#At The End Of The Day WHO IS HEAD HONCHO IN YOUR HEART figured it out gang

[todayisafridaynight]

dodging-the-question ass type of answer i have to lay down

[masked-alien-lesbian]

Astoria Yao x Fern Leatherberry (florist OC)

No one asked for this lol but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop imagining rough and abrupt Astoria growing soft for Crimson Beech florist even if she is human.

A Rose and a Storm Cloud

It was probably the worst day of the year in Astoria's opinion. She'd rather deal with the Summer Solstice than today, Valentine's Day. She was a dark malevolent cloud storming the bright pink and red decorated hallways looking for someone to yell at. Surely that would make her feel better. Suddenly a slight figure collided into her.

She stood shell shocked at the beautiful dainty woman pressed up against her, wreathed in the bouquets of flowers that she was holding. The woman smiles apologetically, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Forgive me, hun, I'm a bit late so I was going too fast down the hallway."

Astoria frowns and easily pulls the woman off of her. "Watch where you're going! I'd expect my students to run in the hallway but not a grown adult."

"Well excuse me! Someone is having a bad day." The woman calls after Astoria who froze in her tracks. She turns around slowly, with the look that usually struck fear in most of her students as well as her coven members and yet this insolent human stared back unafraid, heart not even racing. Astoria walked right up in the woman's space to try to intimidate her.

"Do you know who I am?" Astoria sneers.

"Principal Yao. Head honcho here at Crimson Beech High. I pretty much know most of the people here by now since I set up my flower shop 3 years ago." The woman says unfazed.

"Then you know I'm an important member of the Crimson Beech council, I could have your little flower shop cited for any reason! I could have you run out of this town! Black balled--" Suddenly Astoria sputters to a stop when the woman suddenly tucks a rose behind her ear.

"There on the house. Perhaps that will brighten your day, Principal Grumpy." The woman says smiling brightly at the vampire choking on her own words. "Now I really must be on my way. I have to deliver at least 15 more bouquets before school ends today." She says before almost gliding down the hallway.

"This isn't over, Miss-Miss...." Astoria says angrily. The woman turns around with a giddy smile on her face.

"Fern. My name is Fern. And I'm counting on it." Fern says before turning a corner and disappearing out of sight. Astoria stands there shocked for a moment before realizing there were students staring at her.

"What are you looking at? Get to class before I give you all detention!" Astoria snarls.

Later on she was staring at an address on a slip of paper. Perhaps it was time to pay Fern a visit. There was no way Astoria was going to let a little human best her.

🖤🖤🖤🌹🖤🖤🖤🌹🖤🖤🖤🌹🖤🖤🖤🌹🖤🖤🖤

[et-lesailes]

nice & tight

pairing: mobster!steve x virgin!reader

word count: 4283

summary: you are best friends with steve’s stepdaughter, but you’ve had a crush on steve for as long as you can remember-- despite his notorious reputation as a gang leader.

themes: smut, age gap

taglist:@evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16​, @straightforwardly​,  @denisemarieangelina​,  @frencchfries​, @xlanawriter​, @littlemoistcarrot​, @pottxrwolff​, @arianatheangelworld​, @ifuseekamyevans​, @southerngracela​, @nsfwsebbie​, @rororo06​, @savemesteeb​

notes: patreon saw it first! be sure to join if you’d like early access to my one shots as well as unreleased ones as well ~ i hope you guys like this, i know it’s been a while since i’ve posted a good ol’ smutty fic! graphic creds go to @thewritingdoll​!

You were sitting at the pool with your legs dangling in the water, though you weren’t interested in the partying going on before you. While everyone was drunkenly dancing around the massive yard or engaging in a huge chicken fight in the water, your eyes were casually flickering towards the windows of the mansion, teeth tugging on your lower lip.

You practically grew up in the Rogers’ household. Your own parents were often away on business trips, and your best friend Ciara Rogers basically ended up becoming your sister when her mother and stepfather extended their home to you whenever your parents were traveling for long periods of time. However, Ciara’s stepfather was not any normal working man. 

Steve Rogers was a mobster, and a damn good one at that. He was the head honcho of his crew of men, hence the reason he had the money to buy and maintain such a huge home. Even the police in the area wouldn’t dare mess with him, and it wasn’t as though they had reason to- whatever Steve did, he was clever about doing it. He’d leave not one piece of evidence or reason to be suspicious, and so he got away with pretty much… anything.

You didn’t know exactly what he did. He wouldn’t particularly be sharing these details over a family dinner with his young stepdaughter and her friend. Whatever it was, he wanted his family out of it, and that was understandable. Still, no matter what his occupation was, you couldn’t help yourself- you had had a crush on the man since you were practically twelve, finding him to be exciting yet gentlemanly at the same time. You followed him around like a little puppy, and he simply found it cute and amusing. Ciara wasn’t even fazed; she had been raised in the gang life ever since she was a baby. She had seen relationships and sexual endeavors much worse and far more messed up- her own parents’ marriage was actually an open one, and so she had been used to each of them having other partners her entire life. Whenever she’d catch you staring at her dad, she’d simply laugh, roll her eyes and shake her head to herself. 

Now, however, you were nineteen. A nineteen-year-old virgin, to be exact, and there was only one person whom you wanted to fix that. The kitchen lights turned on and your own eyes lit up as well. You stood up, looking down at your body. You had worn your skimpiest bikini, and it certainly wasn’t for the college boys who had been ogling you all night. Glancing around and seeing that Ciara was busy making out with someone clearly at least ten years older than her, you shook off the water from your feet before making your way to the door to the kitchen.

There stood Steve wearing nothing but a black wifebeater and jeans, rubbing his bearded jaw as he opened the fridge-- probably looking for a beer, no doubt. He grumbled something incoherently and you made a point of closing the door behind you for him to hear, a light smirk upon your face. “Sorry, the boys probably got to ‘em. There’s more bottles in the fridge in the garage, though, Ciara and I made sure to keep the garage door shut so your cars wouldn’t get ruined.” He turned to you, eyebrow raised in slight amusement. “Am I that much of an alcoholic that you knew I was looking for a beer?” he spoke in a naturally gruff tone, and you shamelessly nodded your head-- this was someone you had practically lived with for years, you didn’t have to try to be polite. “What can I say? I know you pretty well.” You murmured, making your voice as silky and airy as possible. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander over his muscled arms; even his pecs were practically rippling through the thin piece of clothing covering his chest. Could Ciara really blame you for being so attracted to him? The man could snap you in half with one hand, and for some damn reason, you loved that.

“Wanna walk with me?” you asked before he could respond, smiling innocently. “I was gonna get a drink too.” You took the opportunity to go ahead first, blatant about wiggling your ass in your tiny bikini bottoms for him as he followed behind. It would be too obvious to look back and see if he was staring, but God, you hoped he was. You wanted him to see you as an adult. Not the little girl who rushed to sit next to him at dinner or asked him about a million questions a day just for the purpose of talking to and being near him. The two of you entered the large garage and you switched the lights on, revealing his several prized luxury vehicles. You weren’t even the type of girl who was attracted to materialistic things, but you’d be lying if you didn’t think it was sexy that Steve had so much money. 

“You didn’t seem like you were having too much fun out there.” Steve noted, leaning against the wall as you opened the fridge. “Mm? Were you watching me?” you asked nonchalantly, though you were secretly delighted. Was he finally coming around to the fact that you were a woman now? If not, you now had the opportunity to prove it even more-- his beloved beer was on the bottom shelf, and so you did not hesitate to bend over to reach for two bottles. 

A scoff escaped his throat, his blues lingering on your ass shamelessly. “Bit hard not to when you’re strutting around in nothing but a few strings holding everything together.” He replied boldly, and you barely widened your eyes though couldn’t help but feel triumphant. So he did notice your body. You straightened back up and turned to face him, your demeanor cool and slightly seductive. “Would you rather me wear a turtleneck to a pool party?” you teased, handing him the bottle. He smirked, nodding for you to follow him back into the kitchen. “Maybe if it’s a party of horny, inexperienced boys, yeah. I don’t think they even know how to handle themselves around you, sweetheart.” 

The word “inexperienced” stood out, suddenly making you feel a little self-conscious. What would he think when he found out you were, too? Sure, you had done other stuff with boys in the past, but would he think it was lame that you were a virgin? He was a gang leader, for Christ’s sake, he probably had perfect, sexually talented girls all over him every single week. However, you quickly shook the thoughts away. Ciara had once told you that men loved virgins. They loved how tight they were, and they loved the idea of taking away their innocence. You hoped this applied to Steve.

“What do you mean?” you asked, curious nonetheless; he took a bottle opener from a drawer and motioned for you to hand yours over, and you obliged. “I mean they probably think squeezing a girl’s tits like a goddamn sponge or practically scooping her vagina out with their fingers makes her orgasm.” He answered bluntly, opening your bottle and sliding it back over the marble island before opening his own. “Those schoolboys wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you even if you gave ‘em a fucking manual.”

You took the bottle, taking a sip before nonchalantly leaning to rest your elbow on the counter, purposefully squeezing your chest together in your bikini. “A girl like me?” you repeated, your voice a little softer as you looked up at him with a small smirk. “And what kind of girl am I, Steve?” He studied you for a few moments, his eyes slightly darker as he stepped closer to you. Your heart was pounding now. Were you finally going to get your chance tonight? No, you couldn’t get your hopes up. You had been trying for this ever since you turned eighteen, and nothing yet. You were starting to think Steve simply wasn’t into significantly younger women, or perhaps he saw you as too much of a daughter figure.

“The kind of girl that’s been a little fucking tease, and clearly trying to get me in trouble with my wife.” Steve replied, his voice an octave lower as his eyes locked onto yours-- you almost had to look away from how intense they were. “Oh, please,” you whispered, trying to sound as confident as possible. “I know you guys have an open marriage. I’ve literally seen her giving head to your damn pool boy.” You retorted, straightening your body but remaining close to his. “She wouldn’t care.”

“Mm. You’re different.” He hummed, his voice still low as he took a sip of his beer, though kept his eyes on you afterwards. “You’re her daughter’s best friend. Which, I see, doesn’t seem to be of any concern to you…?” he remarked; at first, you felt a pang of guilt, but as you looked up into his eyes, you didn’t see any disgust or sense of reprimanding. 

If you were reading him right, he was... turned on by this.

“It’s not.” You murmured straightforwardly, reaching for your beer and taking a large gulp before stepping even closer to him, boldly reaching out to run your fingers over his muscular biceps. Your heart was still racing, but your gut was telling you that this was going to work. “She doesn’t have to know. And even if she did find out, we both know she’s seen and done a lot worse.” To be honest, you weren’t quite sure how Ciara would react. Sure, she tolerated your crush on her father, but she probably didn’t think you’d ever act on it. The guilt came back for a second, but when Steve suddenly leaned down close, every thought in your brain disappeared. “As her father, I should probably be more concerned about what exactly you’re referring to when you say that, but you’re so fucking naughty you’re distracting me from even that responsibility.” He growled into your ear, and you had to physically force yourself to breathe normally. “Yeah? And do you have a problem with that?” you whispered, slowly turning your head to face his. Your lips were now inches apart, and at this point, if he didn’t have his way with you, you’d be mad. His eyes were practically boring through your own, almost as if testing your confidence and boldness to go through with this-- and you weren’t going to fail. You stared right back, even slowly running your tongue over your lips. “The only problem I have right now, darling,” he drawled deeply, “is that I’m rock hard because of you and you’re not doing anything about it.”

Before you knew it, he was scooping you up into his arms, lips on yours in an almost violent kiss as he easily carried you towards the staircase. You gasped in surprise but did not hesitate to kiss him back, happily allowing him access when his tongue pushed its way into your mouth. You slid one hand down to rub his bulge, and you almost squeaked in the middle of the kiss; he was certainly not lying about being hard, and he already felt big. You were starting to wonder what you had gotten yourself into, but you were immensely turned on at the same time.

He carried you into his grand master bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it. “You know,” he murmured as he tugged on your lower lip with a devious smirk, “my wife has a rule about bringing other partners into the bed, but I’m going to make you an exception.” You couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly, letting out a squeal when he suddenly tossed you onto the bed. You sat on your knees, looking up at him with flushed cheeks. “Oh? What did I do to deserve such an honor?” you teased, slowly playing with the strings of your bikini top. He watched hungrily, eyes remaining on your breasts as he muttered, “Oh, I don’t know, persistently tease the fuck out of me for the past year?”

You blinked, looking up at him hopefully. “You noticed?” He scoffed as he stepped closer, unbuckling his pants and palming at his bulge through his briefs with a low grunt. “Of course I fucking noticed. The way you’d wiggle that perfect ass just for me to see, or how you’d change with the door wide fuckin’ open. You were only being a little damn obvious.” He lowered his underwear and you couldn’t even respond to his observations-- you were too focused on being utterly shocked by his large, throbbing erection. It was safe to say you were a little intimidated.

He noticed this and smirked proudly, cocking his head as he suddenly tangled his fingers in your hair. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You’re not too scared now, are you?” he teased with mock sympathy, his other hand pumping his shaft. “No!” you instantly exclaimed, a little too fast. He barely lifted a brow and you cleared your throat. “N-no, no, I’ve just… never seen one as big as yours before…” You mentally cursed to yourself; you needed to tell him you were a virgin, especially if he was using that thing-- there was no way you wouldn’t bleed. He didn’t seem to catch on. “Of course you haven’t. You’re so used to those scrawny boys too busy spending Mommy and Daddy’s money to pleasure a girl instead of knowing how to use their damn bodies. Has anyone even been able to make you finish before, princess?”

You bit your lip. Sure, you had been fingered and eaten out, but you had never reached your climax. He was right; the boys you were used to were useless. “I’ll take that as a no.” Steve stated after simply seeing your expression, shaking his head to himself before suddenly nodding authoritatively. “Well. Looks like we’ve got to make up for lost time, then.” He pushed you onto your back on the bed, hovering over you as he moved his mouth down to your neck, sucking roughly. You gasped in pleasure, tilting your head and letting out little whimpers-- and then you suddenly felt his fingers brush up your bare thigh, reaching your bikini bottoms and rubbing at your entrance slowly yet firmly. You couldn’t help but moan, tilting your head back and gripping the bedsheets with curled fists. You were so damn sensitive as it was, and with how skilled he appeared to be with the simplest of movements, you had the feeling he was definitely going to stick to his word. “That’s right, baby. Moan for me. Tell me you like it. Are you all wet for me?” he growled into your skin, and you nodded desperately as you rubbed your thighs together. “Y-yes, yes Steve, I’m wet! P-please, I want your fingers…”

He chuckled deeply and moved the skimpy piece of swimwear aside, rubbing your clit with his thumb. ���Patience, baby girl. Patience. I’m going to teach you how a real man does it.” You widened your eyes, moans becoming louder as he toyed with the highly responsive bundle of nerves, your breathing becoming airier. He pulled back to watch your face, clearly turned on from what he was seeing. “Damn. Those boys really had no idea what they were doing. How did they even fuck you, flop around on top of you like a dead fucking fish?” You were in too much of a daze to even feel nervous about the subject being brought up-- he soon pushed a finger inside you, pumping slowly as his thumb still flicked your clit. “Fuck. You are tight.” He noted with a low growl, his eyes studying your facial features as he moved his broad finger deeper. You could only reply with a whimper, barely beginning to rock your hips. He smirked and inserted another finger; you were only in discomfort for a few seconds before he began moving them expertly, letting you adjust. “Steve!” you gasped, instinctively reaching down to grip his wrist, though you were not trying to stop him. “Th-that… that feels good… m-more, please,” you begged, completely shocked; you had no idea that fingering could actually feel… nice. You really had been played by boys who had no idea what they were doing.

He kept pumping faster and deeper, fondling your clit even harder than before. “Mm fuck, you like that, don’t you sweetheart? You gonna cum for me, you naughty girl? Come on, let go. Show me how good that made you feel.” Your whines became more high pitched as you felt yourself getting close, your walls clenching around him and your back lifting off the mattress; you let yourself release with a loud gasp, completely breathless as you stared at him in awe. He simply removed his fingers nonchalantly, sticking them into his mouth and sucking as he looked at you with a cocky smirk. “Fucking delicious. I think I need more. But you know what I also need?” 

He moved to your side to lay on his back, grabbing you and pulling you on top of him. You let out a little squeal, breathing heavily as you stared down at his face. “Wh-what?” you asked, and he smirked, making a “turn around” gesture with his finger demandingly. “Your lips wrapped around my cock, baby girl.” You almost let out a sigh of relief, glad to avoid the subject of your virginity for just a little longer-- you were great at blow jobs, you could handle this. You turned around, your ass hovering over his face as you leaned forward to pump him with a little smirk. “Yes, sir,” you purred, delighted to already hear the little grunts escaping his lips. You leaned down and gave his bulbous tip small kitten licks, making a point to wiggle your butt for him as you slowly began to take him into your mouth. Fuck, he was thick, but you were desperate to please him as much as you could. You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down fitting in as much of him as you could. He brought his hands up to your ass, lowering your bottoms to squeeze and grope hard making you moan along his shaft, sending vibrations up his length; he groaned as he bucked his hips upwards, muttering in an almost guttural growl, “That’s it, baby girl, fuck you’re so good.”

Thriving off his praise and noises of approval, you kept sucking him off, your tongue up the vein along his underside-- and then you suddenly felt him pull your ass down, your mouth releasing his dick with a ‘pop’ in surprise. “Ste-” you started to question, but you lost your voice as you felt his tongue swipe across your wet slit, your body shuddering slightly. “O-oh…”

“Keep going, baby,” he commanded, his tongue flicking at your entrance teasingly, “but relax your body. Ride my face like a good girl so I can have another taste.” You lowered your butt obediently, feeling somewhat bad to be smothering him, but you soon realized he was clearly not bothered by this. As you took him back into your mouth, he slowly pushed his tongue inside, moving it around lightly yet skillfully as he explored your wetness. His hands were still roughly palming at your ass, even slapping each cheek every now and then. You loved and hated it at the same time; you were the one who wanted to be giving him pleasure, and now you were very much distracted by that thanks to him. You did your best to focus as you pumped his base, playing with his balls as you sucked hard; when you felt his lips suck at your clit, though, you almost lost it. “Steve!” you let out a muffled moan, mouth half off his length, and he simply groaned in response, attacking it even harder. You came and you blushed feeling him lap it all up, your legs quivering slightly. You had never experienced anything like this before; he made you cum before you made him, despite the fact you were literally sucking his dick? You suddenly questioned your talents and experience, feeling nervous again. What if you were the worst he’d ever had? 

Almost as if he read your mind, he let out a little groan as he felt your hand work his base, your lips wrapped around his thick length. “Shit, sweetheart. As wonderful as your mouth is, I’m not interested in coming there. For now, anyways.” He sat up and you took your mouth off obediently, shifting to get back on your knees on the bed looking up at him breathlessly. The way he was looking at you was practically carnal- fuck, you had to speak now. He removed his shirt with one swift movement, then grabbed you and pushed you down on your back again, hovering over your smaller frame with a devious smirk as he pumped himself. “I’ve been waiting for this for a while now, you know that? You grew up to be so fucking sexy, it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Steve,” you suddenly blurted out, looking up at his face (which proved to be very challenging considering the fact his glorious abs were now revealed), “I-I’ve never… um… had sex before…” you practically whispered the last part, but he heard it. He blinked, his expression changing slightly, the smirk fading. “You’re a virgin, baby girl? Fuck.” He muttered, though he did not move as he stared down into your eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I-- I thought if you knew, you wouldn’t find me attractive,” you admitted shyly, slowly reaching up to hold onto his biceps. “But I want to do this, Steve, I swear, I want you to be my first. Please. You said yourself, the boys I know wouldn’t know how to handle me, right? So you do it, you show me how it’s done, I-- I know you’ll make me feel good.” He looked down at you somewhat incredulously, letting out a soft scoff. “You thought I wouldn’t find you attractive? Hm. Baby.” He shook his head to himself. “I can’t think of anything better than being able to fuck that sweet, tight pussy and have you cum over and over for me again, whether you’re a virgin or not. As long as you’re giving me the okay.” He reached over to the nightstand, opening the drawer and taking out a bottle. “But I think we might need this.” You watched him open the lube with wide eyes, whispering, “Is it going to hurt?”

He looked down at you honestly, nodding his head murmuring naturally gruff, “A little. But I’ll make it feel good, sweetheart, I promise. You trust me, don’t you?” You immediately nodded your head. “Yes. Yes, I do. I-- I want you to fuck me, Steve, please.”

He was right-- it definitely hurt. He had been generous with the lube, considering the size of his length, but it took a while for him to enter even slightly deeper inside you; you were extremely tight and sensitive, after all, but he managed to be patient. His teeth were grit and his jawline was tense as he watched you, moving his hand to wipe tears from your cheek. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and you shook your head immediately. “N-no, no, I’ll be fine.” You took a deep breath, just barely rocking your hips, letting yourself get used to his size.

It wasn’t long before you found out he was right again. It felt good. It felt great. He was soon moving his hips harder and faster and you were gladly rocking yours back against his, gasping and moaning in ecstasy as you tilted your head back. You didn’t care if anyone heard you, though you doubted it; his room was facing the front, and besides, the music playing for the party in the backyard was loud. All you cared about was him fucking you, making you feel euphoric with every thrust and groan that escaped from the back of his throat. “You’re so goddamn tight baby, fuck it feels good,” he growled, moving his hand to practically push up your bikini top and massage your breasts. “Shit, even your tits are perfect. I’m pissed at myself for not doing this sooner, you know that?” You could only moan in response, arching your back towards him as he toyed with your nipple in his fingers. He smirked weakly, pounding into you even harder. “God, I love watching you come undone just for me, baby girl… I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.” 

You were a breathless mess by the end of it all. Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans practically becoming screams, your nails digging into his bare back. He groaned loudly and pulled out, releasing his load all over your torso. You were panting as your eyes drifted along the thick, white streaks upon your stomach, slowly lying your arms down by your sides as you caught your breath. He moved to lay by your side, a smirk crossing his lips as he admired your features, clearly pleased you were so worn out because of him. “How was that for your first time, hm, sweetheart?”

You slowly turned your face towards him, your eyes staring at him in amazement as you tried to control your breathing. “I couldn’t have imagined it any better,” you whispered, smiling in excitement. “Thank you.”

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

that sooga gangbang with the zora boys was SOOO GOOOD, what about a sandwich including sooga kohga AND sidon, any way youd like

I gotchu king, you know I love your requests. Let’s go!

“Kohga! Sooga!”

When Kohga was told Sidon came over for a surprise visit, he didn’t think they were serious. But there he was, smiling Sidon present, and waving wildly. Kohga motioned for the guards to step aside, letting him in. Sidon immediately went for a hug, though Kohga DID notice Sooga got a longer hug. Not that he blamed them. Ever since that heat rut a month or so ago, these two seemed closer than ever. Not that Kohga minded, he liked seeing them together. Kohga chuckled once their hug parted.

“What do we owe the pleasure, fish sticks?”

“I have brought a gift, and it could NOT wait till your next visit to the domain! Figured I’d come to visit!”

Sooga nodded, seeming pleased. Sooga enjoyed Sidon’s company, and it was evident, given how he didn’t silence his sunny companion.

“Well, we’re honored, truly. I hope the gerudo didn’t give you too many problems.”

“Well, they were...touchy, but otherwise kind women!”

Kohga snickered.

“They grabbed your ass, didn’t they?”

“One of them did, yes.”

“Knew it. Come on in, come on in, let’s get you something to drink.”

“So hospitable, Kohga! Thank you!”

You could give this guy a piece of flint and he’d thank you till the day he died. Sidon followed them both, lightly humming as he did just that. Sooga slowed down a bit to look at the sack on his back.

“I take it that’s the present?”

“Oh yes! It’s VERY fragile though, you’ll have to wait till we’ve settled down!”

Thankfully that wasn’t very long of a wait. Kohga brought him to the guest room, and after setting out some snacks and tea, Sidon took the sack off his back, and put it on the table, gently pushing it towards Kohga.

“Go on! Open it! I really hope you’ll like it!”

Kohga tore away at the cloth, revealing a small statue. Made from luminus stone, it was a rather well crafted statue of Master Kohga himself. Kohga held it in his hands, and his legs couldn’t stop moving in his excitement.

“No. Way. No WAY! I look GOOD in luminous stone!”

“You look good everyday, Master Kohga.”

“Flattery gets you everywhere, Sooga. Imma go put this in my room, you two wait here for a second!”

Kohga was practically jumping as he made his way back to his room. He placed it on his nightstand, giving it a good look over. They even sculpted his mask just right. He wanted to sit here and admire it all day, but he had company over. He made his way back to the hallway, and was about to enter the room again, when something possessed him to not enter the room, just yet. He pushed the door open, just a crack, and eavesdropped.

“So I hope we didn’t make things awkward between us, Sooga.”

“Not at all. Master Kohga ordered it so, ergo there’s nothing awkward to be had. I can tell it has been weighing heavily on your mind.”

“It’s not just WHAT I did, Sooga,”

Kohga peered through the crack of the door. Sidon slid his hand over, and held onto Sooga’s. They both looked at each other, with Sidon looking honest, absolute heartfelt.

“It’s what I’d like to do again. I very much enjoyed your touch. I enjoy being with you. With your permission, I’d like to do it again, however you see fit.”

Now Kohga could be mad. Could bark at him for trying to sneak into his man’s dm’s, or. Kohga could be smart about this. He pushed open the door, making them both jump.

“Think you’re missing SOMEONE’S permission in all of this, duel dick.”

Sooga jumped up in a panic, shaking his head wildly.

“Master Kohga please! I wasn’t going to-”

“Shh. I’m not talking to you.”

Sidon gulped, clearly being put into the spotlight.

“I didn’t mean to get in the middle of your relationship! I swear to you! I just-”

Kohga started laughing. There was something SO funny about these two idiots. Kohga took a step forward, shaking his head.

“Listen. I’m not mad at all. In fact, I’m not even saying no.”

That seemed to surprise them both, given their faces. Kohga held that big, shark face in his hands, lightly squishing his cheeks.

“What I’m saying is, you can fuck my Sooga as MUCH as you want. As much as HE wants. But, with MY conditions.”

Sooga butted in, clearly a bit flustered.

“Master Kohga, I told you my body was YOURS, no one claimed you had to share it!”

“One, I’m not saying I have to. I want to. Two, are you saying you DIDN’T enjoy getting fucked by Sidon?”

“I’m n-not saying that! I did enjoy it! I just-”

They both seemed a bit embarrassed by this, averting their gaze from one another like a couple of lovesick fools. It was cute, from a top’s perspective. Kohga let go of Sidon’s face, shrugging.

“See? You two like fucking each other. That’s all there is to it. So, why don’t we just be adults about this? Sidon, babe, you can fuck my Sooga, here and now. IF I get to be the meat in this here sandwich.”

Sidon didn’t seem to be following, and neither did Sooga. Bottoms. Kohga groaned, shaking his head.

“I MEAN the three of us fuck, you gorgeous idiots.”

The realization hit them both like a ton of bricks. Sooga was about to protest, when Sidon nodded eagerly.

“I have no objections on that end! I’m rather fond of you both! Assuming that is fine with Sooga here.”

They both looked at him, and Sooga stammered, trying to find a proper response. Kohga always needed to help this loser have fun. He motioned Sooga to lean down to his level, and pushed his mask to the side a bit, pecking his lips.

“If you don’t want to, you can say no. But I think you’d have fun. You have two studs here who want to make you feel good. Granted I’d still be the head honcho, but I mean, you know I take care of my boys, right?”

Sooga seemed hesitant, before Kohga pulled out the big guns.

“It’d make me very happy~”

That was ALWAYS enough to convince Sooga. He sighed, and nodded.

“I...suppose if it’s alright with you both.”

Sidon acted as if this shit was a bond of friendship, rather than an invitation to a threeway, scooping them both up in a hug.

“Oh joy! I’m completely honored! Where exactly are we taking this?”

“Sooga’s room. Which he can totally carry me there.”

Sooga knelt down to scoop Kohga up in his arms, right before Sidon lifted him Sooga up in his arms, grinning wildly.

“Please! Lead the way, and I shall follow!”

Kohga looked at Sooga, before putting his hands behind his head.

“We should keep this guy. Assuming you wouldn’t get too jealous of him~”

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

“God you two are REALLY into this”

It had been only a few minutes into this (hell they JUST got their clothes off), when Kohga decided it’d be cute to have them kiss each other. Apparently they took ‘kiss’ as ‘make the fuck out’. Kohga was nestled in between them, Sooga at his back and Sidon at his front. He sat there, watching as Sidon not only locked lips with his man, but practically forced his tongue down his throat. Hell, Kohga could see the bulge right in his man’s throat, and Sooga wasn’t at all complaining. He seemed to be enjoying himself, holding onto Sidon’s face as he groaned and moaned into it. Kohga almost felt left out, watching them enjoy one another like that. Then Kohga looked down. Sidon’s dicks were already at full swing, and Kohga knew just how he could reel the attention back to himself. He handled one in his hands, slowly stroking it in his palm. Kohga was apparently VERY good at this, as it was enough to make Sidon pull away, big, long, thick tongue hanging out, all soaked in drool like a dog (Kohga had a type it seemed). He lapped at his lips, looking down at Kohga’s hand.

“Your...hand is quite soft, Kohga.”

Sooga nodded, taking a minute to rest his chin on Kohga’s bare shoulder.

“Master Kohga is VERY soft.”

“But in a stud way.”

“The studliest, Master Kohga.”

They shared a kiss for a moment, before Kohga noticed Sidon was lightly thrusting into his hand. He REALLY wanted this, didn’t he? Kohga leaned down, and dragged his tongue across the length of that nice, big girth. It made Sidon shake, grabbing onto the sheets.

“You know, Sidon, I’m well aware you got the hots for Sooga here, but let me tell you, when I’m done with you, imma be the only one on your mind.”

And Kohga didn’t mean that as a flirt. He meant it as a promise. He leaned down, decorating that big (one of them anyway, Kohga was just ONE man), throbbing spike in kisses, before slowly taking him in his mouth. The spiky bumps at the end felt good going across his tongue, and even better when it slowly made his way down his throat. Sidon was damn near shaking as Kohga took him in fully, mask bumping against that rocking Zora bod of his. Sidon watched in fascination as Kohga kept at it, right before he slowly pulled away, drool still connecting his mouth to that one succulent cock. Sidon swallowed, somehow finding his voice after a moment of panting.

“I...not aware you were so talented, Kohga.”

“You’re a big guy, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve handled bigger. You’re up there on the sun scale though, two for one deal here. And excited too, don’t think I can’t see you twitching.”

Kohga sat there, stroking that slick cock in his hand for a moment. He tasted salty, like seawater, and in a way, Kohga was kinda into it. He made a ‘come here’ motion with his finger.

“Now, you gave Sooga a kiss. My turn.”

Sidon didn’t have a qualm in the slightest, holding onto Kohga’s chin, and pressing his lips against his. It started cute and sweet, until Sidon’s tongue worked his way into his mouth, and Kohga actually found himself almost gagging. It wasn’t the size, as that dick was bigger, but it was the way it moved. It squirmed and writhed inside of his mouth, as if he intended to reach inside of him, and eat his entire heart. Kohga loved it. Even loved how Sooga watched, leaning his hand over to play with his Master’s cock, nice and quickly, just how he liked it. Sidon was so into it, Kohga had to pat him on his chest to get him to pull away (and Kohga could hold his breath for QUITE a long time). Even watching him pull away was kinda hot, honestly. Kohga chuckled (like the dumb thot he was), wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“You are a FUN boy. Now, let’s put that dick to good use, eh?”

They both seemed to know what he meant, and both made the motion to lift Kohga up. Their eyes met, and Sooga cleared his threat.

“I’m sorry- this is my job. You are the guest.”

“I AM the guest. Ergo, it should be in MY honor.”

Kohga almost wanted to let them fight. Ooh, two absolute dream boats fighting over who got to hold him. It was the life. He let them bicker for just a minute more, before he reached up and grabbed Sooga’s cheek, lightly patting it.

“Let our guest do it, Sooga. You’re a good boy, remember?”

Sooga grumbled a bit, before nodding. Sidon stuck his tongue out at him, before picking Kohga up, wrapping his arms under Kohga’s, holding him up. Kohga nearly shuddered as he felt that big, throbbing cock press up against his back. Sooga seemed to immediately be jealous, pressing himself against his front, and essentially making Kohga sandwiched between two sets of abs. Kohga could swoon, honestly. He watched them press their foreheads together, eyes practically shining in competition. He was half expecting a war here, so Kohga chuckled, lightly poking Sooga's mask.

"Easy, easy. You're a good boy. Act good in front of the company. You can even go first if you want."

"...you’re very kind, Master Kohga. The most kind, most handsome man ever."

"I try. Now, fuck me, right in my ass, my big, pretty boy."

With one more kiss, Sooga obeyed, holding onto Kohga's ass (and grabbing him a bit harder than usual), and pushing himself into his ass. Sidon took that as a que to follow suit, slowly pushing himself into Kohga's ass. Kohga actually shook a bit. Oh that was a STRETCHER of a cock. Kohga threw his head back, feeling both of those sweet, sweet cocks pulse inside of him. Sidon leaned his face into his neck, and bit down. It wasn’t a sweet love bite either, but a good, hard bite, right onto that sweet, sweet spot. Sooga made the move to push him away, but Kohga held his hand up.

"N-no. Let him. He's a guest. He can bite all he-ho shit."

Oh that one felt REAL good. He could feel the trickles of blood run down his arm, and it was just, SUPER hot. But Kohga couldn’t ignore his poor Sooga. He made himself breathe, before motioning Sooga to go ahead. Sooga did just that, starting to thrust himself into his ass, even taking the occasional moment to lean in and (rather possessively) smooch his man. Kohga chuckled, noticing how his glare kept turning to Sidon.

"Aw. Is someone worried a big fishy prince is going to take me away?"

Sooga muttered under his breath, only for Sidon to start to move in tandem to Sooga's thrusts. They seemed to grow more possessive of him, constantly taking turns kissing and shoving their tongues into his mouth. It was a wild combination of drool, moans, and possessive growlings. They both wanted Kohga's affections, and Kohga didn’t at ALL mind it. Didn’t mind their throbbing, hungry cocks, didn’t mind their ravenous bitings, their starving, eager nails scratching against his skin and tearing into him like he was a meal. All while Kohga just sat there, pumping his cock and moaning for them to keep going. You'd think Kohga was being lazy.

You'd be wrong. Kogha didn't need actions to be in charge. His voice was enough to command them, and both obeyed with no hesitation.

"Fuck me harder, both of you. Don't treat me delicately, fuck me like you WANT me. I wanna see who can plow my juicy ass better. I want to be fucking SORE, come ON!"

Kohga was a very high demand man. As such, he wasn’t easily pleased. He didn’t need JUST a huge cock. He needed hunger, lust, devotion, force, and absolute submission to please him. These two had to work hard for that, and Kohga, upon finally cumming, getting thick cum all over his hands and Sooga's chest, decided now was their reward.

"Cum inside of me. Now."

It was a simple command, and somehow, it worked. With panting, eager breaths, they came. Sooga came first, stuffing Kohga's ass full of cum, only for it to essentially be flushed out by Sidon's load. Cum was not only in his ass, on their cocks, but on their sheets in pretty much a puddle. The three of them sat there, not moving, aside from loud, heavy breaths. Then Sidon chuckled, sounding kinda wounded.

"That...was exemplary~"

"Eh I'd say 'that was fucking GOOD', but yours is good too. Hoo, you boys were READY for me apparently. Haven't felt this full in a long, long time."

Sidon's coarse tongue dragged against the freshly made wounds, and while it stung, Kohga found himself kinda into it, petting Sidon's head as he went along. Sooga sat there, and was trying (and failing) not to look jealous. Kohga chuckled, pinching Sidon's cheek.

"What's say we let Sooga have a turn this time eh?"

Sidon looked up from Kohga's shoulder, leaning up to bite at Sooga's bottom lip, chuckling.

"Only if you permit me. Master Kohga."

Those sounded DAMN good coming from a prince's lips. There WAS always room for more than one good boy.

[starryknight09]

Six feet under

Febuwhump Day 9: buried alive

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“This will teach you to stick your nose in other people’s business.” The boss guy, Marco or Bob or Josh or whatever his name was, said.

Peter rolled his eyes even though they couldn’t see it through his mask.  He tugged again at the cuffs holding his wrists together behind his back, but no dice.  They must be made out of vibranium or something, which meant this guy had spent a pretty penny to catch him.  Peter almost felt flattered.  After all, he’d only spent the last couple weeks busting all the guy’s dealers and cleaning up the drug ring that he’d tried to set up in Queens.

“Put him in.” The boss guy commanded.

The two lackeys holding onto each of his arms pushed him forward until they reached the open coffin dangling by pulleys over a dug out grave.  Well this looked fun.  The men at his sides lifted him up and slammed him into it with a coordination he didn’t think they’d possess.

“Hey!” He protested but the lid snapped shut before he even had a chance to attempt escape.  He pushed against the cover with his feet but it didn’t budge.  Was this thing lined with vibranium too?  That could be problematic.  A second later he felt himself falling before his back slammed into the coffin again, presumably having landed at the bottom of the six foot hole dug out under it.  Ouch.  That had kind of hurt his wrists, which were still trapped behind him by the stupid handcuffs.  

“Hey Karen?” He didn’t know why he whispered.  There was no way the goons could hear him.  But somehow being stuck in a casket made him feel like he owed it some kind of reverence.

“Yes Peter?”

“Uh night vision please.”

His mask switched to the view filter as requested, but it didn’t help.  No secret hidden trap doors made themselves known.  Not that he’d expected them to.  No, now he could just see where the bad guys thought he’d spend his final moments of life.  The thudding of dirt hitting the coffin lid made his heart rate increase.  He was literally getting buried alive right now.  Yep.  This situation was definitely not ideal.  

“You appear to be in an undesirable position.” Karen said, completely understating it.  “Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”

“Um…” He kicked his feet up against the lid as hard as he could.  Over and over.  After a handful of times, not so much as a splinter appeared.  He knew he probably should be panicking right about now, but he wasn’t because he still had his suit.  The bad guys hadn’t even considered that he’d be able to call for help.  So, all in all, this was just a minor inconvenience.  

“Yeah.” He agreed with a sigh.  “Call him.”

“Hey Pete what’s up?” Tony answered on the second ring and the tension that had been building up in his chest unfurled.  “Madame Secretary was just asking if you were still planning on coming up for the weekend. You are, right?”

“Ok, so don’t freak out.” He started, not quite sure how to explain his dilemma without Tony going postal.

“You saying that is making me freak out.” Tony replied, voice tense.  “What’s going on?”

“Ok so I might be in a bit of a situation.” The rain of dirt thudding above him had slowed.  He wondered if they were using some kind of equipment because shoveling by hand definitely would’ve taken a lot longer.

“Uh huh.  What kind of situation?  Start using your words kid.”

“Ok, first, I just want to let you know that I’m ok.  I’m perfectly fine.  So when I tell you, don’t go flying off the handle.”

“You’re really not making me feel any better.” Tony interrupted.

“I’m, um, kind of stuck.”

“That’s not an explanation.  Start explaining.” Tony said, and Peter could tell he was in the suit now because of the almost imperceptible tinniness of his voice.

“I’m sort of…” He winced before just ripping off the bandaid.  “Buried.”

The heavy silence almost weighted him down more than the pounds of dirt on top of him.

“I’m sorry.  I think I must’ve misheard you.  You’re what now?” Peter could tell he was freaking out.

“I’m buried.  As in underground?  Pushing daisies?  Six feet under?  I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.” Peter explained, trying to keep a lightness to his tone.

“The attitude isn’t cute.” Tony snapped and a few seconds later Peter heard him release a long calming breath.

“Seriously Tony I’m ok.  Just…I can’t get out of this by myself.”

“You promise?  You’re not in any danger of asphyxiating?”

“Um, not imminently.” He answered.  For a chemistry class project last year, he and Ned had figured out the amount of time a human could actually survive buried in a coffin, which had seemed a little morbid at the time, but now was turning out to be quite useful.  He knew he had at least a few hours before things would start to get dire, so he didn’t have to panic, because he had every confidence that Tony would have him out by then.

“You’re really not helping out my stress levels here kid.” Tony complained.

“Sorry.”

“Just hang in there.  I’m tracking your suit.  I’m twenty minutes away.” Tony said, then asked in a panic, “You’re in your suit right?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok good.” He heard Tony take another deep breath.  “So how did you manage to get yourself in this situation?”

“I’ve been working on busting up a drug ring in Queens the past couple weeks and apparently I really really pissed off the head honcho dude.” He explained, trying to roll into a more comfortable position, so not all his weight was on his wrists.  His hands were starting to tingle.

Tony snorted.  “So this guy decided to…bury you?”

“Yeah he even put me in a coffin.  I think maybe he was trying to be poetic?  But I don’t know.  Seems like a waste of money.  Like, aren’t coffins really expensive?”

Silence met his question.

“Um Tony?  Are you still there?  You didn’t fly into a power line or something, did you?” He tried not to sound scared, but if something happened to Tony, he was dead.  Literally.

“I’m here.” Tony said, but he didn’t sound quite right.

“Are you ok?” He asked.  Tony always used to joke about having a weak heart but after he’d barely survived the snap it’d actually become true.

“Am I ok?  You’re the one literally stuck in a coffin underground and you’re asking me if I’m ok?” Tony’s voice got more high pitched.

“Um yeah.”

“I’ll be ok when I get you out.  How does that sound?”

“Ok.” He mumbled, feeling appropriately chastised.  

“Just do me a favor.” Tony requested.  “Keep talking to me.”

Peter smiled.  That he could do.  

“Just no more talk about being buried, underground, or coffins.  All right?” Tony added.

“Sure.  No problem.  So last week at practice, guess what Flash did…”

“You’re making that up.  Morgan did not say that.” Peter laughed.

“Yes she did!  I swear!  If you don’t believe me, ask her.” Tony said.

“Don’t think I won’t.”

“Oh, I know you will.”

Peter made a mental note to do just that.

“I’m here kid.” Tony said, much more solemn than a second earlier.

“Oh thank god.” He said with a desperate exhale.  “Because I have to tell you I’ve been trying really hard not to think about it, but it’s starting to get hard not to think about it.”

“I know.”

“Are any of the goons here?” He asked, curious, because if there were, that would be the last mistake any of them would ever make.  Tony wasn’t someone you wanted to cross.

“Goons?  Who uses that word?”

“I do.  I like it.”

“You sound like some 1960’s mobster, but to answer your question, no, none of them are here.  Looks like they hightailed it out of here after burying you.” Peter could tell he was disappointed.  No doubt Tony wanted to exact his revenge.

“So…what’s the sitch?  How long until you can get me out of here?” He tapped his foot anxiously against the end of the coffin.

“The sitch?  Seriously kid, what kind of movies have you been watching lately?” Tony joked, which must be good news, because if he was capable of joking around then his situation must not be too dire.

“Good ones.”

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you.  I’m going to need a chronological list.”

Peter rolled his eyes but the next second he got distracted by a humming scraping noise.  “Hey!  I hear something.  What is that?”

“I’m digging you out.  Hopefully it won’t take too long.  Just sit tight.”

“Don’t worry.  I’m not going anywhere.” He joked.

“What’d I say about being cute?”

“Um, don’t do it?”

“Oh, so you do hear me when I talk.  You just don’t listen.” Tony said, but there was no bite to it.  Peter could tell he was still stressed, so instead of continuing the banter, he stayed quiet and waited patiently to be freed.

He had no idea how much time had passed but eventually he had the sensation of being lifted and placed back on solid ground.  A couple seconds passed and he heard Tony grunt and swear.

“Um, I think they might’ve used vibranium on the coffin.  I couldn’t kick through it.” He warned, figuring Tony had tried to open the lid and failed.

“Forgot to mention that little detail, huh?”

“Oops.” Peter smiled.  “You didn’t throw your back out did you old man?”

“Here I am saving you and all I’m getting is sass and more sass.” Tony mock complained.

“You can still get me out right?” The nerves hit him again.  Wasn’t vibranium impossible to damage?  Isn’t that why it’d been used to make Cap’s shield.  What if he was still stuck in here and he was going to suffocate and—

“Relax Pete.  I’ll get you out.” Tony reassured him.  “Contrary to popular belief, vibranium’s not indestructible.  You just need a high enough and concentrated enough heat source.  And some time.”

“Like a laser?”

“Exactly like a laser.” Tony said and Peter didn’t think he was imaging the pride in his voice.

“Do you have one on the suit?”

“Of course.”

Thank god.

“Hang in there.  This might take a little time.”

Peter tried to stay patient, but the closer he got to his release, the more difficult it was to wait.  He just wanted out.  At least he could follow Tony’s progress.  The seal around the coffin lid glowed visibly as Tony lasered away at it.  Tony hadn’t been kidding about the time comment.  It had to have been close to forty five minutes before the laser finally made it all the way around.

Before the glow from the last bit of lasering had faded, Tony ripped the cover off.  Peter squinted from the light, but he could make out Ironman standing over him.  The helmet nanobots retracted and Peter gave Tony’s pale face a wide smile.  He didn’t get a chance to say anything before Tony grabbed his upper arms and yanked him up and out of the coffin, pulling the mask off his face the second he’d set him on his feet.  

Peter smiled.  “Oh thank you.  That’s so much better.  Except…ooo ow!”

“What?  What’s wrong?” Tony asked, looking over him frantically for some kind of hidden injury.

“Nothing.  Just I was lying on my hands and they fell asleep and now, oh, ow, the feeling’s coming back and they’re all tingly.  Ow ow ow.”

Tony let out an audible sigh of relief.  “So you’re good?”

“Besides still being handcuffed?” Peter complained at the cuffs still around his wrists.  “Yeah, I’m good.”

Tony rolled his eyes but gripped his shoulders and spun him around.  “Hold on.  I’ll get you free.”

A minute later, his wrists sprang free and he winced, the movement irritating the tingling.  Regaining sensation was slightly overrated.  He glanced down at them, noticing Tony had left the thick cuffs on but had sliced through the chain that connected them.

“There.” Tony declared and twirled him back around.  “You good?”

He nodded.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“In that case…” Tony pulled him into a relieved hug.

Peter hugged him back, squeezing tightly, not needing to worry about controlling his strength since Tony was still in his suit, although hugging the suit wasn’t quite as comforting as hugging the real thing.  He kind of wanted to ask Tony to get out of it, but he didn’t want to act like a scared little kid.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled once the normal appropriate amount of time to hug had come and gone.  Clearly this had bothered Tony more than he’d let on.

Tony kissed the side of his head and finally released him, but Peter could still see the remnants of tension on his face.

“You scared me kid.” Tony admitted.

“I know.  I’m sorry.” He hung his head.

“Let’s just agree this was a one and done.”

“Agreed.” Peter nodded.  “I have no plan to end up in a coffin anytime soon.”

“Good.  You better not.” Tony said like a stern warning but the hint of fear in his eyes belied it.

“Can we go home now?” He asked, exhaustion hitting him hard as the adrenaline faded.

Tony nodded.  “I’ve made the executive decision that we’re moving your weekend visit up by two days.”

Peter let out an amused exhale.  “Ok, but when we get back, can you get these things off me?”  He held his arms up to show the cuffs still dangling around his wrists.

“I don’t know.” Tony said, the nanotech re-forming the mask around his face.  “I think I might leave them on for a day or so as your punishment for getting yourself in this situation and practically scaring me to death.”

“Tony.” He whined in protest.  He didn’t think the man was actually serious, but you could never be too sure.

“Or if you want, we can discuss a more suitable punishment.” Tony said, the Ironman armor making his voice sound more serious and intimidating.  At this point, though, Peter knew Tony wasn’t completely kidding.  Some kind of consequence awaited him.  Probably not the cuffs staying on, but something.

“Hm that coffin’s looking better and better.” He joked, pretending to look at it longingly.

“Not funny.” Tony said sternly in what Morgan had coined his ‘dad voice’ before grabbing him around the waist and blasting off into the air.

“Hey can we stop for ice cream on the way?  I feel like getting buried alive in a coffin is kind of an ice cream situation.” He said, loud enough so Tony would hear him over the wind.

“No.  No ice cream.  God, you and Morgan are the reason I have so many grey hairs.”

“I thought that was from old age.”

“You’re really scoring lots of points today Pete.”

Peter grinned.  “Are you sure we can’t get ice cream?”

“No!”

“So you’re not sure?”

“No.  No ice cream!”

Later that night, after Tony had gotten the cuffs off him, and they’d had some time to emotionally recover, Peter ate his bowl of chocolate cookie dough ice cream while he watched Moana, sandwiched between Morgan and Tony.

[baconsoupforthesoul]

The Ink Demonth - Day 2 - Memory

Ghosts of the Past

A/N: Since the first drabble I wrote for the Ink Demonth last year was for the Bioshock au, I figured I’d stick with tradition and whip something up for my fav AU. Also, the song I reference at the beginning is The Boogie Man by Todd Rollins which you can listen to here. As always, Henry belongs to the lovely @inkspottie​ and I hope you all enjoy~

“Boo, I'm the Boogie Man

The terrible, horrible Boogie Man

I come in the middle of the night and frighten, bad little girls like you~”

Henry shivered as he heard the music wafting out of a nearby speaker. He didn’t know if the music was a welcome change or not to the sounds of splicer chatter, or the uneasy vacant silence, punctured only by the groans of the aging underwater city. Henry shivers, feeling the cold wrench in his hand and the frigid air around him. His sweater didn’t help much here at the bottom of the ocean as he feels the chill seep down into his bones.

As Henry slowly makes his way past ripped banners and overturned chairs, he gulps when he sees a large bloodstain smeared along the carpet, leading to a decaying corpse leaning against the wall. He felt sick, his stomach heaving unpleasantly as he holds his hand over his mouth. Good god… how could a place this horrifying even exist? This dying city at the bottom of the sea. Who in the right minds would build something like this?

“Hey, what’s the holdup, boyo? If you don’t get moving the splicers will be coming outta the woodwork for ya. Get a move on!” An Irish accented voice chastised him over the radio hanging off his hip, shaking Henry out of his horror-filled stupor as he winced at the loud volume.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Henry answered back. “There’s no need to shout,” he mumbled to himself. While Shawn had said he wanted to help guide Henry out of this place, he could certainly have a harsh edge to him at times. It wasn’t helping Henry’s already fried nerves, that was for certain.

Henry tiptoed softly forward, trying his best to ignore the smell of decay hanging in the air. There was another foul stench in the air though, and Henry found its source when he turned a corner. The neon glow from the ‘Dames’ and ‘Gents’ bathroom signs flickered as Henry cautiously approached. The sweater-clad man hesitantly peeks around the corner of the ‘Gents’ bathroom and breathed a sigh of relief that it was vacant.

As he stepped lightly into the bathroom though, Henry’s vision started to get fuzzy around the edges. He hissed, feeling a sharp pain in his temple as he clutched at his head. Not again! His meds must really be wearing off cause the pain in his head just kept getting worse. As Henry looked up though, determined to press on despite the pain, he stopped. His eyes widened as he stood there, frozen to the spot. Everything seemed too… bright. This whole studio was so dark but it was like someone had just switched on the sun at the bottom of the ocean. But that wasn’t what gave Henry pause.

He saw a figure of a person in front of him. Henry could just barely make out the outline of them as if they weren’t quite there. There was no color to them, just that same blinding white light that shown all around him.

Was… was that a ghost?

Henry couldn’t think of any other explanation as he stared wide eyed at the outline of a man leaning against a bathroom stall door. His heart started to pound in his chest as he took a step back, his whole body shaking. Henry suddenly jumped though when another indistinct figure walked right by him, approaching the other ghost in the bathroom.

“Why in the world are we meeting in a dump like this, huh?” the figure striding in asked.

“Listen, you think I like meeting here?” the other man scoffed. “There’s just eyes and ears everywhere around this place. Can’t be too careful.”

Henry felt frozen to the spot as he listened to the two figures converse as if he wasn’t even there. He could clearly hear their voices but… it was like it was coming in through a faulty radio, the volume shifting and the words fading in and out slightly.

“What’s this all ‘bout then?” the newcomer huffed, crossing his arms.

“Listen to me,” The first man stepped forward. “This studio… to put it bluntly… is going to hell in a hand basket. You know it as well as I.”

“Ain't that the understatement of the century,” the second ghost complained. “Any joker can see this place is going downhill fast.”

“Exactly,” the other one agreed vehemently, stepping forward. “We have to do something about it before it’s too late!”

“We sure do but…” the one who entered paused, scratching his chin. “While the man at the top has clearly lost his marbles… he’s still the head honcho. And there’s been… rumors… going around about what he’s doing to folks who step outta line...”

“I know, I know,” the first man butted in, his voice tinged with worry. “But we have to do something. Before… before it’s too late…” “Alright, alright,” the second one holds his hands up in surrender. “I’ll hear you out, but if this plan of yours sounds like a one-way ticket to getting us killed, I’m outta here.”

And with that final statement, the two figures vanished, as if they hadn’t been there in the first place.

Henry took in a sharp breath as he backed up, running into the wall behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, clutching at it as he tried to make sense of what he just saw. It was one thing to suddenly find oneself in an underwater city after being in a horrific plane crash but… ghosts? Was he seeing things? Had he finally lost it after not taking his meds and being stuck down here with a bunch of murderous splicers? He had never had a paranormal experience in his life and he had just seen not one but two full-body apparitions. What was even happening in this studio?

“I thought I said to get a move on!” Henry jumped as Shawn’s voice crackled over the radio again, clearly annoyed with him. “Are ya gonna stand there all day? Or do ya want ta get out of this hell hole?”

“Y-yeah… sorry…” Henry gulped, his whole body shaking as he unsteadily moved away from the wall. “I just… thought I saw something…”

He considered telling Shawn about what he just saw but… would that just make him sound like a lunatic? He needed the man’s help, he didn’t want Shawn to abandon him cause he thought he had a few screws loose. Best to keep this to himself for now.

But their voices… they had sounded so real. He could still hear them echoing in his head even now. Those weren’t just whispers… but coherent sentences. Could he really have hallucinated that?

Henry didn’t have any answers, and that just made it worse. He was stuck down here, lost and confused, with only the impatient man on the radio to guide him through it. There seemed to be no end to the strange and nightmarish phenomenon this studio had to offer, and Henry just prayed he would survive it to see the sun again.

[moved-attre]

Rewriting Cyberpunk 2077 into a bullet point list! LET’S GO!

(Disclaimer: I’m trying to be realistic. So no, “every single detail of the game changes based upon every single choice V makes” but just things I expected in an RPG from an AAA company in 2020. I take a lot of inspiration from the old trailers, and rumors of pre-2018 development.)

And this is really long, too. Sorry. 😜

Okay, so first off: Act 1 generally goes off the same as it does in canon. I’m open to other ideas, but I don’t think it’s a bad starting point. I do think V and Jackie should have had more time together, doing smaller jobs until Dex calls. Like, there should’ve been side jobs that were only available in Act 1. You have to get a minimum of 5 street cred before you get the conversation with Jackie about Dex.

The heist still goes to shit; Yorinobu kills his father, Takemura rebels against him and Arasaka factions split. V inserts the chip into their head, Jackie still dies and Dex shoots V in the head. Takemura rescues V, kills Dex, V wakes up in Vik’s and is told they have 4 months to live. (2 weeks is not enough!)

On to Act 2! The origins actually affect the game, so there’s three versions of it you can play. (Some things happen regardless of the origin, though.) For example: Corpo V has contacts in the Corpo world and pursues leads about the Relic there through their old friends. Street Kid V has contacts in the gangs, like the Valentinos or Maelstrom, who have dirty dealings with corporations and can get V in on Arasaka knowledge, Nomad V has leads out in the badlands about the corporations and gets in that way, hijacking transports to get some info. All origins can work with the corporations (like Hanako’s branch of Arasaka, Militech, Biotechnia, etc.) or against them. Like, the point is to snoop around the corporations and dig up some dirt on the Relic and Yorinobu’s Arasaka branch specifically but each origin goes about it differently?

Maelstrom vs Meredith Stout choice actually matters. It’s one point in a subplot I mentioned above, where V continually makes choices on whether they’re gonna side with the corporations or the gangs/people of NC against Arasaka in order to be rid of the Relic. Also affects V’s relationship with Johnny. You can also have a real, long term relationship with Meredith if you pick her side and get Militech support, or count on Maelstrom to help you in the main plot against Arasaka. Both sides will still attack V if they poke their nose in, meaning random encounters can still happen.

^ The subplot is like, making a deal with the devils (The corpos) or... other devils (The gangs). One person objectively could say one is better than the other, but they’re both awful. Night City is kind of rotten to the core, and V’s problems can’t be fixed by a pursuit of justice. V can still be a good person in either case, and it’s still kept kind of punk by going against the head honchos. I think this more suits the “Wake the fuck up, Samurai. We have a city to burn.” quote because V is churning up a path to the top, even if their methods are purely selfish. V themselves can be uninterested in righting wrongs, but they kind of turn NC on its head by challenging Arasaka so changes come anyway.

Point, is you fuck everything up either way. THEN, V can choose whether to trust the corporations and work with Hanako to “change the system from within” without disrupting people’s day-to-day lives (short term good choice I suppose?) or to let the gangs rise up and cause total anarchy. (long term good? since the downtrodden are rising up and maybe there shouldn’t be absolute power in the hands of a few.)

T-Bug doesn’t die. V thinks she’s dead, but sometime in Act 2 gets an anonymous call and meets up with T-Bug. She went underground after the botched heist, and isn’t eager to work with V again. Maybe you do a few missions with her, and she comes around? Or you fuck up and never hear from her again. I imagine she’d love to poke around at the Relic, if V helps her.

Giving Jackie’s body to Vik has real consequences. If you give his body to his mother, you attend the ofrenda and get his bike, his mom allows you to use his den as a place to stay... It’s basically the ‘good’ choice, if you care about the characters. If you give his body to Vik, you unlock a side mission where Arasaka steals his body to find the relic. You have to go and find it but it was destroyed(?) at some point by Arasaka. You can get his pistols (Which are, aside from Johnny’s pistol, the best weapons in the game. I don’t get why they aren’t in canon...) in this route and whole lotta angst, so his mom basically hates you because she blames you for not being able to bury her son and the bar is off limits. No getting the bike, either.

More content involving Alt Cunningham. V still witnesses the scene with her and Johnny, her kidnapping and death. But, Ghost AI Alt allows V to look into Alt’s memories for information on Mikoshi. V accidentally accesses some more personal memories. We can see Alt as more of a fleshed out actual person, not just a tragic backstory for Johnny. Some of the memories do involve Johnny, and the tone is very different from her perspective. We see that Alt has genuine affection for him, but Johnny is possessive and abusive... It’s far from the relationship Johnny recalls. Of course, Johnny can see all this too since he lives in V’s head. He and V have a heart to heart afterwards, with Johnny realising how badly he treated Alt and yeah. I wasn’t satisfied with how Alt was just used as a sob story for Johnny, but I was sent an ask by an anonymous person about how the memory was from his perspective and thus biased. It really got me thinking! If I was more creative, I’d come up with a way for Alt to live... But Johnny still needs to bomb Arasaka and Alt’s death was the reason why he did that.

You have to return one of your apartments/safe houses every few days to wash and sleep. If not, V will get a penalty that means they are less accurate when aiming and slower when breaking in a vehicle. Also some NPC’s will refuse to talk to you if you don’t bathe, because... stinky.

And you have to eat! Otherwise you get hungry, and get penalties for that too. Can’t concentrate on an empty stomach. I’d say eating once or twice a day would be enough.

Instead of fast travel points (that are supposed to be taxi services, I think...? But we never see a taxi! And why can’t we just call Del? Ugh.), V takes the metro. There are side missions that can sometimes only start once you get on or off of a train. (You meet NPC’s in the train, or waiting for one.)

Takemura and Johnny are romance options, and are available for all genders. They’re the most difficult to romance, with some (kind of obvious) dialogue choices ending the possibility. Like, for example: Takemura’s romance ends badly if you choose to go against the corporations, and Johnny’s ends badly if you go with the corporations. It’s the same with Meredith, essentially, in that going against her won’t allow you to romance her. I know a rival-mance system is possible, but I think that might be too complicated.

Takemura and V’s relationship is much, much deeper. They have more time together, and grow closer. Takemura trains V in combat, and takes over from Coach Fred in the street fights side missions. You go with Takemura to fights, he’s your coach, is very proud when you win. (He’s basically training V in the event that they have to take on Adam Smasher and Oda. Like, why did we have no training montages with Takemura?!) V is able to choose romance or stay friends with him. There’s plenty more missions with Takemura too, mainly espionage stuff against Yorinobu. Finding out his weaknesses, replacing his staff with people that are loyal to Hanako, digging for dirt on him. Lots of stake outs, hehe. 😉 Romance!™️ Also makes it that much more tragic if V doesn’t choose to trust the corporations, since Takemura will end things and leave NC.

There are garages to upgrade your cars but Panam can upgrade it further if you do her missions + befriend her, and you can find super secret parts for your cars that Panam needs all around NC by stealing them from gangs or Corpos! Like, make your car go 200 mph fast or a setting to make it hover. 😎

FOUND FAMILY TROPE... Involving the LI’s + more characters. I wanted Misty, Vik, Judy, Panam, River and Kerry to all know each other and be friends. Also, somewhere for them to hang out. Judy coming down and hanging out with Misty and Vik would’ve been so cool.

Missions involving Vik. I think he deserved his own personal missions. Also, he’s gotta be romanceable! I’ll add more to this later.

I’m still figuring out how Johnny’s romance would go. It’s a tricky one. Lots of tension, jealously if V flirts with anybody... Heart to hearts... Holding hands... Passive aggressive confessions of love...

River is introduced in the main story. Maybe you team up to hunt down somebody who knows stuff about the Relic, like Anders Hellman, or something else to do with it. River’s like “What the fuck is going on?” but V doesn’t really tell him. Then, of course, you meet him later on and recognise him in the BD given to you by Jefferson.

Meeting Kerry earlier in the story, say mid Act 2? Ideally there would have been 5 Acts, and maybe I’ll edit this to include more once I figure out how the story could have gone. AND he’s part of the main story.

Less generic, “get in, get item and get out” side missions from Fixers and more side missions like the Peralez’s and that guy who got crucified. More freaky Cyberpunk subjects like what constitutes a soul, what is “intelligence” (What makes a machine different than a human? Without shitty false racism analogies), human rights abuses (and in that: classism, racism, ableism, transphobia), pollution, more on “Cyberpsychos” and how harmful that term is, etc. Nauced and thought-provoking. Reminding us that this is a dystopia and the issues are different but not all that wildly so from today. I would’ve developed Brendan’s mission more, because it seemed like we were going to see an earnest discussion on Artificial Intelligence but instead it was just confusing and “Haha, tricked you!” 🥱 Like, what if he really was a person capable of free thought and emotion? And that company still owns him and can overwrite him? Isn’t that fucked up?! It didn’t need a happy ending, just something to unnerve me.

Adding to that, Delamain had plenty of opportunities to discuss AI and the rights of individual contructs. His “children” could be freed, but nothing really happens as a result? I wanted consequences! The emails about human staff being made redundant because of Delamain were so interesting, too. I wanted to see something about the consequences of that in a city with no basic universal income. What happened to them? What can be done to help people who are made redundant by machines? So many possibilities for truly emotional and scary side missions!

I’m gonna watch black mirror for more inspiration, but stuff like the IRL blocking feature? Freaky as hell and totally plausible. Would’ve loved if one of the side missions involved V getting involved in some dispute involving something like that. “I can’t see his face!” or the copyright stuff about people’s appearances! Imagine if there was a Johnny lookalike? Engram Johnny would either find it hilarious or get really pissed off.

I’m hoping the DLC will deliver on more Takemura, so I’ll hold my breath for critiquing the Arasaka ending.

More to come! I’ll probably edit this later, if there’s any mistakes and/or I realise I hate an idea hehe.

[mytastessuck]

Gorillaz: Gorillaz (2001)

The history of my relationship is a long one...but I don’t like explaining stuff so I’ll keep it brief. I became a fan of the band when I saw a premiere of the “Clint Eastwood” video on Toonami. This could be attributed to the fact that I loved cartoons and I didn’t know there was a bunch of animated music videos back then. But there are. There are a like a ton of animated music videos. Even back then. Even before back then. Did you know one won an Oscar? It was by Tom Waits. Surprised? You shouldn’t be. We’ll get to him later. Anyway, I heard a couple more songs from them around this era but I couldn’t get into them because I was young, stupid and had no money. It actually wasn’t till around the Demon Days era (Phase 2 for us in the know) that I managed to get a hold of this album. My dad is also a fan of this band and gave a special edition version of this album. Thanks to that gesture, I really got back into Gorillaz in a huge way. Looking up lyrics, lore and cameos (these guys did a song with D12. For 9/11. Is The Rap Critic’s Patreon still open? I got a request to make...). 

We can get into more details later. Right now, I am going to rate every single song on Gorillaz (2001) US Deluxe Edition. 1. Rehash A nice breezy way to start off the album. Although, to be honest, if you picked this CD up and put it in a player after seeing of Gorillaz’ released singles, you’ll most likely be going, “Did I get the right disc?”. Still, that’s the reason I love the band. They can go into any genre and there is still something there that sounds like them. This song is pretty cool. 

Song Score: 8/10

2. 5/4

Now this is what I’m talking about. Classic British Alternative: Uncommon time, indecipherable lyrics, disgust when you figure out what the lyrics are actually saying and a sick bass. This song right here? It justifies the purchase of the whole album. It’s nasty and it’s cool, like Peanut Butter water ice.

Song Score: 10/10

3. Tomorrow Comes Today

Oh my lord, this song. I always have a soft spot for songs that I can pretend I was deep to back in the day. Very slow, very contemplative, very moody...just like a young me. It’s good that they made this their first single because it really showed up what they were capable of.

Song Score: 9/10

4. New Genius (Brother)

Ooooo...spooky. This song is pretty nice for a dark atmosphere and recommended for singing in a bar by with smoking patrons. Also nice of Gorillaz to give us the Stranger Danger spiel without sounding completely lame about it.

Song Score: 8/10

5. Clint Eastwood

AWWW SHIT MUTHAFUCKERS, HERE WE GO! This is the song that I obsessed over for a decade of my life. I sucked the entire life out of this song to the point that I skip over it in some playlists because it has nothing left to offer me. Still, I objectively love this song and I appreciate it for introducing to this band and for introducing me to Del Tha Funkee Homosapien. Seriously, how was I supposed to live the rest of my life without knowing a guy was capable of bars like that? This song fucks.

Song Score: 10/10

6. Man Research (Clapper)

I think I can blame this song for me getting into Electronica at a later age. High-pitched voices, nice beats, the feeling that I’m in a lab watching people being experimented on...everything a good track needs. This song was really fun to sing out loud to myself when I was younger. Probably one of the things that made my neighbors call my sanity into question.

Song Score: 10/10

7. Punk

Fuck yeah. Gorillaz was slaughtering some bands before they even got of their crib with tribute to the genre. Don’t bother with the lyrics because the words just basically become another instrument on this track and boy are the instruments on their loudest display here. I can only hear a dude telling his mom to shut up on it anyway.

Song Score: 9/10

8. Sound Check (Gravity)

Gotta admit, didn’t really appreciate this song when I was younger. It felt like the pieces were there but it didn’t come together into something of substance. Now that I’m older, I...am still of the same opinion. I like the breakdown but I feel like the high-pitched voice has been played out at this point in the album.

Song Score 7/10

9. Double Bass

Ah, an instrumental. Probably one of the first ones I listened to on repeat. I love the string work on this and the accompanying beats. Really good music to chill to...if you ignore that one line.

Song Score: 9/10

10. Rock The House

Hey, it’s our old friend Del! I was pleasantly surprised to see him on another track, kicking ass to a set of nice pan flutes. Man, this song ruled. But I can only listen to the album version. The music video version censors ass crack. Ass crack! How conservative can you get?! Luckily, Gorillaz never ran into this problem again.

Song Score: 10/10

11. 19-2000

I remember this album being the first time I heard the original version of this song instead of the Soulchild Remix. Obviously, I had to prefer this version because the original version is always the best. At least, that’s the way I thought back then. Nowadays...

THEY BOTH SOUND NICE!

But I do have a special place in my heart for this song. I like the woman in the background. Adds an ethereal quality to the song.

Song Score: 9/10

12. Latin Simone (Que Pasa Condigo?)

The first time I heard this, I was like, “Why is this song in Spanish?” This is because I listened to the G Sides album first (more on that next week). But the more I listened, the more I preferred it to the English version. This guy sings like he’s before an auditorium and he wants the people outside to hear him. Funny story: I tried to play this song for my Spanish class but my speakers didn’t work for them to hear it. Sucks for them.

Song Score: 11/10

13. Starshine

This is probably my least favorite song on the album. Just melancholy for the sake of melancholy. Kind of bothers me how there’s no substance to it I can find...nice instrumental though.

Song Score: 6/10

14. Slow Country

My second least favorite song on the album. Usually I like discordant noises in a song but the amateur piano with the honks...don’t really do it for me. Nice mumbling at the end though. Never change, Damon.

Song Score: 7/10

15. M1A1

I remember the first time I watched Day of the Dead and during the beginning I kept going, “WHEN THE GUITAR COME IN?!”. I know, I know, I’m hilarious. Especially when I’m by myself. But seriously, not even factoring in nostalgia, this is the best track on the album. Great song, great singing, awesome fucking solo. The only thing better than M1A1 on this album is M1A1 live.

Song Score: 12/10

16. Dracula

You know that when I heard the sound bite from this track, I thought it was from the original movie? It’s not. It’s from fucking Looney Tunes. Damn. Egg on my face. Anyway, I love the goofiness of this track. It tries to sound dark and scary but it’s like that nice goth kid in your class who always pick Edgar Allan Poe as his Powerpoint topic. Good kid, great song.

Song Score: 8/10

17. Left Hand Suzuki Method

FEEL THE IMPACT

And I did. Like a wise man once said, I don’t need drugs to enjoy this track, just to enhance my enjoyment of it. And you know what? I don’t want to enhance it. This shit sounds good by itself. See, Slow Country? This is how you mix in things that don’t sound good together and make them sound good together. You know what that track needs? Japanese children talking. That improves everything.

Song Score: 9/10

18. 19-2000 (Soulchild remix)

And the head honcho themself, one of the first Gorillaz songs I listened to. Man, this shit slaps like Dave Grohl in a Michael Gondry video. Whenever I heard this song when I was a kid, I was thinking about it all week. It just sounds so sunny, so uplifting, like something you should be listening to on an amusement park ride. Fuck, this track is tight.

Song Score: 10/10

19. Clint Eastwood (Ed Case and Sweetie Irie remix)

...

...Is it too late to change my least favorite track on the album choice yet?

Okay, Slow Country was on the original album so it can keep its title. This track is the worst track of all the bonus ones. It’s just...they were onto something with the breakdown but the goofy reggae singing and the way too fast to enjoy beat? Just rubs me the wrong way. Ugh, and now I’m thinking of Laika already...

Song Score: 5/10

Album Score: 8.8/10

Join me next week as I review G-Sides. It’s gonna resemble fun!

[patricia-von-arundel]

So I don't know how serious you were or what you've decided on, but I recall reading some vague mention of allowing late participants into the cameo drawings so long as they contact you and let you know what's going on. And I appreciate how patient and sympathetic you are to everybody's circumstances- you have a good heart. But I gotta be honest and keep it real with you... I don't know how fair that is to everyone who actually turned things in on time. (1/3)

You set guidelines that were transparent and easy to understand. People committed themselves to those guidelines with the understanding that they would be eligible for those rewards. If you suddenly grant awards to people who didn’t abide by the guidelines, then what’s the point? Why should anyone obey your deadlines now? Imagine if a late participant won the cameo- imagine the insult that would be to everyone who was punctual and their recipient who had to wait. (2/3)

I know you’re the head honcho in this operation and at the end of the day it is your choice. I don’t mean to undermine that. If you’re insulted by my boldness I’m very sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to share what thoughts are going through my head, and maybe share another perspective. (3/3) 

I gotta be honest and keep it real with you - you want to organize an event, be my guest. I’m normally pretty hardass about this kind of thing. You don’t follow the rules, you don’t get the good stuff. I’ve been around this block many, many times before - I’ve been organizing fandom events for literally over a decade. 

But you know what?

The world is on fucking fire right now.

Lives are in absolute chaos, reality is upside down, we have thousands of people hospitalized and dying daily, and you want me to make no, absolutely no, exceptions (which, I will add, I never said I would not do) if someone is honest with me when they may be struggling to write a story or draw a picture - for free - when their whole world might be crumbling, or they’re balancing a thousand new responsibilities, or they’re suddenly wracked with a worse case of the same anxiety and uncertainty that has got us all reeling now, or even some crazy, miserable combination of some or all of the above? Because someone might get their feelings hurt, because their circumstances happened to allow them to finish more quickly, and nothing unexpected happened in the interim? Lucky them! 

I reserve the right to make exceptions for people who are struggling to figure out how to juggle everything. You know why? Because I’m trying to do the same thing. If someone has told me why they need a couple of extra days, and I choose to allow them into the drawing, it is none of your business what they said, or why I made the decision I did. That is not public knowledge (unless they choose to make it so). 

I think you’ll find that I never said I would only include those who had given gifts by April 20, I said that guaranteed entry. Because a couple of days late, I can still work you in (if you’ve told me you’ll be late). A week+, I probably cannot. I always knew I was not going to be able to get the giveaway done immediately, due to timezones and checking on entries where I may not have been tagged, which gives a couple of days wiggle room. 

I am spending ONE-HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS to buy Cameos for people. I have worked my ass off trying to do this and about a thousand other things in the last month and a half to keep people entertained, to give them things to play and look forward to, to keep them occupied, to help them find their creativity in the face of a world gone mad. I go to bed most nights physically aching because I’m dealing with everything at home, plus helping with schoolwork, plus all this. Giveaways, events, stories. Everything I have to give. Which isn’t much, but it’s sure all I can offer. 

How dare you lecture me about how I choose to conduct any of this? 

I do not need your permission to amend rules (especially when said rules did not explicitly state in the first place what would exclude eligibility - unless you’d like to tell me where I said you definitively weren’t eligible if you were a little late?), nor did I ask for anyone else’s perspective on this. Again, if you want to organize an event, be my guest. 

Don’t want to obey my deadlines? Yeah, okay. Fine. What’s it to me? You’re only hurting someone else. Not me. I’m not getting a gift from this. I may be giving some to make up for those who don’t come through, but I’m not getting a thing. Just spending a whole hell of a lot of time and money to try to do something fun and enjoyable for people.  

If anyone’s so deeply insulted that I’m willing to give people a bit of leeway, then feel absolutely free to send me a message off anon and I’ll happily take you off the giveaway list. 

Before I finish this off, let me make one thing very clear: I try to be nice. Usually. But I think you will find I am not a pushover, and I do not take well to being lectured about how I choose to conduct myself or my own efforts when I am, as you put it, “head honcho.” I will do things as I please. 

Thank you for your input. 

[lovedsammy]

stars in my black and blue sky -(sam & castiel)

Coda to 14.13. The events of the altered timeline leave a profound effect on Sam and Castiel, one that neither of them can seem to shake without reopening - and healing - old wounds.

Note: I know I’m not the only one that was horrified about the fight that prev!timeline!Cas had with Sam in 14.13, right? Castiel has never physically harmed Sam like that before, and it disturbed me quite a bit. I figured it might’ve bothered Sam, too, and that was the reason for that anxious look he had when Cas came into the bunker at the end of the episode. I used this scenario to bring up instances where Cas HAS hurt Sam by breaking his wall or when Lucifer used his body to hurt Sam, and how this event triggered some of those memories for Sam. Because one thing about PTSD that is common is sometimes things happen, and they can be either completely unrelated or semi-related to the previous trauma, and it can bring it all back. Sam’s behavior in this fic is a result of that.

I also feel like it’s worth mentioning that some of these darker, self-deprecating thoughts are Sam’s, not mine. I disagree with how he views himself. But Sam has a habit of keeping his emotions inside, and trying to placate others when it comes to them. He brushes it off with “the problem’s me”; he’s said before, and that’s the tone I went with in this fic. Sam’s come a long way from his s5 self-blame days, but he still tends to make issues be his problem vs others who want to help him. That’s what people who’ve experienced PTSD and Depression do (I’m guilty of it), and it’s a very real mindset I wanted to address.

Here you go, guys! @avalonsilver @wendibird @sealionfoam @flightoftheseraph @stargazingbros @avacynangell @spectaculacularmooseketeer @winchestersoldiersblog @casquecest @sastiel-daily

Also on Ao3: 

-

Sam’s barely had a moment to gather himself, to try to slow the tremors in his still shaking hands, when he hears the bunker’s metallic door open. His mother and Dean, both blotchy-faced and red-eyed, exchange a quick glance with each other, and then at Sam. And as if on instinct, as though they are all thinking the same thought, they head into the main room. Sam’s heart lurches, and he tells himself not to cling to any half-hopes. They’d just seen John disappear minutes ago, and the temporal paradox should have corrected itself with him returning to the past. But maybe something went wrong, Sam reasons. Maybe it was already too late to change things back. And maybe, some selfish part of him hopes, they could really have Dad back for good. Maybe the universe, maybe God, was finally giving them a win for all that they’d sacrificed, maybe…

A whirlwind of beige and a flash of dark hair appears from behind the door, coming to a stop at the guard rail. It’s not John, but Cas. The presence of the angel was usually one that, for Sam, bestowed upon him a sense of peace and calming. He was his best friend, his family. A constant, gentle wave that always kept him afloat above the surface when Sam otherwise would’ve drowned. All of those long days and nights without Dean, stretching on into weeks and months…. Cas was the only other person besides his mother that Sam could remember being by his side for almost the entire time. Cas always had his back, and apart from Dean, he was the only other person to be involved in Sam’s life for as long as he had.

But instead of being a welcome sight, Sam finds that this time… he isn’t. And it takes him a moment to figure out why. It isn’t that he’d been wishing for his father instead; it’s something else entirely.

His body still aches from the earlier altercation with the angel - or the previous version of him, anyway, well before Cas had met him and Dean. But even with knowing the difference between the two, Sam can’t help the shudder of discomfort that radiates down his frame, and he is only half-aware of acclaiming a defensive stance, his expression wary.

“Mary. Sam, Dean,” Cas greets them, his eyes roving over each of them pleasantly, and displaying a softness that had been absent in the other Castiel. Nevertheless, Sam’s guard stays up, palms clammy at his side. He flexes his fingers, whether or not it’s to reach for an angel blade for protection or just out of nervousness, he’s not sure. Because if he looks hard enough, he can see that version of Cas still, and if he looks even harder… he can almost see Lucifer.

Castiel notices, because of course he does. His angelic powers could surely pick up on the mood of the room. It’s not just Sam that’s feeling apprehensive at his arrival, but Dean and Mary as well. Yet, Cas’s fixation lingers on Sam, his brows furrowing worriedly.

“What happened?” He asks.

“What happened,” Sam scoffs, and God, he feels so emotionally drained, still reeling from it all, that he can’t quite bring himself to speak. He looks to his brother for explanation, and he’s so damn grateful that Dean knows him so well, knows when Sam has reached his limit.

“Well, there’s a story,” Dean says. “Come on, let’s go talk in the kitchen. Where’s Jack?”

Cas gestures over his shoulder. “He’s getting our things from the trunk.”

“I’ll go help him,” Mary says hurriedly, and she brushes past her sons, giving each of them a gentle, comforting caress as she does. And Sam doesn’t know how she does it. How she can comfort them, her children, when she’s just lost the love of her life. How she could be so strong for them when she was coming apart at the seams herself. They were supposed to be the ones comforting her right now. It wasn’t the first time they’d lost Dad. For her, it was.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean’s hand on his shoulder pulls Sam from this thoughts, and he nods, realizing that Cas has joined them at the base of the stairs. He can feel the angel’s gaze on his back, but he doesn’t make any attempt to address him.

A few minutes later, Jack and Mary come find them sitting at the table in the kitchen, and the boy is just as concerned as Cas is about what transpired. He asks Sam outright, but Sam only shakes his head, not meeting anyone’s eyes. He wants to comfort Jack, to assure the kid that it was okay, that nothing was wrong, but he can’t. And he thinks that must make him a failure of a co-parent. All of this time, through everything that had happened, Sam had been strong enough to console Jack, to be there for him and encourage him. But right now it was like all of that strength that he’d somehow managed to conjure up through the past few months had all been drained out of him, leaving him fragile and withering, weakened.

Sam had thought he’d reached his breaking point the night with Dean outside the hospital after Donatello’s recovery, when he’d launched his fist into his brother’s face and clutched onto the back of his jacket in Dean’s arms. But it was just a precursor to this. He’s cried more in the past six months than he’d cried in his entire life, it seemed.

They remain there for a long, long time, well into the night.

It’s Dean who does most of the talking. Sam manages to chime in every once in a while, and Mary does so even less than her sons. When Sam does muster the courage to look at her, his mother’s expression is distant, faraway, reliving the past twelve hours. She holds on to her can of beer as gingerly as if she were still clutching onto John’s hand, afraid for the moment that she’ll have to let go. It’s a painful realization, that he and his mother were alike in that way, that they both tended to close off when dealing with things that hurt them.

At a quarter past two, Mary retreats back to her bedroom. Probably to cry her eyes out, Sam thinks. He’s not confident that he won’t do the same. Part of him wants to get up and escape back to his room, too, but he quells the urge down. He doesn’t think he’d be able to sleep, anyway. He’d only lie awake with his thoughts, the desires and regrets, especially of his father. But more than likely it would be the other, much darker corners of his mind, the thoughts that he was barely avoiding to succumbing to, that would haunt him. And he was going to put off facing those as long as he could. So he stays, finding some solace in being among his friends and family. Even with how conflicted he was feeling about being near Cas, it paled in comparison to the pain that he’d feel of being alone.

He reminds himself that this Cas, their Cas, has never done what the other version of him had done. He didn’t deserve the blame that Sam was indirectly casting at him. The angel had healed, protected, and safeguarded him, almost from the moment they’d met. Castiel had fought off Lucifer to keep Sam safe, and even his own brethren at times. So, Sam’s issues - they were his own, and he didn’t need to drag Cas into them.   

“Your father,” Castiel murmurs around his bottle of beer, awestruck. “I still can’t believe it. I wish I’d been here. I’d have liked to have met him.”

Dean snorts, getting up to toss out the empty beer cans. “Oh, yeah, buddy, believe me, I wish it’d been you, too. Not the asshat version of you with that dickbag Zachariah. You really were Heaven’s soldier. He tells you to kill, and damn, man, you listened.”

At the mention of the other Cas, Sam stiffens, clenching his jaw. “Dean -” He cuts in, warningly. But he must go unheard, because the angel speaks at the same time.

“What version of me?” Cas inquires, tilting his head. “Was there more to it than your father showing up? You said the timeline had changed, but… me and Zachariah…?”

Jack’s curiosity is once again piqued, as it had the entire time they had been explaining what happened. “Wait. Who’s Zachariah?”

Dean waves a hand absently. “Ah, he was just some jackass head honcho angel that we killed who wanted us to start the Apocalypse and really had it out for us. He was Cas’s boss. Anyway, uh, yeah…. I’m guessin’ time was trying to fix itself, like Sam said. You and Zach showed up to try and fix it, found out it was us, and tried to kill us. Almost did, too.”   

“Kill you?” Cas demands, incredulous, and for a second, the angel catches Sam’s eye, and it all seems to click in place. “That’s where all of those cuts and bruises on the two of you are from. I did that to you. I… I’m so sorry, I -”

Dean gives a one-shouldered shrug, finishing off his beer with one swig. “Nah. Hey, man, no hard feelings. You had a stick up your ass back then. It isn’t the first time you’ve beat the hell outta me. Besides, you’ve changed for the better, all right?” He reaches over to pat Sam’s face gently, and Sam soaks it up, amazed that even after all of these years, his big brother’s touch can still soothe him so easily. “Anyway, I’m gonna call it. ‘Night, Sammy. You know where I am if you need me.”

“Yeah. Night, Dean.”

He watches his brother leave, mouth going dry, and chugs the rest of his now warm beer. It burns the back of his throat, and he forcibly clears it. He wants to try and make conversation with Jack and Cas, but without Dean and his mother here, he suddenly feels exposed. Maybe he just needed the night to cool off, to reign in this state of panic he seemed to be in, and get a handle on it. That usually did the trick. If he managed to get some rest, he’d be good again in the morning. And he’d be able to brush off this - whatever this reaction was to his friend, and Castiel would be better off for it.

“You know, I, uh…” Sam says after a long moment, “I should… I should probably go to bed, too.” He flicks them a strained smile, and clamors to his feet. They’d gone slightly numb from sitting for so long. “Sorry if I… um, see you in the morning.”

Maybe tomorrow he wouldn’t feel so weird, so raw, and like something had broken in him. He gets to the doorway before Jack’s voice sounds from behind him, sad and desperate.

“Sam, wait,” The boy calls, and it makes Sam pause. Sam hates that it does. He can’t refuse the kid anything, even if it was at the expense of himself.  “Sam… are you all right? I’m worried about you. Please… just tell me if you’re not okay. Tell me how I can help.”

The question makes Sam open and close his mouth several times, and he surprises himself when he answers,  “I… I don’t know, Jack. I don’t… ”

He feels lost, in a haze, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol. He just stands there, staring at the floor, for what feels like an infinitely long time, in pregnant silence with nothing but the ticking of the clock. For a second, he wonders if he’s dissociating again, like during his post-wall days, unsure if Cas and Jack are even there, and resists the urge to finger the scar on his palm. This was real.

“Jack, can you give a moment to talk to Sam?” Castiel implores the nephilim after the pause, but his eyes are on Sam, who finally meets Castiel’s gaze guiltily, shamefully. Jack appears hesitant, his eyes glossed over and sorrowed, but a nod from Sam encourages him, and he leaves the two of them alone.

Sam wants to say something. Anything. “Cas - ” He tries.

“Sam… it’s not just what happened with your father that’s bothering you, is it? It’s much more than that.” Castiel appraises the younger Winchester, his features pained. “It’s about what happened in the alternate timeline. With the other me.”

Sam stiffly nods. “Yeah,” He says, hoarsely. There was no point in being dishonest, not when Cas could already tell that something was going on with him.

Cas knowingly returns the gesture. “I understand. I hurt you, and I tried to kill you, as well as Dean.”

“Yeah. Well, not you-you,” Sam quickly amends, because damn it all if he was going to let Cas carry the burden for this. “It was the you before you met us. Or, from another dimension or something. But it wasn’t you. And that’s… that’s something that I need to keep telling myself, because it’s so damn stupid that I can’t seem to stop myself from - from reacting like this. It’s not your fault that I can’t deal with my own bullshit.”

“Don’t,” Cas interjects sternly. “Don’t you dare turn this on yourself. Whatever it is that you’re feeling, whatever it is that you need to express, do it. If you need to hurt me back, do it.”

Sam pales, stunned. How could Cas even suggest that? “Cas, I couldn’t… I couldn’t do that to you, man. I’m not gonna hurt you just to make myself feel better. In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never hurt me, so why would I -”

“Now we both know that’s not true,” Castiel disagrees kindly. “I may not have splintered your bones or drawn your blood, but I’m no less guilty of hurting you than that version of me had. I tore down your wall and made you relive the horrors of the cage, and experience all of that suffering all over again.”

The admission makes Sam’s chest clench in remembrance. He practically chokes out, “Cas, I… I’ve forgiven you for that. You know that. It’s not the same thing.”

Castiel sighs. “Yes, maybe you have. Even when you shouldn’t have, you have. But what about how I hurt you when I let Lucifer possess me, and he drove his fist - my fist - into your chest cavity? Was that not a horrible violation to you?”

“Yeah, but you saved me,” Sam answers, readily. “You fought back, you took control, and you stopped him.”

Castiel takes a couple of steps towards him, and Sam has to fight the urge to flinch. “Sam... let me ask you… right now, do you see me? The other me? Or do you still, at times, see Lucifer?”

The question is still spoken in that soft, empathetic tone that Cas has used so many times with him, and yet it leaves Sam breathless. At his reaction, Castiel continues.

“You’ve experienced a great deal of trauma, Sam, and some of it has been at my hand. I am truly sorry for that. This was yet another instance. You need time to process it, and hopefully come to terms with it and be even stronger for it. But that isn’t something you can make yourself do over night. And you never need to feel sorry for reacting to something that has affected you, especially if it involves me.”

Sam’s vision blurs with wetness, and he quickly swipes at his eyes and exhales hollowly. “I thought I was past it. Or at least the worst of it. After Lucifer died, and I confronted Nick, I thought… I thought maybe the fear wouldn’t be as bad, you know? That maybe all that he’d done would just leave like he did.”

“Often, a completely unrelated - or even related - event can trigger a fear response to a situation,” Castiel tells him gently. “The human mind is incredibly resilient, but also very fragile if it’s hurt enough. Your strength amazes me everyday, Sam, but even the strongest people have their breaking point. With everything that has happened recently with Dean, and your father, and now this. It’s no surprise that your mind and body are reacting this way. It takes its toll.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Castiel understands, and that was all that he needed from him.

The angel finally approaches Sam further, and this time, Sam doesn’t flinch away. “I am truly sorry for what happened, Sam. I’m sorry that I hurt you, no matter which version of me it ended up being. I’m sorry for this - and all the other times.”

The younger Winchester feels a weight lift off of him. Not enough, but a bit. “It’s okay, Cas. I don’t blame you. Not really. I forgive you. I just… you needed to know, I guess. But… don’t feel guilty about it, okay? I’m glad, so glad, that despite what happened, despite Dad, and everything… that you’re who you are now. Like Dean said: you’ve grown. You’ve changed. And man, even… even with who you were back then. It wasn’t bad then, either. You weren’t. It was the situation, just like this time.”

“And the reasons for those changes are down the hall and standing right here in front of me,” Castiel smiles. “You and Dean, and now Jack - you’ve made me who I am. You saw it. I was just another, obedient, mindless soldier who had very little regard for my father’s creation. I was merely emulating what my brothers and sisters believed, and did what my superiors directed. Heaven is my family, Sam, but it’s not my only family. And while on the subject of family… I am so glad that you were able to speak with your father. I know you’ve wanted that for so long.”

“Me too,” Sam croaks. “We said some things that, uh… needed to be said. For years. I feel like we finally understood each other. And I feel…” He considers. “I feel lighter, when I think about him, you know? Like some part of me has finally healed.”

“You got closure.”

“Yeah. Closure.”

“Sam. May I?”

The question is readable on Castiel’s face, and after a few seconds, Sam closes his eyes in assent. The fingers that tickel his forehead are warm and so is the grace as it flows through him, leaving his skin unblemished and no longer painful, healing.

Sam feels himself start to relax for the first time that day.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” Castiel asks.

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I can try.”

The angel nods. “All right. In that case, I’ll go talk to Jack. He’s probably still worried.”

“Let him know that I’m okay,” Sam says. “And that… tomorrow, I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him everything. It’s time that he knew.”

He knows by the look on Castiel’s face that he understands what Sam means, and that it wasn’t just what transpired over the past day, but a lifetime of events that lead up to this. His friend jerks his head in response.

“In that case, I’ll leave you to your rest. Good night, Sam. If you need anything… just let me know.”

“‘Course,” Sam smiles, and this time, it’s genuine. “Night, Cas.”

He heads to his bed room, shaking his head with amusement at the sound of deep-rumbling snores coming from Dean’s room, and plants face first down onto his bed. He falls asleep within minutes, and there are no nightmares that night to plague him.  

[write-havoc]

The Glasswing Butterfly Part 14

Summary: Chuck has never thought of herself as anything special. Just an average beta living her life next door to a womanizing alpha named Negan. But her life, and Negan’s too, are turned upside down when Chuck suddenly presents as omega.

This is a non-zombie AU featuring A/B/O dynamics.

Fandom: The Walking Dead AU

Pairing: Negan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Negan’s teeth pierce the tender skin of Chuck’s mating spot sending a wave of euphoria through her body. The world melts away as all she feels is his arms tightly around her, his knot firmly inside her, and his claim on her neck. Warmth spreads from his bite throughout her body, filling her with a feeling of contentment.

This is what she wants. This is what’s meant to be. To be Negan’s. To be his mate.

At least that’s what her omega side is thinking.

Negan’s bite holds tight to her neck as his knot remains inside her. Only when his knot diminishes does he pull away, pulling her along with him to both lay on their sides. He lightly licks at the wound he had just made on her to clean it of blood and ensure that it heals quickly.

Within minutes, both of them are asleep which gives them a temporary respite from their raging hormones. It only lasts about an hour before they’re at it again, all growls and groping hands. It’s passionate and needy on both their parts. All they are thinking about is being with each other and that’s it.

After several hours of sex and catnaps, Negan knows his mate needs to eat. Despite her protests, he leaves the bedroom to make them both some sandwiches. They barely get them down before they’re all over each other again.

By the third day, they’ve slowed down as their energies ebb with the ending of their heat/rut, but the urge to be together is just as strong. Negan nuzzles his nose into her now claimed mating spot as he pushes into her with a lazy rhythm. After the claim, the scent coming from her neck is now forever changed. Hers is still there, but now it’s mixed with his. As he smells himself on her, it has a sense of pride blooming inside him.

This is my omega he thinks. I’m gonna take fuckin’ care of her forever.

Chuck’s primitive omega side is thinking similar things. About how she’ll always support him. Bear him all the pups he could ever want. Raise strong alpha sons and beautiful omega daughters for him. Tend his home with all the things he’ll provide.

As she gets closer to her end, she puts her nose to his neck, breathing in his scent. Alphas don’t get claimed like omegas, but she can’t seem to keep her mouth away from his spot. He growls as she places an open mouthed kiss to his sensitive skin. It spurs her further and she places her teeth on the area in a light bite.

“Oh fuck,” he groans.

The sensation of her teeth on his neck is too much and he can’t hold back any longer. As he comes to his climax, Chuck goes over the edge as well.

Both of them are just about out of energy, but Negan manages to clean Chuck up of the used condom and get back into bed with her resting on his chest. They both fall asleep almost immediately and sleep through the night for the first time in three days.

The next morning, Negan awakes feeling completely drained since his hormones are back to normal. The memories of the last few days are hazy, but they sharpen in focus the second he sees the fresh claim on Chuck’s neck.

“Shit,” he mutters as his eyes go wide. “Fuck,” he says louder.

The sound wakes Chuck up. She’s just as dazed as Negan was, but when her hand goes up to her sore neck, her eyes slam open at the feel of the wound on her neck. She pushes herself up from Negan and looks at him.

“You claimed me?!”

“I didn’t fuckin’ mean to!” he yells back. Emotions are high for both of them at the moment.

Chuck jumps out of bed and runs to the bathroom to look at the new mark. “Oh my god!” she calls out upon seeing the textbook claim.

Negan gets out of bed and finds his boxers on the ground. “I didn’t fuckin’ mean to!” he says again as he pulls the boxers up his legs.

Chuck stomps back out to meet him. “You didn’t mean to?! Are you telling me your teeth accidentally , somehow , bit into my neck !” she bites back.

He throws his hands up. “I’m saying I didn’t fuckin’ intend to fucking mark you!”

She shakes her head as she puts on the pajamas she found on the floor. “Well,” she straightens up to look right at him, “you did mark me.”

“This isn’t all on me, Chuck,” he barks back. “ You fuckin’ presented to me. You bared your fuckin’ throat to me. I was in goddamn rut and you expect me ignore that shit!”

It hits Chuck all at once, the memories of the last few days. She had presented. She had bared her neck. Despite what she had thought and what she had said to Negan before her heat hit, her body had gone through the motions all on its own. It had granted permission and Negan, similarly under control of his baser instincts, had accepted.

Her eyes well up as she looks at Negan with his face twisted in anger, her own fury rapidly dissipating. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “You’re right. It was both of us.”

Just one look at Chuck’s expression has his emotions turning, as well. “It’s okay,” he says gently as he walks forward to wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry.” His only thought now is to comfort her and calm her down.” I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby girl. I did take what you said seriously, but I just... I couldn’t fuckin’ stop myself.” He starts to lightly run his hand over her hair. “If you want to reverse the claim-“ he starts quietly, but Chuck pushes him away to look him in the eye.

“No!” she interrupts immediately. It startles her how automatic it is. “I don’t want that.” She wipes at her eyes. “I-I knew we would be mated. I wanted it, but... I just wanted more time to prepare, I guess. But now...”

“Yeah. I wanted to wait, too.” He nods his head sadly. “I was afraid to have a mate again,” he admits hesitantly.

“You’re afraid?” She’s confused.

He nods again. “Being mated... It’s intense. The feelings are so much more than anything else,” he explains. “The way I feel about you...” he lets out a breath, “it’s already... different. I was afraid...” he trails off, unsure of how to say what he wants to.

She’s struggling to understand him. “You’re afraid... of me?”

“No,” he answers instantly. “Not you. I’m afraid...” He shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’ll feel that way about me. That you’ll fuckin’... love me like that. And that I’ll fuckin’ disappoint you and break your heart.” He looks away. “I couldn’t stand it if I fuckin’ did that to you.”

“Negan...” She lays her hand on his cheek. “I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Have you lied to me?”

He shakes his head.

“Have you hidden anything from me?”

“No.”

“Then why shouldn’t I trust you?” She smiles up at him and he can’t help but return it.

“All I want is to protect you, baby girl.” He takes her chin in his hand and pulls her face toward his in a kiss. “Now that you’re my mate, that feeling is gonna fuckin’ multiply. It’s...” He pauses to try to put it into words. “People get shit wrong about alphas and omegas. They think the alpha is the head fuckin’ honcho in the relationship. I guess that’s probably true for abusive knotheads, but that’s not how it’s supposed to be. An alpha should live for his omega. Her life is much more important than his.” He sets his forehead on hers. “It’s a lot of responsibility and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up again,” he whispers.

She tilts her head to kiss his lips. “You won’t,” she whispers back.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she replies with certainty.

He chuckles and kisses her back. “Well alright then.” He’s still afraid of making mistakes, but her faith in him means the world to him.

“We need a shower,” she comments with a laugh.

“We really do,” he replies. “After that, I’ll make us something to eat. I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“Me, too.”

The whole rest of they day, with their heat/rut taking a lot out of them, they lounge about. They practically eat themselves out of house and home to replenish their energies then cuddle on the couch in front of the tv until they go to bed again.

In the morning, Chuck invites Diane over. She figures that it’s best to tell her in person that she and Negan are now mated to each other. As Negan and Chuck wait for Diane’s arrival, they both nervously mill around the apartment.

“Is your mom gonna fuckin’ kill me?” Negan finally asks.

“I don’t think so...?” Chuck answers without a lot of confidence.

“Shit. She was just starting to fuckin’ like me.”

“She’ll understand when we tell her it was both of our decisions. I think.” She shrugs a little. “At least we can tell her that I’m not gonna be pregnant since somehow we managed to stay safe the entire time.”

“That’s something, I suppose,” he mutters. “You should probably call the doc to tell her this shit, too.”

“Yeah. I guess I should.” Chuck quickly calls Dr. Bailey and sets up an appointment for the next day to meet with her.

As she’s finishing up with that, the intercom buzzes and Negan answers it.

“It’s Diane,” comes through the speaker.

Negan presses the button to buzz her in and turns back to Chuck, who is now done on the phone.

“Here we go,” she says. There’s no way to hide the fresh claim on her neck, so the second Diane looks at her, she’ll know.

And that’s exactly what happens the moment she walks through the door.

“You claimed her?!” Diane yells as she glares at Negan.

“It’s not Negan’s fault,” Chuck tries.

“Did you two discuss it beforehand or was it just what Negan wanted?” Diane spits.

Negan wants to fight back, but he knows that will just make things worse, so he stays quiet.

“Mom!” Chuck calls out. “I’m telling you it wasn’t just Negan. It was both of us. Neither of us could control it.”

Diane still looks mad. “Did you use protection?” she huffs out.

“Yes. We did,” Chuck answers. “Don’t be mad at Negan for this.”

Diane looks over to the man, who has his head hung low. She sees that he isn’t talking back or making excuses, but she’s unsure why?  “Did you plan this?” she asks bluntly.

He shoots his head up to answer. “Absolutely not. I would never intend to hurt her like that.” He takes in a deep breath. “I know this is more on me and I take that fuckin’ responsibility-“

“No,” Chuck interrupts. “If I hadn’t given you those signals, you wouldn’t have marked me. I know it.”

Diane looks between the two and sees that Chuck isn’t lying. She seems okay with all of this, so Diane figures she should be okay with it, too. “So... This is happening now?”

Chuck and Negan both nod.

“Okay then,” Diane says almost to herself. “As long as you’re both happy, I guess everything is good. But I won’t hesitate to get Chuck away from you if you break her heart,” she directs at Negan.

“If I broke her heart, I’d let you,” is all he says.

 The next day, Chuck and Negan get ready for their appointment with Dr. Bailey. Since it’s been about three weeks since the news broke about Eldritch, the press have mostly moved onto other stories. Especially since Chuck and Negan have made it completely clear that they won’t ever sit down for an interview. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t the odd reporter still trying to make a story out of them, which Chuck and Negan are aware of.

As Negan drives them to the medical center, he notices a car making the same turns as him. “Fuck,” he growls as he checks the rear view.

“What?” Chuck asks.

His voice is gruff as he answers. “We’re being followed.”

Chuck looks back to see. “I don’t see...”

“The red Nissan.”

She looks closer and finds the car just as it turns off. “Well they’re not following us now.”

Negan just lets out a low growl. Since he’s newly mated, the urge to protect his omega is high.

His reaction as well as his general temperament have her a little worried. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? You seem tense.”

“I just don’t want those fuckers coming after you.”

“I don’t think anyone’s coming after me, Negan.”

“Not if I can fuckin’ help it.”

They get to Dr. Bailey’s office and are directed to one of the exam rooms. After a few minutes of waiting, she comes in carrying her laptop in one hand.

“Hello.” She shakes both of their hands and sets her computer on the small table, readying it for the information she will enter into it. “So,” she starts. “How’s your arm?”

Chuck lifts her casted left arm a little. “It’s not too bad, really. More annoying than anything else now.”

“That’s good, but that’s not why you’re here, is it. I’d like to look at the mark, if I could.” Dr. Bailey gestures to the exam table.

“Sure.” Chuck hops up on the bed and moves her strawberry blonde hair away from the left side of her neck.

Dr. Bailey looks at the bite for a moment then pulls back. “Looks great. Full claim. Nice and clean. Looks like it’s healing just fine.” She sits down in the chair in front of her laptop and starts typing.

Chuck gets off of the exam table and sits back down in the regular chair by Negan.

“So,” Dr. Bailey finishes typing and looks to the pair. “Being mated now traditionally means you will be more in tuned with each other. Since that was already the case, I’m not exactly sure what to expect of this. The feelings may be more intense or it might just be more of the same. Negan,” she looks at him, “how does it feel to you? Is it similar to your first mating experience?”

He clears his throat as he thinks it over. He normally wouldn’t talk about this kind of stuff, but trusts Dr. Bailey, so he opens up. “I guess. I mean, it does feel more...” he thinks about what he wants to say, “I guess I’m more fuckin’ anxious that I won’t be able to make her happy or keep her safe. That’s all I want.”

Chuck reaches over to grab his hand. “You don’t have to worry about that, Negan.”

“I can’t fuckin’ help it. With Lucille...” He shakes his head. “I loved her and I wanted to take care of her. But I wasn’t a good fuckin’ husband. I was unfaithful and I know I fuckin’ hurt her. It’s not that I didn’t fuckin’ care she was hurt. It’s like I just fuckin’ put it out of my mind so I could still do whatever the fuck I wanted.” He lets out a huff and hangs his head. “I was so goddamn selfish.”

Dr. Bailey, who was a friend to Lucille and knows very well how Lucille felt about Negan’s infidelities, can’t stop herself from asking what’s on her mind. “Do you think you’ll be selfish with Chuck?”

He looks over to his mate to see her expectant face. “Every fuckin’ bone in my body is fuckin’ telling me that I’d fuckin’ die for her. And if anything happened to her, I’d go fuckin’ crazy.” He lets out a breath. “I was bad after Lucille, but I’d never come back if I lost you,” he says to Chuck.

Looking in his eyes, Chuck can see how genuine he is. She’s not sure how to respond. “Negan...” She reaches her hand out to caress his cheek.

“I need to ask you, Negan,” Dr. Bailey interrupts the moment, “given what you did to protect Chuck before she was your mate, do you feel you could become violent again?”

“If someone was hurting her, ab-so-fuckin’-lutely,” he answers quickly.

“I suppose I mean, would you become violent in inappropriate situations? If, say, someone bumped into her in the street.”

He lets out a huff. “I can control myself, if that’s what you’re fuckin’ asking.”

“He got paranoid on the way here that we were being followed,” Chuck mentions.

He looks over to her. “I wasn’t fuckin’ paranoid . They were following us for a few goddamn blocks. If you don’t remember, reporters fuckin’ followed us before.”

“I remember. But even if they do follow us, they know not to approach us. No one’s even tried to talk to us for like a week.”

He lets out a little growl which has Dr. Bailey raising an eyebrow. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ kill anyone,” he reassures.

Dr. Bailey nods. “I just want you to keep your head, Negan.”

“I will, doc,” he replies with some attitude.

“Good. Now,” Dr. Bailey lets out a breath. “Now that you’re mated, the issue of pups really needs to be discussed.

Both Chuck and Negan are slightly uncomfortable with the subject. The most they’ve talked about it with each other is that they don’t want kids right at the moment. Beyond that, they haven’t discussed it.

Dr. Bailey sees the discomfort in them. “Have you talked about it?”

They both look at each other before Chuck answers. “Not really. We’ve been using protection, but...”

“We aren’t rushing,” Negan finishes the thought.

“Since Chuck can’t take suppressants, the urge to have a child will build the longer you continue to have heats and ruts without actually getting pregnant.”

Chuck didn’t know that. “Really?”

“Will it be fuckin’ dangerous for her?” Negan asks. “Will her heats get bad like before?”

“No,” Dr. Bailey answers. “But there’s a strong possibility you’ll both just be less in control. More feral.”

Chuck and Negan give each other a look.

“It’s something to think about,” Dr. Bailey adds. “Again, we’re in uncharted territory. You may be able to keep it together until you both decide you’re ready. But maybe...”

Chuck completes her sentence. “Maybe we’ll be too hormonal to care and I’ll get pregnant during my next heat.”

“It’s certainly a possibility,” Dr. Bailey comments. “Especially given how the claim went.”

After a few more minutes of discussion, Chuck and Negan bid farewell to the doctor and head home. They happen to hit rush hour congestion, so it makes the trip back longer.

“Goddamnit,” Negan groans as he brings the car to a stop. “I’m so fuckin’ sick of this city.”

“I kinda am, too. Since I’m not working, it’s like I don’t have any reason to want to be here.”

“I wanna get on looking for fuckin’ houses when we get back home.” He looks over to Chuck for a moment. He’d been wanting to move for a little while now, but now that Chuck is his mate, he wants to make an actual home for her. “And I guess I should look for a goddamn job,” he adds unenthusiastically.

“I’ve been looking around online already. I found some companies that will let me work from home full time. I sent out some resumes, so I just need to hear back.”

“Rick mentioned that there are some empty houses in his neighborhood in Alexandria up north. It’s a newer fuckin’ community I guess. Maybe we could look at those.”

Chuck smiles at the thought. “That would be nice. And it’s really not any further away from my mom than we already are.” She hesitates before asking what she wants to. “Is there a school close by?”

“Did the doc give you baby fever?” he jokes.

She chuckles. “No. I was thinking for you. Maybe... you could apply for a job there.” She smiles at him, hoping that he won’t be mad at the suggestion. The subject of him teaching again got brought up at Thanksgiving, but Negan dismissed it and hasn’t mentioned it since.

He looks over to her and lets out a sigh. “I don’t know...”

“It would make you happy.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “They might not fuckin’ let me set foot in a school again.”

“Rick would vouch for you.”

He looks back over to her. “Maybe.”

“You know he would. And I bet the people you used to work with would, too. Like that guy I met when you took me to the baseball field.”

The cars finally start to move ahead of them.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Negan mutters and pushes the car forward.

“I want you to be happy,” Chuck blurts out.

Negan glances over to her. “I am happy. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what fuckin’ job I have as long as we’re together.”

His words make her smile, but she doesn’t want to let on how much they mean to her. “That was pretty cliche,” she jokes.

“What? That was fuckin’ romantic as shit!”

She laughs. “It was, like, former-a-list-star-but-can’t-get-any-good-movies-so-they-do-a-crappy-rom-com level romantic.”

“No it fuckin’ wasn’t! It was like...” He struggles for a relevant comeback. “I don’t know shit about rom coms. What was that one with the guy and the girl and the lake and everyone fuckin’ loves it?”

She laughs at his description as she tries to think of what he’s talking about. “Uh... The Notebook?”

“Yeah! The fuckin’ Notebook. It was like that.”

“I’ve never seen it. I think they die in it or something.”

“Oh shit. Then not like that. It’s like one of those sappy happy ending ones.”

She giggles. “Let’s hope.”

When they get back to their apartment building, they start to look up available houses. They set up some appointments for houses nearby and some near Fredericksburg to be close to Diane as well as the houses in Rick’s neighborhood. Over the next few days, they start to visit them.

The first house is just outside of Charlottesville, so it’s not too far away from their apartments. It’s been recently renovated and completely modern with all new appliances and a chic paint job. After the realtor goes through her whole spiel, she leaves the couple to wander the house on their own.

“It’s cute,” Chuck comments.

“Cute?” Negan replies. “It’s fuckin’ tiny. No yard. And there’s barely enough room for any counters in the kitchen. It only has two goddamn bedrooms and the second one is as big as a fuckin’ closet.”

“So pass?”

“Definite pass.”

The next one is closer to Fredericksburg and is a huge Victorian in need of some repairs.

“This shit is gorgeous!” Negan calls out as he gestures all around him. “Look at all the hand carved wood.”

Chuck looks to what he’s talking about. It certainly was gorgeous... about fifty years ago. Now everything needs refinished. And some fresh paint wouldn’t hurt. “We’d have to put a lot more money into it. And it’s a little big for just us,” she comments.

“Room for pups!” the realtor replies, desperately trying to get rid of this property.

Both Chuck and Negan stop themselves from glaring at the young beta woman. It seems like the second people know they’re a newly mated pair, all they think about is “when are you having children?” It’s annoying for both of them.

Negan turns back to Chuck. “Maybe you’re right.”

“It would be beautiful to the right buyers,” Chuck mentions to the realtor diplomatically. “People who are good at renovating, anyway.”

After a few more days and a few more houses that didn’t quite fit for them, they travel up to Alexandria to look at the available houses in the little community that Rick lives in. They turn off the main road and drive a ways before they come to a nice sign saying “Welcome to Monroe Estates.” As they drive past the sign and further in, they see beautiful manicured lawns sitting in front of perfect suburban homes.

“This looks really nice,” Chuck mentions as she looks out the window.

They pass a row of townhouses, which Negan sneers at. “I don’t like that shit. What’s the point of living in the goddamn suburbs if you’re gonna have to share your fuckin’ walls and have a small ass yard.”

Chuck points off to the right. “Those houses have big yards.”

“That’s more like it.”

They continue on to the address the realtor sent them, pulling up to the fairly large gray sided house with a raised front porch. They get out of the car and meet the realtor at the door.

“Hello!” the cheery beta male greets then leads them inside.

“All of the houses in this area were built within the last ten years and I helped sell every single one of them,” he explains happily. “In that time, Alexandria has really blossomed into a tight knit community. But it’s still close to various shops, including grocery stores and markets and also a very good school district.”

“I actually know someone here,” Negan comments. “Rick Grimes.”

“The sheriff, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s just a few houses down.”

The realtor goes over all the details of the home, three bedrooms, two and a half baths, hard wood flooring, granite counters, two car garage. The more Chuck and Negan see, the more excited they get. When the realtor steps out to allow them the chance to talk, they instantly turn to each other and speak at the same time.

“I fuckin’ love it.”

“This is the one.”

They both smile at each other.

“You really like it?” Negan asks.

“Yeah. I do. I love the whole neighborhood. And this house is perfect. As long as the price is right, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he’s quick to say

“I don’t want to start out our lives swimming in debt. I still have student loans to pay off.”

He pulls her into him by the hips. “I have savings enough to make a hefty down payment. And you’re gonna start your new job as soon as you get that fuckin’ cast off in a few days.”

She gives him a little kiss. “And you’re gonna see about getting a job at one of those schools that guy mentioned.”

He nods with a little smirk on his face. “I will. But the school year already started, so I’m not gonna get my fuckin’ hopes up.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe something will open up. You never know.”

“I’d be further ahead going into town and getting a job at that fuckin’ grocery store he mentioned.”

She giggles. “Be a bag boy?”

“I’d own that shit. Best damn bag boy ever.”

She laughs more loudly. “You’d help old ladies carry their groceries to the car?”

“Old ladies fuckin’ love me,” he comments with all of his confidence.

“Maybe you could get tips,” she jokes. “Show them some leg.”

“Shit yeah! We’d have this house paid off in no time.”

When the realtor comes back in, he finds the pair giggling in each other’s arms. “What are we thinking?” he asks. “I can show you a unit in the town houses.”

“No.” Negan lets go of Chuck to turn to the man. “We’ll take this one.”

After going over all the pertinent details, they start to get the ball rolling on the paperwork. They won’t be able to move in until after the new year in a few weeks, but that doesn’t matter to them. All either of them can think about is that they are one step closer to making a new life together.

[crossbowking]

The Road Ahead : Chapter 8

Chapter Index HERE

Summary : (Set in the beginning of season 1) Anna Brooks lost everything after the world ended — the last remaining part of herself being her older brother, who she lost contact with after communications dropped. While en route towards Atlanta to find him, Anna’s truck breaks down, leaving her at the mercy of the cruel new world. Now, Anna must face her fears head on as she struggles to deal with devastating loss, constant danger, and finding her way in a land that now belongs to the dead. But sometimes, a glimmer of hope can be found disguised as a short-tempered, hard-headed redneck who may just save her life in more ways than one.

Pairings : Daryl x Original Female Character

Warnings : Slow-Burn, Language/Violence/typical Walking Dead themes

Author’s Note : I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who comments on these chapters! I love interacting with you babes and it makes me so incredibly happy to hear your thoughts and feelings about each chapter! It makes this whole thing totally worth it. If you’ve been hesitant to reach out,  don’t be shy! We’re all family here! (Obviously, thank you to EVERYONE who reads, even if you’re just one of my ghost readers - I appreciate ALL OF YOU.)

Happy reading!!!

xx crossbowking

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Previously…

Anna’s stomach dropped as she spun around, simultaneously raising her gun, coming face to face with…a crossbow. Chest heaving, her eyes landed on the person holding the weapon and her stomach dropped.

It was the man from the road — the man who saved her life.

Except for this time, he wasn’t looking at her with guarded eyes, curiously inquiring about her life, offering her shelter and safety.

This time, his expression was cold and calculating, unflinching as his finger twitched towards the trigger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now…

Time seemed to stand still as Anna stood toe to toe with the archer, each training their weapons on the other, both refusing to back down.

“Daryl, enough!” she heard Rick call from behind her, but the archer simply narrowed his eyes.

Anna couldn’t comprehend the character shift she was witnessing from the man in front of her. Just two days ago, he was willing to go up against his own brother for her sake. He’d saved her life, fixed her truck and on top of all that, offered her a place in his group. What the hell could’ve happened since then to manifest this hostility?

She’d clearly been wrong about the archer — she’d believed he was a decent man, most likely one of the only ones left on Earth. But she was wrong. He was just like everyone else — dangerous, cruel and out for themselves.

Whatever was going on with him, Anna wasn’t going to play into it. She huffed a breath when Daryl still refused to stand down, slowly lowering her weapon, standing with her arms out at her sides. “Go ahead,” she challenged. “Finish what your brother couldn’t,” she leveled coldly, watching a flash of something flicker through Daryl’s eyes.

She heard footsteps rapidly approach and then the sheriff was standing beside them, looking impatient as he held a hand out towards Daryl. “I said enough, Daryl,” Rick stated lowly, giving him a stern look.

Daryl finally pulled his eyes away from hers, shooting the sheriff a nasty look. “Who the hell died an’ made you head honcho, huh?” the archer spat. But still, he lowered his crossbow.

“Come on, you guys,” Glenn suddenly urged, a desperation to his voice. “We’ve got bigger issues here.”

“The kid’s right,” T-Dog interjected, taking a step closer. “We need ta’ get movin’. It’s already gettin’ dark.”

“This is y’all’s fault ta’ begin with, ya know,” Daryl shot back, pushing past Anna without a second glance. “If y’all hadn’t left him on the roof like some kinda god damn animal, this could’a been avoided,” he snapped, beginning to pace back and forth

Anna turned on her heel, confusion spreading over her face, a million questions racing through her mind. But she didn’t say anything — it wasn’t her place and all she really wanted to do was get the hell out of the city.

“Merle was out of control, Daryl. He was —”

“Ta’ hell with all y’all!” Daryl growled, cutting Glenn off, waving his hand around angrily.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s probably headed back to camp right now — we need to go,” Glenn continued, ignoring the archer’s outburst.

“Well, c’mon then!” Daryl commanded, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and storming away. Glenn and T-Dog looked between Anna and Rick with uncertainty, before taking a couple steps back, motioning for the sheriff to follow.

Anna fully expected the sheriff to take off — but when he remained steadfast, she glanced up at him, surprised to see that his eyes were trained on her. “You gonna be alright?” Rick suddenly asked, a hint of worry in his gaze.

“Huh?” Anna retorted, puzzled. She had met a lot of people after the world ended — but she had never met a man like Rick Grimes. “What? Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she shook off, her eyes wary as she tried to figure out his angle here — and more importantly, why he gave a shit about whether or not she would be ‘alright’.

“C’mon, Rick! Ain’t got time ta’ sit ‘round the campfire singin’ kumbaya!” Daryl snapped, becoming more and more agitated from ahead.

Anna shot the archer a dark look, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Daryl leveled her stare icily. She tore her gaze from his, pushing down whatever insult she was about to hurl at him. Rick gave her an apologetic look as he ran a hand over his face. “Take care a’ yourself, alright?” he murmured, Anna nodding slowly in return.

Then, with nothing more left to say, he started jogging towards the other men.

Anna’s eyes trailed back over to the archer, who was watching her intently as she began making her way towards her truck. She yanked the door open as Rick met up with the others, the tail end of an argument between the archer and sheriff floating through the air.

“— not right to jus’ leave her like that.”

“Ain’t our damn responsibility!”

“It wasn’t right.”

“Oh, so now ya’ll got some kinda damn moral compass? What ‘bout my brother?”

“Listen to me — if Merle goes back to camp an’ pulls anythin’, I mean anythin’ —”

“Lemme handle my brother, alright?”

“That is my wife an’ my son there. If anything happens —”

That was the last thing Anna heard as she watched the four men begin jogging down the railroad track, their voices fading the farther they got.

Anna pulled herself into her truck, tossing her backpack onto the passenger seat, and exhaled heavily. It was hard for her to comprehend what just happened — between the hostility from Daryl, the unwarranted kindness from Rick, and hearing the vague details about some incident involving Merle, it was a lot to process. A shiver wracked through her at the thought of Merle and their previous encounter, her fingers absently grazing the cut on her throat.

Anna pushed away the unsettling memory and started the truck, her eyes unwillingly trailing back towards the four men getting smaller and smaller in the distance. She took a breath, ready to start her trek to Fort Benning, but something stopped her.

She tried to ignore the nagging sensation in her heart, the inexplicable pull she felt towards the men she’d come across. But no matter how much she rationalized things — the journey ahead, the desire to find her brother, the fact that the men were complete strangers to her — there was one small fact that kept her from driving off and never looking back — and that was Daryl.

Because regardless of his sudden shift in behavior and whether she liked to admit it or not…he had saved her life. And the fact of the matter was that she owed him.

Anna groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Shit,” she mumbled, kicking herself for what she was about to do. Then, she put her truck into drive and started speeding off in the direction she’d seen the men last.

Anna caught up to the group only a few minutes later, impressed by the amount of distance they’d covered in such a short amount of time. Then before she could stop herself, she leaned her head out of the open window. “Hey!” she called out, the men stopping dead in their tracks, regarding her cautiously, all four out of breath. She sighed, her features softening. “Want a ride?”

The men shot each other wary looks before Rick ultimately stepped forward. “We couldn’t ask —”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” Anna interjected, motioning them forward with her hand. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride back to your camp.”

Rick made the first move forward, Glenn and T-Dog following in suit. Anna locked eyes with Daryl, who clenched and unclenched his jaw, before storming towards the bed of the truck and jumping in. The sheriff slid into the passenger seat, placing Anna’s backpack in the back seat as Glenn and T-Dog joined Daryl in the cargo area. “Thank you,” Rick spoke once he slammed the door shut. “You didn’t have ta’ do this.”

“I know,” Anna nodded, shooting the archer a look through her rearview mirror. “But I owe the prick back there a favor,” she grumbled, not needing to clarify who she was talking about.

Rick just nodded, pointing out which road ahead to turn on.

Anna began driving, flipping on her headlights as the sun began to fade. Her mind raced a mile a minute, demanding for her to explain just what in the hell had gotten into her. She had avoided other survivors at all costs, people time and time again proving just how cruel the human race could be. She worked well alone, solitude agreeing with her for the most part — sure, it was a lonely existence, but it was safe. She had survived thus far and had to attribute that towards her decision to be on her own.

But here she was, hauling four strangers to god knows where. How did she know there was even a camp? How did she know this wasn’t just a ploy to ambush her? To steal her things? Maybe even worse?

But as she glanced at Rick from the corner of her eye and at Daryl, Glenn, and T-Dog through her rearview mirror, she felt nothing. No hint of worry, no subtle nudge of discomfort, no feeling in her gut telling her to ditch them and run — even after her not-so-friendly reunion with Daryl.

Maybe it was because deep down, Anna’s will to survive was slowly dwindling. Maybe she’d finally reached that point of acceptance where she just truly didn’t care about what happened to her anymore.

Or maybe, just maybe, she’d finally encountered a group of incredibly decent survivors.

“I’m sorry, I never got your name,” Rick suddenly spoke, cutting off Anna’s thoughts.

“Oh,” she murmured, clearing her throat slightly. “Anna Brooks,” she spoke, shooting Rick a small smile.

“Well then, on behalf of the prick back there,” Rick sighed, jerking his head towards the bed of the truck, “thank you, Anna Brooks.”

Anna scoffed lightly and nodded once, turning on the road the sheriff had pointed out.

“How’d you know Daryl?” he inquired, his fingers tapping incessantly against his pant leg. He seemed anxious, maybe deciding small talk would take his mind off the apparent trouble at his camp. Anna pressed just a little harder on the accelerator, wanting to get them home sooner.

She paused, unsure of how to go about his question. “My, uh, my truck broke down a few days ago. He kinda appeared out of nowhere and got it running again,” she shrugged, deciding not to delve into the full story.

Rick nodded silently, his eyes scanning the road warily. “An’ what brought — turn up here — what brought ya to the city?” he questioned, directing her down another winding road.

Anna followed his directions, gnawing on her bottom lip for a moment. “Uh, the broadcasts, actually. Before they shut off, I mean. They said there was a refugee center downtown and all that,” she explained, narrowing her eyes as she maneuvered the darkened side street. “My brother was supposed to be there,” she finished quietly.

Rick was silent for a moment and Anna took that as her opportunity to flip the question.

“What about you?” she asked, her eyes flickering up to the rearview mirror to check on the others. She noticed Daryl staring off towards the passing trees, his expression troubled — but when his gaze flashed her way, a stoniness settled over his features and she quickly looked away.

Rick was quiet again. “We had an issue with a member of our group yesterday — had ta’ leave him behind, otherwise none of us would’a made it out. Went back today ta’ get him an’ he was gone,” he sighed, his words laced with guilt.

Anna knew he was talking about Merle and had a certain inkling as to why he was left behind — the man was dangerous, plain and simple. He was a reckless junkie who gave zero shits about everyone and everything.

She figured that must’ve been one of the reasons behind Daryl’s sudden shift in character — he was pissed at his group for leaving Merle behind. And then on top of that, after making the trek into the city to bring him back, had discovered that he’d apparently taken off. But Anna was sure that deep down, underneath all that animosity, Daryl was really just worried about his missing brother — and she could relate.

“You did what you had to do,” Anna murmured simply, shrugging a shoulder up.

Rick scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “Explain that ta’ Daryl Dixon back there,” he muttered heavily.

Anna opened her mouth to respond, but a strange noise suddenly sounded.

Pop.

Pop.

“Is that the engine?” Rick questioned, shifting in his seat as Anna slowed her truck, the brakes groaning in protest. A heavy silence settled over the cab, both Anna and the sheriff straining their ears through the open windows for where the noise had come from. And then suddenly, it sounded again.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

But it wasn’t coming from the truck — it wasn’t even the engine.

It was gunshots.

A stream of incessant pops began echoing throughout the night as Daryl jumped to his feet and banged his fist on top of the truck. “Hey, it’s comin’ from camp!” he hollered.

Rick let out a shaky breath, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. “Drive,” he uttered in horror, his voice trembling as Anna immediately slammed her foot onto the accelerator, the truck lurching forward.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she pushed her truck as fast as it would go, winding up a steep dirt road, covered in nothing but darkness. Rick was murmuring something under his breath — almost like a prayer of some sorts — as he reached into the bag strapped across his chest. He began pulling out several different types of guns — rifles, handguns, shotguns, pistols — making sure they were all loaded as he directed Anna down another dark path.

Anna gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling her palms begin to sweat against the leather. “C’mon, baby,” she murmured under her breath, praying her truck had enough left in it to make it up the steep hill it was climbing. The gunshots started getting louder and louder, alerting the group that they were close. It wasn’t long before a large RV suddenly came into view, a small fire dwindling in the middle of an open area.

Anna narrowed her eyes, scanning the field for movement — and that’s when she saw them.

Walkers. Waves upon waves of the dead filtering in from the trees, circling around a small group of people, only visible by gunfire.

Anna skidded her truck into the campsite, slamming onto the breaks as Rick’s door flew open, a desperate shout escaping his lungs as he ran towards the others. “Lori! Carl!” he screamed, firing at a nearby walker. Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn had already jumped out from the back and were taking down every single biter in their path.

Anna didn’t think — she just moved. She put her truck into park and leapt out of the front seat, grabbing her pistol and joining the fight. Her five remaining bullets ended up in the brains of five dead ones before she was forced to switch over to her hammer.

It seemed like for each walker she killed, two more took its place. The camp was filled with deafening gunfire and screams, but Anna tuned it all out, focusing solely on each biter that came into view. Chest heaving, she slammed her hammer against the temple of one of the dead, before quickly searching the campsite — there was a group of survivors backing up towards the RV, huddles of walkers feasting on fresh kills, and a graveyard full of dead biters.

Some of the people armed with guns had spread out along the trees, moving closer into the herd. Anna took a couple steps back, wiping away a streak of blood spatter from her face. She turned once more to look at the group huddled near the RV and suddenly spotted a boy.

He was young — probably eleven or twelve years old — with big fearful eyes, holding onto the back of a dark-haired woman’s shirt — who she assumed was his mother. But what he didn’t see was the biter who’d strayed from the herd and was now rapidly approaching him from behind…

“Hey, kid!” Anna shouted, trying to get the attention of the boy or the mother. But over the roar of gunfire, her cries fell on deaf ears. “Kid!” she screamed desperately, taking off towards the boy, just as the walker reached for him with its blood-stained fingers.

Anna threw herself at the biter, tackling it to the ground in one swift motion. All of the air from her lungs escaped in one big whoosh as she hit the dirt floor, feeling the skin on her left palm split open as she skidded against a perturbing rock. She hissed in pain as she wrestled against the walker, fumbling for the hammer she’d dropped on impact. Anna quickly flipped onto her stomach, spotting the weapon just ahead, and desperately reached for it.

But a cry escaped her lips as she felt a heaviness slam into her back, bony hands twisting into her hair and yanking her head backward. She wriggled beneath the walker’s weight, grappling to free herself from its clutches, but the biter simply pulled her head farther back. A hungry growl sounded against her ear as its hot breath spilled across her throat, teeth snapping just inches from her flesh.

This was it. This was how it ended for her. She couldn’t say she was surprised — she’d figured if she didn’t take her own life, the dead would. An odd feeling of peace spread through her as time slowed for a fraction of a second, Anna’s gaze lifting towards the starry night sky. A shaky breath escaped her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, welcoming death with warm, open arms…ready to be reunited with her family once more…

But the pain never came.

Instead, the body on top of her stilled, its full weight pressing against her. Anna’s brow furrowed as she twisted her body out from beneath the dead, grunting from the exertion until she was freed. She took a deep breath, quickly scooting backward through the dirt before she stilled, noticing something she hadn’t before.

An arrow shot clean through its temple.

Anna faltered, searching through the darkness until her eyes landed on the man she knew it belonged to — and there stood Daryl on the opposite side of the camp, crossbow in hand, gaze locked on hers, a slightly wild look in his eyes.

Then the gunfire ceased, the campsite eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from soft cries of grieving survivors who’d lost loved ones.

Anna tore her gaze away from Daryl’s, cradling the hand she’d cut open against her chest as she collapsed backward, laying flat against the soil. She exhaled a shaky breath, heart hammering against her chest, eyes wandering the glistening night sky.

And she wondered silently to herself…just what in the hell had she gotten herself into.

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A/N : Anna has officially met the group...not in the most ideal circumstances, of course. Where do you think she’ll go from here?! Will the group accept her? Will she choose to continue on to Fort Benning? We’ll find out soon!

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: If you had to go on an extremely risky supply run, which three TWD characters would you choose to take with you and why?

Feedback is INCREDIBLY important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Let’s discuss and be friends!

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[tgunn64]

Favorite Villains - Shang Tsung (Mortal Kombat)

Shang Tsung was the original boss of the very first Mortal Kombat game. Waaay back in the day when you only had seven characters to pick from (Scorpion, Sub-Zero, Johnny Cage, Liu Kang, Kano, Sonya, and Raiden), and twelve year olds were astonished and gaped alike by pixelated heart removals and electrocutions. The story was pretty consistently as it always was. The Mortal Kombat tournament will decide if Outworld has the right to attack Earthrealm or not, and the earthlings must defend their right by defeating the Outworld champions, culminating in Shang Tsung. Shang Tsung, however, is a traitor. He’s actually a human native to Earthrealm. In exchange for power from the Outworld emperor Shao Kahn, he turned his back on Earth. Shang Tsung was very much the Darth Vader to Shao Kahn’s emperor--before MK2, where we met Kahn, we thought Tsung was the head honcho. He was also the very typical Chinese old master archetype, making him an effective final boss in the martial arts death match/tower of death esque atmosphere MK had set up. Shang Tsung was a really awesome final boss. See, Shang Tsung consumes the souls of his foes, and any souls he’s taken in, he could shapeshift into. When you faced him, he’d transform into all of the other six characters you’ve slain along the way. YOU fueled his power you FOOL, look what you’ve done. After you beat him you free the souls of the fallen and earth is safe. ..or so it seems.

In addition to being an impacting and memorable boss battle, Shang Tsung was an equally perfect antithesis for the, at the time, main hero, Liu Kang. Tsung was a dishonorable oppurtunitist, who grows stronger by feeding off of the souls of others, juxtaposed by Liu Kang's genuine training and hard work, as well as Shaolin warrior virtue. Their rivalry would last generations, even long after Liu Kang's death and return as a zombie. It's become a little lost in the new timeline, where Tsung is a little less important and Kang has become more of a bad guy, but the two were the kind of rivals that chased one another to the ends of the earth. It’s the dawn of MK2 where we learn who Shang Tsung answers to. Begging for a second chance, Shao Kahn grants him this by restoring his youth, allowing him to fight more efficiently and resulting in his more common and youthful redesign. Shao Kahn began his own tournament, this time in Outworld, and he also has Shang Tsung enter. This demoted Shang Tsung from final boss to mainstream playable character. I always really love when a boss the first time around has to step down and fight with everyone else. They’re always fun to play, and speak levels to the new boss. I also love the second hand of the boss sneaking into the tournament. Shang Tsung's was able to be a little more snake like and treacherous from this role--biding his time until an oppurtunity presents itself.

While not disloyal per se, Shang Tsung was someone you knew always had his own agenda in mind. He stands by Shao Kahn, but is willing to recognize a new opportunity if one appears, and would much rather save his own skin than fight for Kahn when push comes to shove. As Kahn’s chief sorcerer, Shang Tsung is responsible for a number of eldridge experiments and abominations of combined science and magic. He’s responsible for the existence of Mileena as well as horrid creatures like Meat. One of my favorite scenes in MK9 sees Kitana discover Mileena, get pissed at Shang Tsung, threatening to “drag him to Shao Kahn by his pointed beard”, only for Shang Tsung to smugly, all along, insist it was Kahn that commissioned the clone. Tsung just has it all figured out. He doesn’t have to take big risks because he knows his own limits. Shang Tsung's avarice and "look out for number one" personality is his bread and butter. You get the idea of someone that has seen and fought a lot and is only showing you a small hint of what he's capable of. He has fatalities where he transforms in Kintaro and, in a later case, a macabre clown in order to imitate the Joker's fatality in MKvDCU, which shows how little of his own repertoire he actually uses. The key to defeating your enemy is to know them, but you can't really know your enemy if they're constantly changing into other enemies--and it's this that kept Liu Kang one his toes for so long.

He also always had an interesting complex with Quan Chi, Kahn’s other arch sorcerer. The two agreed on very little, and recognized their respective motives, sort of a Littlefinger/Varys kind of complex. When the Outworld emperor saw its worst of times, Shang Tsung and Quan Chi, in the original timeline, formed the infamous Deadly Alliance, shaking hands and with their combined efforts, killed both Shao Kahn and Liu Kang. Of course neither were on the same page 100% and ready to betray one another, but they made for really interesting main villains of their own game together. Also of note is what may be my favorite 'odd couple' in MK, Shang Tsung and Kano. They couldn't be more different, but I always thought they understood each other from sort of an honor-among-oppurtunitists point of view. Shang Tsung even kept Kano in close graces with him after Kano saved him from an assassination attempt by Sheeva. Kano doesn't need a ton of power as long as he has money, and Tsung is happy to supply that. As of right this second in the alternate universe, Shang Tsung is dead, his soul taken by Shao Kahn to revive Sindel. BUT, there are many, many clues to Tsung making his comeback very soon in more than one of the in game endings. With Quan Chi dead, it’ll be interesting to see how he fares without Shao Kahn or his fellow warlock for the first time in a long time. He's just a very cool villain, and you could never quite track who he was gonna team up with and who he was gonna betray, and in an all new world I'm VERY hype for his return.

[woildismyerster]

I need tooth-rottingly sweet, so-sweet-I’ll-vomit Specs fluff asap (or when you can find time, no rush)

I hope this does it for you, homie.

There were no adult Newsies.  People were more likely to buy from a kid, so the people parenting the younger Newsies were only in their mid to late teens themselves.

Jack was the head honcho, the man to follow.

Mush and Finch were the physical guys.  Some days that meant that they took an offensive stance, but sometimes that meant that the kids had somebody to wrestle with before bed.

Your job was, whether you wanted to or not, be soft.  You cleaned scrapes and split up arguments.  

Specs was the confidant, the safe, the counselor.  He knew secrets before anybody else, and it was for good reason.  He never wanted to tell anybody, and his ability to be objective was unparalleled.

He knew about Jack’s thing for Katherine long before anybody else.

He was the person you went to, years prior, when you were scared to walk to your selling spot because of shifty eyed men who lurked around corners in the quiet hours.  He was also the person who walked you to the dock then, and the person who shielded you from the men, just as you had hoped he would be.

He was the first person Davey told when the Jacobs boys were able to go back to school.

He held you after the strike, listening to you talk about everything and nothing until your breathing slowed to match his.  

You went to Specs a lot, more than the other Newsies, maybe, but he didn’t mind.  He seeked you out more often than not, and it flooded his chest and roared in his ears when you did the same.

Really, Specs liked to listen.  He liked to know what was happening around him, even if it wouldn’t be affecting him directly.  He hadn’t been on edge at all when Albert pulled him aside one day - maybe it was about whatever Albert, Race, and JoJo had been whispering about the other night.

“You and Y/N are pretty close, right?”

Specs blinked, surprised.  Yes, of course you were close.  All Newsies were close.  None of you had too many other people to be close to.  “Sure.”

Albert glanced over his shoulder, where Race and JoJo were watching expectantly.  “Good - yeah, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”  His eyes were bright, and his ears were a little pink.  

“Okay, what?”

“I kind of have a thing for Y/N,” he said sheepishly.  “It’s been driving me crazy - I had to get it off my chest.”

Specs’ eyebrows rose, but that was the sign he heard.  He wouldn’t - couldn’t - say anything.  You and Albert?  Really?  Maybe that wasn’t too much of a surprise; you were pretty spectacular, and Albert wasn’t an idiot.

Specs swallowed thickly, noting the way Albert kept looking back at the other two.  “What are they doing here?”

“They thought I was being weird,” Albert said.  “I didn’t want to talk to them about it - you know how chatty Race can be - so they thought I should talk to you.”

“Oh,” Specs said.  He took off his glasses to polish the spotless glass.  “Yeah, that makes sense.  Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” Albert said quickly.  “I definitely do.  See you ‘round.”

Specs should have tried to talk more to Albert about it - figuring out how to deal with having a crush on a friend could be a pretty stressful experience.  He should have offered to talk to you for Albert.  He should have helped the boy come up with a plan.  

Specs did not try to do any of those things, since the very idea of it made him feel sick to his stomach.

You grinned at Specs, hair plastered to your face from the onslaught of rain.  You had shoved all of your papers under your shirt, but he wasn’t sure how well it protected them.  “Think we should call it quits?  I ain’t sure there’ll be that many customers in this.”

He shrugged.  “Whatever you want.  Feeling lucky?”

He wasn’t feeling lucky.  How could Albert have a crush on you?  Of all of the teenagers in all the world, Albert just had to choose the person that Specs valued the most.

“Not particularly,” you said, squinting up at the sky.  “Wanna go to Jacobi’s?”

“Why go there when there’s plenty of water out here?”  Specs smiled when you laughed.

Of course Albert had a crush on you.  Who wouldn’t?  If Specs was a really good friend, he would help Albert out.

“You’s right,” you said.  “We can just stay out here, catching the rain in our mouths.  It’ll act as a shower, too.  Two for one.”

“Brilliant.  You planning to strip first, or should I?”

You laughed again, and Specs thought that he was a bad friend, twice over.

First, he was filled with an unhealthy dose of resentment toward a friend who had trusted him.

Second, he thought that he might be bitter because he liked you too, and he would rather Albert be unhappy than himself.

Specs could hardly breathe, and he couldn’t think of a way to bring the air back into the room.

You were standing across the way, and Albert had an arm slung over your shoulders.  You were laughing at something he was saying, and Albert hadn’t looked away from your face the entire time he talked.

Was that how Specs looked at you?

Albert ducked down to whisper something in your ear, and your eyes gleamed when you ducked out of the way.

Did you look at Specs like that?

You caught Specs’ eye, and waved him over.  He shook his head, and though your grin faltered, you turned back to Albert.  If you knew how Albert felt, would you be letting him touch you like that?

Would you be letting him touch you more?

Albert grinned at Specs from across the way, and Specs grimaced back.  He had never wanted to spill somebody’s secret so badly.

“Plans for after we age out,” you whispered.  “Go.”

Specs bit the inside of his cheek.  Soon enough, the two of you would have to start looking for other work.  In all likelihood, you would both end up in factories.  In times like this, when he was looking at your bunk from his, anything was possible.

Quietly, so none of the boys could get irritated, Specs dreamed a life.  “I’ll go to New Orleans and learn voodoo.  I’ll make a living selling charms and curses to anybody who can afford it.”

He could see a flash of your teeth in the moonlight.  “I like it.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll go into moving pictures,” you said.  “Everybody in America will know my name.”

Specs wrinkled his nose.  “Why would you want that?”

“Money.  Respect.”  You shifted, pulling your blanket up to your chin.  “Why not?”

“I don’t want to be known by everybody,” he said.  “Just a few people.”

“You’s gonna have an easy time being happy, then,” you told him.

He shrugged, taking off his glasses.  He immediately lost you in the dark blur.  “I’ll use my voodoo to make you happy, too.”

“You don’t have to.  You make me happy enough.”  The last words were muffled by a yawn, and followed by a sleepy good night.

Specs thought that his heart might have broken.  He thought that he might be in love with you.  He thought that maybe you were right, and that what would make him happy may be simpler than what would make you happy.  Maybe you deserved something better, and he was being selfish by keeping you to himself.

“Albert, I owe you an apology.”

Albert’s eyebrows rose, and his lips curved into a surprised smile.  “For what?”

“I like Y/N,” Specs said.  “I like Y/N, and I know that you do too.  I won’t act on it, but I’s sure that I’ve been getting in the way of you -”

Albert gave a bark of laughter.  “I don’t like Y/N.  Like that, anyway.”

“But you said -”

“Race, JoJo, and I have been talking,” Albert said.  He bore a smug grin.  “We’s been watching you and Y/N for ages, and it was sickening, man.  Absolutely nauseating, and you had no idea.  We weren’t even sure you knew how perfect for each other you are.  We thought that if you thought I would make a move, you’d realize you don’t want me to.”

Specs gaped at him.  “You lied.”

“For what it’s worth,” Albert offered, “I’s sure Y/N likes you back.”

“How does that help?”

“You can have this,” Albert said with a shrug.  “We don’t have much, and we might not ever have much, but you and Y/N have always had each other.  Why not make the most of that?”

That was, surprisingly, a good point.  Specs had pulled Albert aside ready to give you up.  He hadn’t imagined having the opportunity to walk out of the conversation with more.

So long as you felt the same way, that is.

Specs held a paper over your head, blocking the sun from your eyes.  It was too hot today, and he found himself missing the rain.  “What’ll you do when we age out?”

You looked up at him, surprised, but pursed your lips in thought.  “Buy a ranch in the south.  Get some horses, some sheep, the works.  What’ll you do?”

“Follow you there,” Specs said.

You half smiled.  “Really?  A world of possibility, and you just want to follow me to New Mexico, or wherever?”

“Sure.”  Specs gave you a full grin, and yours grew in response.  “That’s the dream, isn’t it?  You’s the only person that needs to know me.  If I’ve got you, there’s nothing else to want.”

“Really?”  You gave a heavy swallow, hands worrying at the corner of one of your papes.  “That’s really what you want once we’ve grown up?”

“Is there something else I should want?”  The paper in Specs’ hand shook a little, and the sun flickered on and off your face.  

“I’s giving you a chance to back out,” you admitted.  “To make a joke out of it.”

“I’ve never been so serious in my entire life.”

You grinned.  Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you gave him a brief kiss.  Surprised, Specs didn’t even bother lowering the paper roof he had created for you.  

“What was that for?”

“Sealing the deal,” you said.  “You’s stuck with me, now.  Whatever I do, you’ll be there.”

He scoffed.  “As if that wasn’t already the plan.”

“It wasn’t something you ever said out loud,” you protested.  

He leaned down and kissed you, then.  “Did I have to?”

“No,” you said, and Specs understand the appeal of telling somebody a secret.  If people felt half as good telling people secrets as he did after telling you how he felt, he couldn’t imagine ever stopping.

[dontcallmecarrie]

Something that'd be interesting to see is your take on Fury becoming more proactive in Tony's childhood. Him seeing Howard's lack of parenting/interaction and Obadiah creeping in on Tony and deciding that it would be better if he got involved with Tony instead.

I assume you’re talking about Watch The Power Fold, feat. Obadiah’s being Palpatine 2.0 and influencing Tony? The one that wasn’t meant to be a happy AU, except my brain can’t do angst and cue fixit that’ll give everyone headaches down the road? Under the cut, because it went from ‘fixit’ to ‘fixit that grew legs and plot and fuck this is another fic now isn’t it’ pretty damn fast.

Nick Fury hadn’t intended to, is the thing. Howard had been very, very firm about keeping his son out of SHIELD, and Fury hadn’t disagreed, given the nature of what they got up to sometimes. Not when the kid had grown on him [even if he wouldn’t admit it under pain of death]. 

He’d seen Tony grow up, had seen him around when he was in the mansion working with Howard, had heard Howard’s talking warmly of his son. Nick Fury’d seen Tony grow up more than his father did, actually, what with working security for the family of the cofounder of SHIELD while Howard was away on business, or searching for Captain America. 

So, yes, the kid’d grown on him, so what? Only thing is, the more time goes on, the busier things get, and…the more some things don’t sit right with Fury. Specifically, while Howard had done his best to keep his family and SHIELD separate, he had a bad habit of taking his work home when it came to Stark Industries, and that’s where things get…dicey.  

Fury can’t explain just why Obadiah Stane rubs him wrong, just that he does. It makes sense that the man’s trying to ingratiate himself to Howard’s family, what with working with them and all, and his background checks out, but. Something doesn’t sit right with Fury, plain and simple. The way Obadiah’s set himself up as a fun uncle figure isn’t actually suspicious, after all: the one time he’d brought it up, both Peggy and Howard had joked about his being too paranoid. 

In one life, he’d avoid approaching Tony until decades later. Here, however…

He’d been suspicious, before the accident. Afterwards, however? The situation’s got him gritting his teeth but trying to still respect Howard’s wishes, right up until the only other adult figure in the kid’s life that isn’t Obadiah has a heart attack, not six months after the accident. 

By now, Fury’s the Director of SHIELD, he’s got better things to do than worry about how Tony was dealing with things. [Right?]

…then he sees the way Obadiah’s got some very shady friends who are this close to going on a watch list, and the way he’s acting around Tony, and goes, “fuck it, sorry Howard but your kid’s better off as my apprentice than that fucker’s pawn”.

Here, Fury is really, really blunt in his interference with Obadiah’s machinations. Instead of Tony leaning on Obie [and thus playing right into his hands], here, Fury basically barges in and drags him off.

Well, no; more like bribes him off, because where Obie would’ve gone “do you know what your father used to say?”, Fury’s just there and going “hey kid we’ve got some of your dad’s notes from his other job, you interested?” which, combined with Tony having seen him around the mansion as a kid, means Tony decides to check it out. 

That the one-eyed guy’s got some stories to tell about his dad really, really helps, too. As does the fact that his dad apparently helped found a vague yet menacing government agency, and even if it hurts that he never knew, Tony still wants to learn more, and Fury is more than willing to deliver.  Add to that a bunch of cool-looking projects, and adults who treat him as a slightly short coworker, and Tony’s basically hooked; even if Obie wanted him to ditch, he wouldn’t.

Sure, it eats up a huge chunk of time, and Tony’s slightly sorry that he can’t spend as much time with Obie anymore, but…he’s learning things, so there’s that? Between wrapping up his doctorates, gearing up to become the CEO of his dad’s company, and this, he’s booked, but it’s worth it. He’s learning about international politics from the inside, seeing actual spies doing their thing and getting ideas for optimizing weapon designs, and the list just goes on because Tony winds up as Fury’s apprentice. [Somehow.]

From the head honcho himself, Tony’s learning to be The Spy, learns about watching his back to keep it from being stabbed, about how good people are few and far between, about the value of blackmail and how to keep an ear on the ground. Life lessons that aren’t what some would like to impart, but invaluable in survival when swimming with sharks. 

Much like Howard, dealing with the intelligence community takes a toll on Tony. Unlike Howard, however, Tony got some coping mechanisms drilled into his head early on in the game, because Fury’d already seen one Stark become an alcoholic, no need to add to that number. Also, Tony’s not as obsessed with searching for Captain America, there’s that, too, and that JARVIS can watch his back is invaluable to his peace of mind. 

He’s also taken to using a pseudonym in SHIELD, just in case. Well, that, and also because the comparisons to Howard are really, really getting on his nerves [plus the rumors of nepotism can fuck right off]. As far as aliases go, Antonio Carbonell may sound pretty damn obvious, but between contact lenses and switching up accents, nobody not in the know’s caught on so far.

All in all, Tony’s basically following in his father’s footsteps, set to inherit both Stark Industries and a very high post in SHIELD if he keeps it up. He’s not under Obie’s thumb, and in fact isn’t actually as trusting as he might have been otherwise, so the man can’t do as much double-dealing as he might have otherwise. Sure, Tony’s pretty damn busy, and that people on occasion tend to compare him to Howard even more than they might have otherwise tends to get on his nerves, but otherwise? Tony’s not complaining. 

On the other hand, Nick Fury got quite a bit of criticism for doing what he did, roping Tony into SHIELD and making him his apprentice. Some of the higher-ups also knew about Howard’s not wanting to involve his family, and that Fury chose Tony, aka the media’s favorite person, to be a possible future head of SHIELD was not exactly a popular choice. Some thought he was taking advantage of the situation, forcing a grieving orphan and molding him to basically fill his father’s shoes, and…well, they’re not wrong per se. Not like they could do anything about it, though; Fury’s too high up the chain, after all. 

…the critics shut up after the Merchant of Death first made his appearance. 

And here’s where the headache component starts to kick in, because Fury took Tony in under his wing, after he lost not just his parents but Jarvis as well. Here, Tony’s spent over a year learning the ropes from the best. Here, the Merchant of Death is honest-to-goodness pretty damn terrifying, actually. 

Moments like that, it’s pretty damn easy to tell why Nick Fury chose him as his apprentice, early rumors of nepotism be damned.

Time goes by, Tony gets older, and things keep escalating as his clearance goes up. He’s pretty damn busy nowadays, but sometimes there’s projects that catch his eye that get mentioned in his dad’s notes, and that’s the story of how he invents a new element in a SHIELD bunker while running on four hours of sleep and seventeen cups of coffee. 

Time passes, and Fury’s only slightly regretful of the way things’ve panned out: Tony’s quite a bit more jaded than in canon, having Seen Some Shit while working in SHIELD, but…still better than being under Obadiah’s thumb, right? Sure, he got sucked into SHIELD exactly the way Howard had been trying to avoid, but…fuck he’s regretting it. 

Part of said regret comes from the headache he gets from…well. See, in one life Tony had Uncle Obie to lean on. Here, however, Fury kinda took his place, only he’s genuinely invested in Tony’s life. What that means is, Nick Fury maaybe might have kind of adopted Tony, in a sense. Just a little, though, more like Tony’s his favorite the same way Coulson has his with Barton and Romanov.  [yeah, right]

Speaking of which: man does that matchup give everyone migraines. Clint and Tony met pretty early on, and got into a snark-off after Clint made a crack about Tony’s age and Tony made a crack about Clint’s arrows and somehow that ended up with them commandeering a gun range, several prototypes, and geeking out over blast radii. By the time Natasha enters the picture, just the mention of Barton and Stark has the quartermaster groaning. With Natasha, however, Tony reveals just how unnervingly good he is at masks, weirding out everyone else in the room and their team-up quickly becomes a favorite for deep cover missions. 

…not that it happens all that often, however. After all, Tony’s got a company to run, and in SHIELD he’s been on the administrative track since Day One, rather than on the field. It still happens with enough regularity to give everyone else headaches, though. 

By the time we’ve reached Afghanistan, Tony’s been the Merchant of Death for years, and is also secretly the Assistant Deputy Director of SHIELD, which is pretty high up the chain. Main reason he’s not even higher is because of the time commitment; he’s pretty damn busy as is, and he refuses to be Howard. 2.0 with a shitty work-life balance. He’s sick of being compared to the man, and that Obie doesn’t approve of his work outside SI means he’s acutely aware of the parallels.

Afghanistan still happens. Only here, it’s because he’s heard rumors of his company double-dealing, and Tony Stark’s weapons demo had been planned as a front for Antonio Carbonell to look into things.

…suffice it is to say, his kidnapping throws a huge wrench into the works.

Especially because Tony’s not a civilian; he’s Seen Some Shit in SHIELD, after all. He’s had RTI training, has run support on ops that’ve gone to shit, so he’s prepared. Mostly. [Waterboarding still sucks, though, and the arc reactor’s installation was…not fun.] 

Still, could’ve been worse. At least he’s still got both eyes intact. Plus he managed to escape, and even managed to drag Yinsen out too. [He’d do well in SHIELD.]

Even better, however, is the intel he got from the shitshow, and that’s also the story of how Obadiah Stane disappears mysteriously less than a month later. Or, rather, no; died in a plane crash, right. Good riddance, even if Tony still felt a pang of…something, when he’d learned about the betrayal. 

[…Fury may or may not have tapped Coulson to handle it personally.]

Iron Man still exists. Only here, Tony sticks to the cards, because he is intimately aware of the value of secrecy, what with having worked with a shadowy government agency for half his life now, and he learned from the best.  Sometimes it’s JARVIS that’s piloting the suit, because Tony’s busy enough as is between his work at  Stark Industries, and career at SHIELD.

Time goes on, and when the palladium thing comes up, Tony bolts to his new  element as an option, and is very relieved when it works. However, he still steps down as CEO of SI, because between Stark Industries, SHIELD, and Iron Man, he’s clocking an average of four hours of sleep and, again, he’s not Howard, he wants a sane work-life balance.

Time goes on, and canon gets summarily derailed. Dealing with Vanko was a headache, though on the plus side his long, long experience with bureaucracy and government organizations means Tony’s keeping Iron Man out of military hands was a snap. Plus the face Natasha made, when she saw him as Tony and not Antonio, was worth it, even if it also meant she wouldn’t go easy on him the next time they sparred…oh, yeah, and he was also tapped to be a consultant for the Avengers Initiative, but what were the odds of that happening?  

Steve’s reaction to looking into Howard’s file, and then Tony’s, was…interesting.

Once he starts to get a read on the situation, he makes assumptions. Assumptions that Tony does not appreciate at all, because excuse you, Rogers, just because he copied some of his old man’s career moves doesn’t mean he’s Howard 2.0, fuck you very much. 

Suffice it is to say, they don’t exactly get along very well at first. 

Tony hates being compared to Howard, especially since he’d taken great pains to make his career in SHIELD his own. Literally the only reason Steve knows about the Tony Stark = Antonio Carbonell thing is because of his being an Avenger, plus good luck hiding the familiarity he has with Clint and Natasha. But Tony manages to be professional; kinda hard not to, after the long, long list of assholes he’s had to work with over the years. If he could deal with Ward’s being a self-entitled prick, no way is he going to let some supersoldier cramp his style, nope.

Bruce’s biggest concern in all this is the discovery that he got in when he was 17, but Tony hand-waved it with a “working with Fury’s more fun than the guy who almost got me killed” that did not, in fact, comfort anyone else in the room. [Oops.] 

…okay, I can see this AU going one of two ways: 

Either Tony finds out about HYDRA a lot earlier [he doesn’t trust many people, has a powerful AI watching his back, and access to SHIELD’s databases. You do the math], thus derailing the events of The Winter Soldier. It’s a mess, mind, but it gets taken care of early on in canon.

or,

Tony’s basically front and center for the clusterfuck that happens when the Winter Soldier shows up. [exploring this one because cue angst]

Because this was Fury we’re talking about. Fury, who stepped in and basically adopted him after he’d lost his parents, lost Jarvis, was one of the few people in his life who hadn’t betrayed him—Fury, who’s been reported dead, killed by the Winter Solider. 

Suffice it is to say, Tony is not about to take that lying down.

When Steve’s just reeling from the ‘trust no one’ thing, Tony barges in, nodding tersely to Natasha and a hair away from going Merchant of Death on everyone. [They couldn’t have gotten rid of him if they’d tried.] The group ends up having an AI looking out for them, and the more time goes on the more personal it gets, because of obvious reasons. Tony ends up kind of copying T’Challa re: ‘hunting down the Winter Soldier because of a dead father figure’, and Tony only gets scarier as shit goes down. 

As in: Steve’d been taken aback, when he’d first learned of how shady SHIELD really was. The way Tony’d iced over, was playing with fire with a familiar ease and barking orders over encrypted comms, didn’t exactly help, either. Even if it was pretty damn useful at times, because turns out Antonio Carbonell’s position in the SHIELD chain of command means he’s hearing some really interesting things, and that he’s also the CEO of Stark Industries means it takes all of one (1) phone call to get Sam’s wings without ruffling any feathers. 

All in all, a good ally. Even if the parallels are basically smacking everyone in the face at this point, because Tony may have hated being compared to his father but there was no denying that there was a Stark involved in SHIELD for the entirety of its existence. That he’d been adopted mentored by Fury’s only the icing on the cake, really. 

So when the HYDRA reveal happens, well…

Tony goes scarily silent, after hearing Zola. Then, he wordlessly unloads a full three clips into the servers, and Steve and Natasha get a front row seat to a pissed-off Iron Man doing what he does best. There’s probably some poetic irony in Tony helping burn what his father created, but nobody involved really cares for it. 

With Tony on hand, stopping Project Insight’s a hell of a lot easier. Also, the collateral damage is reduced. If that means JARVIS helped filter out the innocents from being burned, or if the Iron Legion’s picking up everyone who’s not HYDRA, is up to you; no matter what, though, it is a mess and a nightmare in regards to paperwork. Silver lining to this mess, though: Tony’s learning about how his parents really died, and subsequent lashing out, means he’s mostly made his peace with the Winter Soldier. 

…mostly. It’ll take some time, anyway, but at least Tony’s not liable to blast him next time he sees him, which, combined with how he’s asked JARVIS to help Steve look for the guy, means it’s as good as it’s going to get for now, probably. [It helps that Fury survived.]

…kinda ran out of steam there. Oh, before I forget:

The events of IM3 either don’t happen, or go down differently, because as far as targets go, good fucking luck getting to him: his involvement in SHIELD means he’s paranoid af, just like Fury [learned from the best, after all].

JARVIS here’s even more powerful, what with Tony trusting him to watch his back when swimming with sharks, and is thus also a tad more Skynet than most’d be comfortable with. So’s the Iron Legion.

If, by some stroke of sheer dumb luck Kilian still manages to get to Tony, well…RIP, dude, for pissing off the Merchant of Death [and Fury’s kid, not that either Fury or Tony’ll admit it]

Also, Tony’s PTSD isn’t as big a thing here, what with his not being a civilian and Fury having made sure he’d learned healthy coping mechanisms early on.  

If it ever comes up, he’d be bffs with Sharon Carter, what with the ‘my parental figure helped found SHIELD and didn’t want me involved’ thing, as well as the ‘changed my name so my achievements are of my own merit’ thing. 

Steve’d look at the two, and facepalm forever.

Peggy Carter was actually one of the ones who disapproved of Fury’s bringing Tony into SHIELD; she was in the ‘you’re taking advantage of a grieving orphan to fill his father’s shoes, wtf is wrong with you’ camp. She wasn’t vocal about it, and never said anything to Tony, but she side-eyed Fury right up to her retirement. She did call to apologize after the Obadiah reveal, though, and Fury managed to have his “I fucking told you so” moment. [Ha. Who’s paranoid now?]

People that know about Tony Stark = Antonio Carbonell are few and far between; I’m talking Nick Fury, probably Phil Coulson because he was there in the early days when Tony snapped after one too many mentions of Howard Stark, and promptly hacked into the systems to change his name because is That Petty. For the most part, though, it’s on a need-to-know basis, and most people really don’t. [Not sure if HYDRA knew;  if they did, it took them a while to figure it out.]. 

No, Tony’s not Fury’s kid in all but name, what’re you talking about? So what if Tony takes after him sometimes, he’s his mentor for crying out loud! Of fucking course he’s going to pick up some things!

No, Fury didn’t adopt Howard’s kid, what the fuck kind of bullshit question is that? No, it’s not like the little shit grew on him, nope, it’s not like he’s fond of that pain in the ass or anything. That he was even pissier than usual when he went MIA’s a complete and utter coincidence, really.

...aka really pushing the family dynamic here.

uh-oh the more I think of it the more things it’d derail brain no

[pure-egotism]

I made a different post of this a while ago as a reblog, but I wanted to make it as a separate post...so here.

I remember every detail from the first time I did it. It had been an accident of course, but I had gone through the motions so many times now that it didn’t seem all that important how or even why it had started.  Time travel had only recently become a possibility, and so some were assigned the task of observing historical events. To record every detail available to them without messing up the timeline, and reporting back to have their findings stored for posterity. Others had been given the task of actually changing certain aspects of historical events.  The biggest one to date involved some event with a library, but I think it was still burned anyway, so the head honchos are still trying to figure that one out.  I had been int he former group of employees when I first started out.  That was, until I had accidentally been caught in the crossfires of the American Revolution.

I had hidden behind an overturned supply wagon, trying to catch my breath when I caught sight of a young boy.  He couldn’t have been older than fourteen, and it looked like he still had some remnants of his baby fat on his face.  He looked up at me, blue eyes starting to glaze over.  He lifted his arm towards me, but it quickly fell back down to the ground with a soft thud.  He tried to speak, but it came out as a harsh whisper, and a look of pure agony cracked across his face.  His other arm grabbing his torso, and for the first time I noticed the brilliant scarlet coating his makeshift rebel uniform.  He looked up at me, trying to speak again, but a sharp cry was all that came out as his body contorted in pain with the effort.

“Hey, now.  Don’t speak. Everything is going to be alright now,” I cooed, crawling over to him quickly.  I smoothed the hair out of his face, taking his hand in mine.  Glancing down, I could see the dark stain growing bigger on his clothing.

“W-who are you?” he gasped, eyes raking over me.  I wasn’t wearing any period clothing, so I could only imagine the sight I must have been to him.

“I’m from a time in the distant future.  I’m here to observe,” I explained gently.

“I don’t want to die,” he cried, tears beginning to form.  I could feel my heart wrench in my chest, and I carefully maneuvered him so that his head rested in my lap.

“I know, I know,” I soothed, stroking his hair.  The small action seemed to calm him down, and he relaxed a little.

“If you are from the future,” he began, “then can you tell me if any of this is worth it? Does my death mean anything in the end?”

I paused, contemplating his words.  He seemed to sense my apprehension because he spoke again. “Please.  Tell me.  I’m dying anyway.  Please tell me that it’s not in vain.”

I took another moment to choose my words carefully, knowing I was breaking the biggest rule in the book.

“Because of your sacrifice,” I started, “something absolutely incredible happens.  In two years time, the world turns upside down.  The colonists win, and a new nation is born.  A nation that will go through many trials and that won’t always come out on the right side of them.  This nation will be known as the land of the free and the home of the brave.  We become a great nation, one that rivals every other.  We make mistakes, but this land and its people grow and become strong because of it.”

He stared at me in awe, his skin a sickly white at this point.

“We win?” he asked quietly.  I nodded.

“We win,” I smiled.

“We win,” he breathed, a small smile creeping onto his face, and then, with a shuddering breath, he stopped moving. The world seemed to stop moving after that.  I had never seen someone die before, and the sight left me in shock.  I was put on leave with mandatory sessions with the department psychologist after that.

“How are you feeling after the entire experience, agent?” asked the doctor.

“I feel…sad. Like I should have done more,” I admitted quietly, staring down at my hands.  The doctor nodded, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“That’s understandable.  You weren’t supposed to witness any deaths on your assignment,” he noted, looking up from the file he had in his lap.  I glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, not personally anyway,” he chuckled with a wry smile. “You were never supposed to be that close.  I’ve heard they’ve fixed the coordinate machine though.”

“That’s great,” I hummed unenthusiastically. The doctor stared at me for a moment before leaning closer.

“There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?” he asked.

“It was awful not being able to help that kid.  But, in those last few moments it felt…almost good to know I had comforted him in some way before he…” I stopped, not able to bring myself to say the word.  The doctor nodded knowingly.  There was another stretch of silence between the two of us before he spoke again.

“Maybe there’s something you can do.”

My director stared at me for a moment before letting out a long breath.

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” she asked, worry evident on her face. I gave her a hard nod, my mind made up.

“It’s something I feel needs to be done, I said simply.

“Alright then,” she began, reaching down to grab a file.  “This is your new assignment.”

From that moment on, I went on from being a simple observer to being something so much more than that.  I had made it my life’s work to travel across space and time to bring comfort to those on their deathbeds.  I had visited everyone from simple Viking farmers to Napoleon Bonaparte himself.  All to tell them how they changed the world into what we know it as today.

“I’m surprised at your work so far, “ my director said.

“Is that good or bad surprise?” I asked with a smile.  She returned it, and leaned back in her chair.

“Definitely good. Because of your work, we were able to put personalities to faces and people. It’s one thing to observe, but a whole different ball park to understand.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Director, but I have a feeling you called me in here to do something else.”

“You’re right,” she said, handing me a thin file.  Curious, I took it from her, flipping it open.

“What,” I began in confusion, “what is this?”

“It’s your next assignment, of course.”

“I don’t understand,” I said with a shake of my head.  Closing the file, I attempted to hand it back to her, but she shook her head.

“This one is all yours,” she said.

“But…why?  How can I possibly help?  Can the Allspeak even translate for us?”

“Believe it or not,” she began, “a lot fo observers requested this time period specifically.  We’ve gained a lot of knowledge form the amount of people who volunteered to go.”

“Then why not have one of them go?” I grumbled.

“I think this will be good for you, and besides. You’re one of our best.”

And that’s how I ended up in a dark cave sometime in the Paleolithic era.  The cave was empty, but not deserted.  Several small fires were scattered about with stone tools and bits of food left around them.  Not too far back, I heard a hacking cough echo to the front where I stood.  Quietly and as quickly as possible, I made my way to where the man laid on his makeshift bed of pelts.  Sweat drenched his forehead, and his breath came out in wheezes.  He was dying.

At the sound of my footsteps, he opened his eyes, and they widened in shock at the sight of me.  I put my hands up to show him I was unarmed, and he watched me wearily.

“It’s alright.  I’m not here to hurt you,” I murmured, slowly continuing my way towards him.  He continued to watch me, not moving.  Finally, I reached him, and I slowly knelt down to sit beside him.  We stared at each other for a long moment, both of us taking each other in.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m no one important.  Just an observer,” I replied with a small smile.

“You not from here,” he noted, giving me another once over.  I chuckled, my smile growing with the action.

“That’s right.  I’m from a far away place.  A far away time.”

“Time?” he questioned, looking into my eyes.  It shocked me to see someone completely human in them.  For so long, we had been taught about the people of this time period.  How they lived.  How they survived.  How they created masterpieces on the walls of the caves that still survive to this day.  They seemed something other than human.  But now, sitting there and staring into his eyes, it was like staring into the eyes of an old friend.  Someone who wasn’t as otherworldly as first expected.  Someone living from day to day.  Just living.

“I’m from the future,” I told him.  He furrowed his brow at me.

“What is…future?” he asked.  Maybe they didn’t understand the concept of time beyond a certain point, or maybe they just didn’t have a word for future yet.  I thought for a moment as to how to explain such a simple word to him.

“I’m from a place that’s farther than tomorrow,” I said finally.  he seemed to understand that, and he nodded.

“What you doing here?” he asked before letting out another wheezing cough.  I placed a hand on his chest, trying to give him some comfort.

“I’m here to see you.”

“Why?”

I paused, unsure of how to answer.  The people of the Paleolithic era had always fascinated everyone throughout the ages.  More specifically, their art had captured the imagination of everyone who had ever seen it.

“I want to know you,” I said finally.  A different kind of confusion adorned his face now.

“I not family. I not important to you.”

“But you are,” I smiled, taking his hand in mine.

“How?” he wheezed, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment before looking at me again.  I moved so that I was lying down next to him, and I pointed at the walls surrounding us.  On every surface, a painting rested, holding a story that ran from wall to wall.

“See these?” I asked him, earning a nod.  “These paintings will last longer than you and I will ever be able to understand.  A long time from now, people like me will come here; long after everyone living here is gone.  They’re going to come here, and they’re going to do everything they can to understand you and why you left these pictures here.  People like me will cry at the sheer beauty of these pictures, and in doing so, will cry at the loss of you, at the loss of everything you represent.  Their souls will mourn you and everything you’ve given us.”

“Why they want to understand?”

“Because,” I whispered, “every single person that ever was or ever will be has come from you.  By understanding you, it gives us hope that we can understand ourselves.  That we can understand a time when we worked together to survive everything the world threw at us.  We want to understand the time before we starting tearing our world apart because we could.”

“And I give?” he asked, eyes turning to search mine, seemingly for answers to questions he didn’t even know how to ask.  I nodded, feeling my heart break once again for someone who was already long dead.

“You give us the ability to understand the world around us and how we fit in a little better.  You make us see ourselves for what we are.”

“What that?” he asked quietly, letting out a weak cough.

“Creatures that were able to overcome many trials and rise up to become something greater than what nature may have intended us to be.”

“That…good?” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Yes,” I said, “that’s very good.”

“I no want,” he coughed, his entire body jerking violently this time. “I no want to be alone.  Family looking for food.  No back for long time.”

“It’s okay,” I soothed.  “I won’t leave your side.”

And I didn’t.  For a long while, we laid there, staring at the walls.  The fires around the cave danced, casting shadows that made those breathtaking pictures seem to move with them.  We watched as the people hunted for the deer that seemed larger than life.  We watched as the herds of bison raced against each other, forming waves of dark bodies against a sea of rigid stone.  I didn’t realize at first when his hand fell limp in mine.  When I did, I looked over to find he had completely stilled, departed to dance and hunt with his ancestors, and to be immortalized on the stone walls protecting us.  Carefully, I arranged his hands so that they rested on his body, and I made my way towards the opening of the cave, sparing one last look at my new friend.

I didn’t go on any assignments after that.  It seemed almost wrong to even entertain the idea of it.  I retired myself to desk duty, handing out assignments when they came in , and making sure each person was assigned the cases they could handle.  I still think about that man in the cave, and tell his story whenever I’m called to guest lectures.

“What inspired you to start this branch of the agency?” asked one student during a lecture at Harvard.  I thought for a moment, not quite knowing the answer.

“I wanted to start it,” I began, “because I hoped that people in the future would look back on this and be inspired to continue to keep learning about themselves.”

“Where do you see our future being?” asked another student.

Smiling, I replied, “In a place farther than tomorrow.”