to let Benji go free.

“Not my business,” Benji grumbles, passing over the threshold.

[delicateartisantrash]

The Little Details

I got lightheaded today eating a delicious fruit pie, because for one terrible moment, it looks just like the texture of an injury one of my critters had. (She's doing well and healing <3)

So, needless to say, it inspired this little Crosshair drabble.

<•>

You're standing in the kitchen, flour on the counter, on your face, in your hair, and generally disheveled as you stir a large spoon in a big bowl of mashed fruit. The men are off exploring town with their little sister, keeping her entertained and no doubt enjoying the chance to relax, themselves.

In your attempts to be as tidy as possible for a quick clean-up before they get back, you've... Managed to make quite the mess. You stir the jumbled blend of berries and fruit together, the dark red and purple berries quickly overtaking all the colors, turning the rainbow slowly into an even pulp.

It's taking ages though, and your arm and shoulders are getting very tired from using the spoon. You've always done this by hand, so you never bothered to invest in a pestle.

You glance at teh window, noting the first sun is just starting to set. The men should be back soon.

You stare at the uneven, chunky mixture, then quickly clean the spoon off, scraping it clean with the pads of your fingers. You smash your palms into the mix and squeeze, and begin knuckle-kneading-grabby-smashing the fruits into a pulp.

The change in pace and the ease on your arms is immediate, and you grin widely, thinking in delight how you'll be able to surprise Omega and the boys when they come back. You think you'll be able to get it in the oven fast enough, they can question the scent when they come back.

Hunter will probably know exactly what it is, of course, but you think the Sarge will play along for Omega's sake, if not his brothers'.

You humm to yourself as you knead the mixture, already zoned in what you're doing, occasionally cleaning the bigger chunks that get stuck to your arms off to add them to the active mixing area.

A mug shatters on the floor behind you, and something cold splashes against your ankles. Your reaction is immediate as you spin around, heart stuck in your throat, only to find Crosshair staring at you like he's seen a ghost.

You reacted so fast, that you actually catch the last bit of his toothpick's journey to the floor, where it lands without a splash in a thin puddle of coffee. It covers the floor of your kitchen in an impressive splatter strewn with the wreckage of one of the clay cups you served at breakfast this morning.

You had no idea the sniper was still home, he'd been so quiet. You don't think he left with the others and came back -- he may walk with nearly unnatural silence to his steps, but there is no hiding the rusty groan of your entryway door sliding open.

"Are-- Are you okay?" you blurt as you nearly move to rush over to him, your instincts screaming at you that something is wrong and he needs help, except nothing seems to be wrong, and you can't figure out what is so terrifying about your kitchen that he's...

Stars, he's shaking. He's not wearing his full set of armor, just his blacks and part of the leg plates, so it is far more visible than it would have been otherwise. You forget your hesitation, deftly walking around the shattered pottery without having to think overmuch about it, not caring about the coffee getting on your bare feet.

Crosshair's mouth is open like he wants to speak, but he just keeps staring at you with those tortured, panicked eyes. Like he's not certain if he should believe that the things around him are safe. Like he's questioning if you're real.

You want to reach up to touch him, provide some physical form of grounding comfort, because he looks like he's parsecs away from you and wherever that place he's gone is, it's not good. But your hands are covered in goop--

Long fingers wrap around your elbows, just above the fruit stains, with a deliberate strength that startles you into speechlessness as his thumbs hook over the inner bend. He's breathing shallowly, in short, sharp breaths that barely make it past his parted lips.

"Crosshair, what's wron--?"

"You're not hurt?" he says it like he's just seen you get shot dead in front of him, then miraculously come back to life, and something in the way his raspy voice asks that question has a knife twisting in your gut as your heart squeezes painfully.

"No--?" You gasp as the realization hits you. "I'm-- I'm making pie filling, with fruit," you explain breathlessly. You hold your hands up as best you can, the bits of fruit obvious this close up. Crosshair tucks his chin fractionally to stare down at them, his grip on you tightening a fraction.

It's just shy of painful, but you barely even notice.

"I'm okay, I'm not hurt," you assure him gently, repeating it over again until he's finally meeting your gaze with those lost, coppery gems.

"Don't... Don't tell them," he says abruptly, voice hoarse. "About this."

You smile as gently as you can, the only way you know how to face such sharp anxiety, hoping to sooth its jagged edges.

"About what?" you ask quietly, and watch the relief flood his eyes before he lets go of you as quickly as he'd latched on, and takes an awkward step back.

You expect him to leave, but to your surprise, Crosshair immediately turns to work, asking you where the towels and dustpan are as he already knows you don't own any cleaning droids to delegate the task to. You almost tell him that no, it's alright, you'll take care of things--

--but he needs this, you realize; something to do, a task to focus on. So you tell him where they are as you quickly wash your arms and hands off. By the time he's done cleaning up all the bits of pottery, you're discreetly pouring the less-than-perfectly-mashed pie filling into the deep, round crust.

You don't try to be fancy with the top, you get the dough on as fast as possible without being sloppy, and neatly slide it into the oven.

When you turn around, Crosshair is just standing up from the newly cleaned floor. He tosses the used rags into the laundry basket sitting in your hallway, something the men have no doubt seen you do several times during their stay.

"Hey," you say softly. It immediately catches his attention. "If you want to talk, or if you just want company in the silence, I can do either," you invite.

Crosshair fixes you with a long, measured look, then glances away. Before he fully turns to leave the kitchen, his head dips once in a brief, but deliberate, nod you know he knows you saw.

For the rest of their stay, every now and then, you find yourself in the sudden company of the quiet sniper. Particularly when his brothers are being boisterous, as you act like a peaceful shield from their antics. They're too polite risk bothering their host, even Wrecker, who really likes your cooking. Crosshair doesn't say a word, not even a greeting, but he never has to. You smile every time he shows up, a silent invitation, and the edges of his face soften.

[dankusner]

Lulamae Barnes —  child-wife from Tulip, Texas.

"Her name's not Holly. She was a Lulamae Barnes. Was," he said, shifting the toothpick in his mouth, "till she married me. I'm her husband. Doc Golightly. I'm a horse doctor, animal man. Do some farming, too. Near Tulip, Texas. Son, why are you laughin'?"

WHY I HATE AUDREY HEPBURN The Feminine Impossible

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to violence… the word and the act. While violence cloaks itself in a plethora of disguises, its favorite mantle still remains sex.”— Introductory narration to “Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!”

“I don’t try anything, I just do it.” — Tura Satana

“They let ‘em vote, smoke drive and wear pants, and what do we get? A Democrat in the White House.” — Old Man with Shotgun in “Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!”

I am absolutely sick to death of Audrey Hepburn, and the brand of itsy-bitsy adorably posh bourgeois femininity that she represents.

By the end of this essay, I hope you too will harbor fantasies of reanimating her sainted corpse just so you can slap her tiny head around like a Fabergé tether-ball.

As an adult woman, Audrey Hepburn is as highly annoying as mosquitoes trapped in a light bulb.

She is all frailty and richly shined, pampered tininess.

She has that mid-Atlantic accented, tiptoeing voice of the utmost gentility.

She’s an 80 pound weakling who physically looks 11 years old and dresses as though she were at at a strict French convent school, in 5th grade.

It’s not the pedophilia aspect of it that bothers me so much, but the notion that sex with Audrey Hepburn must have been like trying to fuck a Cornish game hen.

Audrey is desireless, sin-free, eternally wanted, an enchanted child who delights her audience in glamorous PG-rated ways.

A renegade princess on the back of a motor scooter in Rome, riding side-saddle.

She was the nun in “A Nun’s Story.”

She was the virgin to Marilyn Monroe’s whore.

In short, Audrey Hepburn is JonBenet Ramsey — an advertisement for a kind of Holy Virgin female that doesn’t, or shouldn’t, exist.

I reject in general the deification of movie starlets who are such delicate-ass little childlike angel fairies, and the pure infantilism they represent, mostly because it is such a nauseatingly conservative political type.

I perhaps expressed my reservations best in my book, “Fear and Clothing,” when describing the kind of Rosemary’s Baby, kinder-whore fashions and ballet flats that always seem to attend Republican administrations, and the utter disdain and contempt Republicans have toward women in general.

I find these fragile and helpless female cues particularly disgusting now, because the Christian zealots of the conservative class are bombing women’s sexuality back to the fucking stone-age.

Audrey Hepburn was never an adult.

Never in her career has Audrey said the word “fuck” on camera.

She’d have sooner ripped her Givenchy gown off at a NASCAR colosseum.

She was far too regal and singular for such vulgar displays of female humanity.

Not Audrey.

Audrey crosses her legs and her ankles.

She’s your mother prays to St. Bernadette for you to bring home.

In terms of lust ignition, she’s somewhere on the spectrum between a harpsichord and an acorn squash.

Audrey never fucks.

She has no rebellion, no wrongful desires.

Now that I have actual human nieces, and the usual amount of protective fears for them,I’m starting to think that a better role model for young women than Audrey Hepburn is Tura Satana in Russ Meyer’s salacious classic cult hit, “Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!”

In“Faster Pussycat! Kill! KIll!” Three treacherously buxom go-go dancers with fast cars speed around playing chicken on salt flats and getting in hair-pulling cat fights.

Sure it’s prurient, but they’re in on the prurience — they’re driving it.

They’re getting kicks, man.

It’s a weaponized kind of femininity that makes its own rules.

They move their stallion bodies around like great battleships.

Tura Satana, wearing short leather gloves and driving a dusty bathtub Porsche, challenges a strange man to a fist-fight, and wins it when she karate-chops him to death with her bare hands. It is exhilarating.

(Confessional Sidebar: The first time I saw the movie “True Romance,” there is a moment when Patricia Arquette is being beaten up all over a hotel room by would-be assailant Tom Sizemore. When she finally gets the best of the situation and blows his head off, her teeth are bloody, and she is screaming. The first time I saw it, in a theater, my soul actually left my body in some kind of wrongful elation, and I saw myself sitting far below.)

Is effective self-defense not something we should be teaching women, who have been being raped since the dawn of time?

Should our daughters not be taught to be delicate flowers, but lethal?

The only reason Tura Satana would be loitering outside the window at Tiffany’s is if there was a brick in her purse.

She has other fish to fry.

And don’t even talk to me about the women in Kill Bill compared to Audrey Hepburn.

The only thing Audrey Hepburn would be in Tarantino’s world is kindling.

They’d use Audrey’s tiny tapered fingers to stuff special child bullets.

She’d find everything so unsafe and pointy, she would fix her tiny chin in a heroic direction and her lip would tremble, and violins would swell as a single crystalline tear fell down her flawless cheekbone.

Tura Satana wouldn’t be on the back of any man’s scooter.

She would have her own motorcycle, like Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill,” a film which I have adored ever since a friend of mine described it as a “metaphor for female emotional survival.”

The women in “Faster, Pussycat” are masters of the art of survival.

They own themselves sexually and can fuck up anyone who fucks with them.

They have their own goals and missions, that don’t involve men, and generally involves stomping on them.

Audrey Hepburn is always being dragged hither and yon across a vast expanse of enthusiastically polite, gentlemanly, chaste male suitors, or worse, men who transform her into someone reflecting their own ideals.

Tura Satana fucks strangers in barns. Anyway, the point is: she’s in charge.

[dragonmuse]

Okokokok I'm absolutely in love with she said love don't come easy, how do you keep doing this to meeeeee (thank you). Whina would absolutely go to a show at the Revenge, right??

(Thank you! this is actually, very quietly, warm up for a main storyline bit, so I'm very happy it went over. Regency first then, time for feels! Here's Whina at the show for you.)

"You're sure I look...appropriate?" Whina asked.

She had dressed up a little for tonight. The dress was new, a little scoop-necked, the pattern a deep blue and green chevron. The cardigan was a gift from Eddy, a silvery grey that dusted down almost to her ankles. The shoes were older, but Izzy had never seen them before, a pair of kitten heels. Her hair was loose, a grey and white cloud around her face and shoulders. There was even makeup which Izzy hadn't been sure she owned, a dusty pink lipstick and mascara.

"You look better than half the people on the stage," he said and meant it entirely. "Real challenge will be staying awake."

She was halfway through a yawn and sent him a peeved look.

"Don't tease. I took a nap and drank coffee with lunch. This is best we're getting."

He drove her into the city and let her choose the music. She didn't fidget because that wasn't her way, but her nerves radiated through the air anyway.

"I should've come before," she murmured as they got close. "Why did I put it off so long?"

"It's new," Izzy glanced at her. "Freaked me out the first few times. You don't have to like it."

Whina nodded once, said no more.

They got there well before the show and he took her to the bar where Lucius was waiting.

"Heya!" he smiled at her. "Let me guess...you're a martini lady."

"How'd you know?" She blinked.

"I had insider intel," he admitted. "I pumped Eddy for information. How many olives do you like?"

"How many can I have?" She asked impishly.

Lucius delivered her drink with two of them speared on a toothpick and a small dish of several more for snacking. Izzy was given what looked like radioactive waste in a glass and a quick kiss, before he was off down the bar.

"Let's get a table," Whina decided and Izzy gave up his usual barstool. They got closer to the stage and settled in. Whina ate an olive, and then looked upwards. "Stede does love a little bit over the top. Two chandeliers?"

"He's a mad man," Izzy agreed.

"It's nicer than the bars I went to back in the day."

"You liked a dive bar?"

"Like is a strong word for it. My girlfriends and I would go for quarter shots night."

"You did?"

"I had a youth too, you know."

The lights dimmed after a few minutes and Lucius was on the PA. Whina did smile at his opening lines and set down her drink, folding her hands her lap. Izzy braced himself.

Leda House was in full regalia tonight, big sweeping gown, towering wig and big paint.

"That's Stede?" Whina whispered eyes wide.

"That's Leda," Izzy nodded.

And Leda launched into "I Am Woman" with gusto, prancing around the stage.

"Oh, I love this song," Whina pressed a hand to her chest.

A seed of suspicion planted in Izzy's chest.

Roach cartwheeled onto the stage with "Ballroom Blitz", the chainsaw sending sparks out over the audience as the soundtrack wailed. Whina's eyes went wide and her drink had definitely been forgotten.

Ethel and Pete juggled mirrored balls to "You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)" and the seed sprouted into a full born plant.

"I saw them working on those costumes!" Whina realized. "Oh, I like how they turned out. They can move very fast, can't they?"

"Yeah, fast footwork," Izzy agreed neutrally.

Teal crossed the stage, her saloon girl outfit traded for a glistening robe, the feathers dripping from cuffs, hem and fluffed up around the neck. She launched into her usual spiel about saving tipping for the end.

"Why?" Whina frowned. "What's going to- oh!"

The knife went flying across the stage. Whina grabbed Izzy's wrist.

"They've never missed," Izzy told her firmly.

"I should hope not!"

Frenchie's hammy rendition of "I'll Always Love You" eased the mood a little and Izzy was at this point rolling his eyes. The audience ate it up though, singing along and clearly enjoying having a whole new slate of numbers unexpectedly.

"And now," Lucius' voice boomed over the PA, "our siren of the deep, our beastly mistress, the tentacles of wonder, let us all say-"

"RELEASE THE KRAKEN!" The audience yelled along with him.

Whina's grip on Izzy's wrist tightened.

The Kraken took the stage. The dress was a deeper shade of red tonight, a ruched up affair that showed off a lot of leg. The wig was black with matching red streaks and cascaded long and loose to their waist. Tentacles writhed and she took center stage. Eyes front. Not seeking.

"At first I was afraid," the music began,the Kraken lipsynching. "I was petrified..."

The audience cheered. Whina's hand returned to Izzy's arm, he couldn't really make out her expression in the dark.

"Never thought I could live without you by my side," one hand swept out slowly, tentacles dancing along with it. "But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong....And I grew strong..."

The Kraken sucked in a breath, "And I learned how to get along!"

She threw up both arms, a rain of silver glitter tumbling from her hands.

Izzy had seen the Kraken dance, and tonight was a spectacular showcase of her talents. She didn't do nearly as many tricks as Frenchie or Roach, she didn't have a stunt talent like Ethel or the Menace. She just danced with all of the energy that powered her. And dismantled her costume as she loved to do, shard of red silk peeling away to crystal encrusted glory until she ended the number breathing hard, and shining as bright as a diamond.

The lights came back a minute or so later. Whina's eyes were damp and her other hand was clapped over her mouth. Her other one was holding Izzy's arms so tightly that her fingers must be cramped.

"We can go, if you want," Izzy said tightly, already trying to figure out damage control on that if need be.

"No," Whina gasped out, hand falling away. "We used to sing that. Eddy and me. After...oh, my girl. Can we go see her or is she hidden away somewhere?"

"We can go," Izzy decided. Fuck the rest of them. "Come on."

They didn't have to actually breech the dressing room. Eddy was lingering behind the curtain. The tentacles were gone, but otherwise, they were still in full gear, Leda hovering behind them.

"Eddy," Whina took the steps with speed.

"Mama, did you-" Eddy started and then was cut off as Whina hugged her. Eddy made a soft pained noise, and hugged her back, even more ludicrously tall than the poor woman than usual in her heels.

"You're so beautiful," Whina said, her voice shaky.

"Thanks," Eddy managed, clinging to her.

Leda stepped carefully around them and wound up standing next to Izzy.

"You're a manipulative asshole," Izzy informed her.

"I don't know what you mean," Leda scoffed. "I just put on a nice show."

"Those were all songs off her favorites list," Izzy rolled his eyes. "Did you assign them out?"

"Everyone was very willing to help out, thank you very much," Leda said tartly. "It wasn't manipulation, it was a gesture."

"It worked whatever the fuck it was."

Eddy had pulled back a little, talking animatedly now and Whina was gazing up at her, listening intently.

"Should we give them some space?" Leda sighed.

"Probably," Izzy conceded.

Izzy didn't see Whina again for an hour. He went back to the bar, and it was almost a normal Friday night again, lingering while Lucius mixed drinks and Frenchie led karaoke.

Eventually, Eddy, entirely de-dragged, and Whina turned back up.

"Iz, can you drive Mama home before she turns into a pumpkin?"

Whina sighed, "Annoyingly, I am actually very tired."

"Then let's hit the road," Izzy slid off the barstool.

She was so quiet for the first half of the drive that Izzy thought she might've actually dozed off.

"I wish I'd gone earlier," she said quietly. "I should've gone the very first time they asked. What was I so afraid of?"

"New stuff," Izzy nodded. "Can be tough."

"Foolish. The first thing Eddy really wanted me to see of them in years and I was so scared of it. But she's just beautiful and funny and talented."

"Yeah," Izzy agreed helplessly. "She is."

"Will you take me again in a few weeks?"

"Yeah, of course."

And in a few months, he'd pick her up bright and early. Take her to the summer festival where she and Nana would have a frankly frightening meeting of minds.

And by the end of the performance, she'd be in tears, clinging to Izzy's arm again as Stede got down on one knee. Holding him in place so they could witness it all together.

[anonymous-astronaut]

idk if you're still doing these but could we get what the mercs would be like playing mini golf together?

The Mercs vs Minigolf

Please keep in mind I haven’t been golfing in like a decade

Scout: He thought there was gonna be a golf cart he could drive around, but the course is too small for that. He gets over his disappointment fast though because he it feels like he’s at an amusement part with the windmills and like waterfalls or whatever. He has no idea how to golf, but he has fun navigating the course and doesn’t any pay any attention to how many times he has to hit the ball.

Soldier: Hits it as hard as he possibly can. Looses more golf balls than anyone has on the course before, and probably breaks a turbine off the windmill. He doesn’t make a single hole before getting frustrated and moving on to the next one, which he also never makes. Accidentally clocks Demo in the face with his club on the backswing and nearly knocks out his other eye.

Pyro: Over the moon about the wacky castles and like dinosaurs and stuff on the course. They like when it goes though the windmill and disappears for a bit before coming out the other side. They insist on carrying the clubs and wearing a funky little golfing hat, and have a gentle hand when putting so they actually do a decent job.

Engie: He’s little underwhelmed, thinks the attractions could be more complicated or cooler. He desperately tries to keep everyone’s score at first, but no one else really cares about that part much and some people have to hit it so many damn times that eventually he gives up and just keeps his own score.

Demo: He loves golf! He’s much better at covering distance, but he doesn’t mind practicing his short game either. He loves the little castles and starts talking about some of the real castles he’s visited back home. Probably does something stupid like try’s to hit an apple off Soldiers head with a golfball and nearly knocks him out. Joins Pyro in wearing a funky little golfing hat.

Heavy: He’s never been golfing before, but he likes it well enough. He secretly likes the tiny dinosaurs, and thinks the laid back quality of the game makes it fun and relaxing. Would way rather play golf for leisure than football or something. Likes yelling golf terms like “fore” and “birdie” even though he isn’t entirely sure what they mean.

Medic: He is pretty good at regular golf, but has never played minigolf before. He thinks it’s absolutely hilarious and is very amused by all the fun little obstacle courses. Likes to show off his skills and will offer tips to anyone who wants them, but is equally happy to watch people fail miserably and snicker in the background.

Sniper: The venue ran out of adult size clubs and he was too embarrassed to ask someone to trade, so now he’s stuck with a kiddie sized club. This man is bent completely in half tryin his damndest to golf with the equivalent of a fricken toothpick. This is one sport his good aim is not carrying him in, he can still make it in the hole but he definitely has trouble hitting the ball in the first place. If it’s on grass he’s digging himself a little hole right behind the golfball.

Spy: Has no idea what he’s doing and is trying very hard to pretend that he does. He doesn’t like children and they are running rampant, much to his displeasure. He thinks the dinosaurs and windmills are tacky, and would much prefer regular golfing if he has to go golfing at all. Hits the ball like he’s afraid to break his delicate bones.