#Cap was burned by a birdie once...

[lokibrainrot]

HEY this is writing for Cap that contains a litttllllee bit of lethal company v50 spoilers! Just be aware before you read!

A bright bright summer day. The air was cool but the sun warmed its skin. It could hear its sisters running about, shouting about something or other. Everest and Jolene were 12 and 8 respectively, although Jolene was turning 9 today.

Its mother sat across from it, watching the two play in the freshly cut grass. It looked out towards them, blinded by the sun at first, moving its hand to block the ray. It observed, smiling lightly. It laughed, Everest's pink dress had gotten grass stained already even though she had said she wouldn't stain it today.

Jolene pointed towards it and their mother, stumbling backwards before coming to a stop. She yelled out to it "Come play!" and it stood, smiling brightly. Its sisters ran over, grabbing it by the arms and running it into the field. A game of tag, it thought. But something was wrong now, its sisters had stopped and were looking up at the sky. It looked at both of them before looking up as well.

Something blotted out the sun. Many somethings. Things that flew in the formation of geese but were way too big to be geese themselves.

"What is that?" Its mother asked from the table, standing up herself in order to get a better view of what her kids were looking at. All it took was a couple steps forward to make her realize what was happening. She took Jolene and Everest by the hands and yelled for it to follow as they ran.

Cold adrenaline began to bleed into it, it had never seen its mother so panicked. It looked back up to the sky, hearing what sounded like a baby crying... Why was there a baby crying? What was going on?

It ran to catch up with its family, but the sky darkened, going completely black in seconds. It couldn't move anymore. Its feet sunk into the ground. It felt time fly by, years added on to itself. It was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt one moment and a military uniform the next. It had no arm, at least not a flesh one now. The crying was louder. It kept getting louder. It tried to run, to scream out to its family. All it could do was think. I want my mom. I want to go home. I want to hold my sisters. I want to visit my dad. The crying had grabbed it, cold metallic fingers gripping its midsection with a force that burned. And then it saw the front end of a gun and heard a clicking. It raised its arms to cover its face, and suddenly it could scream out again. Burning. Burning in its legs and slowly getting higher. It cried out, Screaming in tune with the Crying. Birds shouldn't cry. Cap sprang up, hitting its head against the bunk above it. Its internal mechanisms whirred and something was clicking when it shouldn't have been. It felt its heart beat hard, the damn thing not pumping anything like blood anymore. It laid back down, thankful Ricky above it was a hard sleeper. Images flashed its vision for a few more moments before it heard his voice. "Be a better asset." It nodded in response, faintly feeling something slip from its eyes. It was a phantom feeling, but nontheless it knew what crying was. It turned on its side and tried to fall back asleep. It pictured its family. Who were those people? Why did it feel so horrible that it couldn't remember their faces?

[wvbaandtheboys]

Power-Up!! (A Punch-Out!! Fanfiction)

Little Mac receives a strange present from the mysterious Mr. Dream, supposedly to help him improve and become even better than he was before. Though both the boy wonder and his best friend, Birdie/Peter are skeptical of the consequences, Mac wishes to fulfill that burning curiosity of his. And it appears that he may have bitten off more than he can chew… (Oh! Content warning for gore. Also, if you don’t like reading transformation stuff, I’mma need you to either click off or proceed with caution. Either way, enjoy!)

“Once we get this operation going, you’ll be stronger than you could ever imagine.”

Mr. Dream’s words echoed back into Mac’s mind.

The young boxer unexpectedly was pulled out of a conversation with his trusted friend, Birdie, for an impromptu meeting with Mr. Dream, the spokesperson for the Dreamland Program and close associate of the WVBA. It wasn’t the most surprising thing to him after the fact, though. The man had scheduled a couple meetings here and there for the next month at the WVBA with Mac to set him up on what he called an “experimental routine.”

The details of this said routine were pretty vague. Mac asked a whole handful of questions to try and educate himself on just what he was getting himself into, but Mr. Dream barely gave out anything. In fact, it was almost like he was teasing the young boxer with potential bullet points, only to brush it off with a pearly smile and a variation of “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Mac had previously discussed possibilities of career-enhancing factors with Mr. Dream before. Though Mac never really thought personally that he needed such things, as he was pretty much content with where he was in terms of rank, the idea of something that would potentially make him even better than he was before admittedly piqued his young curiosity.

His curiosity was only further roused by Mr. Dream’s enthusiasm about the entire operation.

The normally calm and collected enigma of a man showed some degree of excitement towards Mac’s new “carefully adjusted” schedule. Though certainly sly in keeping the intricate details of the product he was going to give the boxer unknown, Mr. Dream was encouraging of Mac to “experience the look before the leap.” However, he was abundant in instructions with where and how the young boxer should handle what he received.

Nearing the end of their chat, Mr. Dream gave Mac a small plastic bottle with a green bottle cap. Inside the bottle was a somewhat opaque, baby blue liquid. The appearance wasn’t at all concerning, in fact it just looked like a regular fizzy drink to Mac. However, the man informed Mac quite insistently that he should not let anyone else drink it. It was for him, and only him.

Those words stuck with Mac as he made his way back to the locker room where Peter was. “Hey-a, Macky! What’s that ya got there?” The blonde haired boy asked, flashing a bright smile at his best friend. “Oh, uh… Mr. Dream gave me this and… told me to try it.” He showed Peter the bottle. Abruptly, as though a flip switched in his head, Peter’s happy-go-lucky expression turned stern. “...He told you to drink that?” Even his voice changed to become more serious than a moment ago. “Uh… yeah…” Mac already got a bad feeling based on Peter’s reaction. It felt like he had a brotherly sense for when something was probably bad for Mac. And he had been right before a couple times.

It was kind of unsettling how intense Peter’s stare was as he seemed to weigh his own thoughts in his mind, thinking of what to say. “...Birdie?” Mac waved a hand in front of his face just to try and get him to blink. “Eh.” He blinked. Thank goodness. “...Mac. I-I don’t think you should drink that. Do you even know what’s in it?” Mac shook his head. Peter’s expression hardened. “So you don’t know what it’s made of or worse, what it’ll do to you. That’s even more reason to not try it.”

Mac could see where he was coming from. He had to admit that he had his own moderate suspicions, especially since the whole conversation lacked details. Though he took Peter’s concerns into consideration alongside his own, he was curious. Oh-so curious of what this little drink could do to make him stronger.

Call him naive, but his young mind just ran rampant with thoughts. He spun the bottle around in his hands, inspecting it from every possible angle like a scientist. There was nothing conspicuous about the bottle nor the liquid within it, but he did it anyway.

“...I-I know. I know. But… I… still wanna know what it’ll do.” Mac’s eyebrows furrowed as he gripped the bottle in his hand. He pinched two fingers around the cap, but made no motion to twist it. “Mac, stop. D-Don’t do it. Please.” Peter reached out his hand, but thought better of the situation and took it back. The growing tension of decision lingered in the air, uncomfortable and somewhat suffocating.

Even Mac felt it. Especially Mac. He was mostly indifferent, but common sense somewhat weighed in. Peter was right: who knew what this thing would do to him once he drank it? It could either help him, hurt him… or even.. worse. It got pretty bad thinking about it.

The tension only grew worse as Mac’s fingers tightened around the cap, slightly moving in a twisting motion. He opened up the bottle and brought the rim to his nose, sniffing at the liquid. The drink smelled pleasantly of citrus, the mild burn of carbonation hitting his nostrils.

“W-Wait, wait. Mac.” Peter stammered. “Huh?” Mac raised a brow. “…If you really wanna find out what it does… I-I can try it for you.” Internally, Mac was pretty touched by that. Whenever Peter sensed that Mac still wanted to act in a situation he didn’t exactly think was safe, he’d offer a solution to solve it himself. As rowdy and haphazard as Mac seemed with little regard for his own well-being at times, he could always appreciate his best friend looking out for him.

But keeping in mind Mr. Dream’s instructions, he started to feel a little worried.

“…Mr. Dream said I’m not supposed to let anyone else drink it, Peter. I don’t think I should do that anyways.” Peter’s eyes widened a bit, looking more annoyed at Mr. Dream’s frankly seedy nature in the situation more than anything. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me…” Mac didn’t want Peter to try it. Yeah, he was a little anxious now to try it himself despite his biting-the-bullet curiosity, but he honestly couldn’t let Peter try it on good conscience. What if something happened to him? What if it hurt him? He wouldn’t forgive himself easily if things went south. Not with Peter.

Mac thought of a compromise. It wasn’t fully satisfactory, but it was the best he had. If he really wanted to fulfill his quest to find out what this drink did, he had to convince Peter.

“Alright, alright. Here, I’ll cut you a deal.” Peter raised an eyebrow a little suspiciously, but he slowly nodded his head. “…Okay. I’m all ears.”

“I’ll drink a little. Not a lot, just maybe…” Mac measured with his fingers a length between just underneath the rim of the bottle to the first ridge. “This much. And then, we’ll wait a bit. If I feel anything bad, and I mean anything at all, I’ll put it down! If I feel just fine, then we can keep it going bit by bit. That way, you can keep an eye on me. Sounds good to you?”

That curious part of Mac hoped that he was convincing enough to at least allow the first part of the agreement to happen. The other boy’s expression remained fixed for a couple seconds, then changed to one of deep thought. For what was probably about two minutes, his face stayed like that. Finally, at the end of that time, it slowly changed to still uncertain, but leaning towards compliance. “You promise me you’ll stop if it happens?...” He inclined his head towards Mac with a tilt, clearly a little hesitant.

“I promise!” Mac nodded.

“...Alright. Deal.”

The young scrapper couldn’t help but give a little grin. He felt pretty clever for a moment about his negotiation skills. He was probably giving himself a bit too much credit, though.

Mac put the rim up to his lips, and drank the amount he specified. It tasted great, just like a lime soda. It was even kind of chilled like a fresh bottle of pop. “Huh. Not bad!” He sat down on one of the benches, nodding his head with a delighted hum. “How do you feel?” Peter sat down next to him, coming across as a little anxious in his tone. “Nothin’ yet. Let’s see.”

The two waited in silence for about five minutes.

“Anything?” Peter asked. “Eh… nope.” Mac shook his head. Peter had to admit that he felt a bit of relief at that, but his guard was still very much up. “...Okay.” He slowly nodded his head. Despite both of them being varyingly worried for valid reasons, Mac didn’t really like seeing Peter worked up like that.

“Hey, Pete. Ease up!” The young boxer chuckled as he wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder. “C’mon, we got a deal, remember? I won’t con ya outta it, promise!” Peter was barely affected by this reassurance, no matter how genuine it was. And while yes, it did bother Mac, he couldn’t be too upset. After all, he had not only gone back on a few of his promises before, but had been mistaken over the safety of particular scenarios. But he was more sure of himself this time around.

Confidently, Mac took another sip of the drink, and waited another couple of minutes.

Nothing.

“...Huh. …I’m starting to think we were worryin’ for nothin’.” The boy remarked as he propped a leg up on the bench. The bottle was halfway finished, and he felt no different than when he hadn’t drank anything. Well, Mac didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was anticipating something rather than seemingly nothing at all. It was kind of a let down, if he was being honest.

A couple minutes later, he had drunk the last of the bottle’s contents without incident. In fact, he felt kind of refreshed after the matter. “Well, Peter? I’m alright.” Mac turned to his friend a bit smugly. “Seems like you were worryin’ for nothin this time around, huh?” Peter sighed lightly, and nodded his head. “...I just didn’t really trust that bottle. I still don’t.” Mac’s grin faded. Peter was really taking this hard.

“...Yeah, I didn’t think you would. But, look!” Mac stood from the bench, pacing round in front of Peter with a confident strut. “See? I’m just fine! Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop Lil’ Mac!” Really, he was mostly doing this to try and amuse his friend. To try and get him to cheer him up. But Mac was also relieved that he was okay. No matter how cocky he felt at that moment, or slightly disappointed by the lack of anything happening, he was grateful nothing happened.

“...Hm.” Peter cracked the tiniest smile. Though he was relieved, he was barely paying attention. Deep down, he was still worried. Something could still happen. That thought clouded his head, sending him into yet another pit of deep thought.

“...Though, it’s pretty weird. Why’d he make such a big deal about this little thing?” Mac held the bottle in a hand still, scanning it over. He then carelessly threw it aside then put his arms up in a stretching motion. “Welp, that happened! What do you say we get some fresh air?”

A loud thud rang out into the locker room.

Peter perked up, and took a glance around. The thud was so jarring that he thought something heavy had fallen out of place, like a locker or a ceiling tile. It wouldn’t have been too shocking. This stadium was slowly falling apart after all, and the WVBA were barely paying any mind to it.

The lockers stood upright. The ceiling was intact. So then, what fell?

He turned back to Mac.

“...Mac?”

He looked down.

The boy was nearly stiff on the ground. Mac was laying on his stomach with his head facing Peter. The expression on his face was haunting. Mac’s eyes were wide, pupils dilated and trembling. His entire body was soaked in droplets of sweat, raining down his skin.

Streams of tears beaded down from his eyes. Drool rolled down from his open mouth to his chin, then to the ground as his chest rose and fell with his strained, ragged breathing. He audibly, yet softly gurgled, unable to form words.

His limbs and neck twitched erratically. Disturbingly enough, it almost looked like his muscles were… rolling. It was even visible just beneath his skin, causing moving lumps to surface for a few moments before disappearing again. He was in such a gnarly amount of agony that it was nearly unbearable to even breathe.

Peter’s heart dropped. “MAC!”

Every bit of calmness he had left him the moment he fully realized Mac had collapsed. His body practically flung itself off the bench and onto the ground, as he held onto his friend’s crumpled form with trembling hands. “W-WHAT’S GOING ON?! PLEASE, T-TALK TO ME!” Mac was affected by Peter’s touch, flipping onto his back with a loud whimper. Almost as though just being touched brought him even more pain.

The other boy’s hands shot up into the air, startled by the reaction. “I’M SO SORRY-!” He felt truly terrible about making him feel even worse. But his entire body was running on so much adrenaline that he could hardly think straight, let alone control his actions. What thoughts were coherent were circling a mile a minute, screaming in his head to help Mac. Just help him.

Meanwhile, Mac was still in intense pain. The initial tidal wave of hurt had passed, which made it a bit bearable, but it still felt like hell on Earth. He felt his muscles flexing, extending and contracting, rolling underneath his skin. His bones felt like they were creaking, making any sort of movement nigh impossible because of the sheer electrifying sensation of pain it would cause. His heart was racing in his chest, almost feeling like it was going to break his rib cage if it didn’t break itself first.

It felt like his body was actively trying to crumble itself into pieces.

Dread clouded Mac’s thoughts. He could only think, as he continued to suffer and his close friend watched, if this was going to kill him. If he was going to just die in front of Peter. No. No… he couldn’t die. This would have been such a foolish and easily avoidable way to die! But the pain he was going through felt like it was killing him. Making his thoughts decay to mush, his vision to a vignetted lens of the world around him.

Why didn’t he listen to Peter?... Why didn’t he refuse the damn bottle?!

Why did he stand there, and tell Peter everything was going to be okay when he also had a feeling that it wouldn’t be?!

Oh…

This was it… wasn’t it?...

Suddenly, a flash of red came over Mac’s eyes. And his dread melted into something else.

Rage.

A distinct rage began to boil in him, unprecedented and rapidly rising. The excruciating pain ravaging the young scrapper’s body became insignificant as this newfound emotion continued to rise more and more, contorting his terrified expression into one of unbridled anger. Confusion turned into intent, becoming clear in his throbbing head. He gnashed his teeth, wave after wave of heat washing over him, making him hot to the touch.

Peter could only sit there in slack jawed awe. He hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on. Just a couple moments ago, Mac was twitching and sobbing in agony with the fear of God in his eyes. But now, he was practically giving Peter a death stare. Peter’s jaw moved to try and form words, but he was rendered near speechless in the presence of such blazing fury.

“...W… What’s going o-”

Mac’s left arm gave a particularly violent twitch-

CRACK!

Pain surged through Peter’s jaw before he went flying backwards. His back met the floor before his head did with a harsh thud, his legs landing hung over the bench they were sitting on a few minutes ago. The taste of metal saturated his tongue, causing him to turn his head and abruptly cough. The floor beside him became splattered with blood. His eyes went wide. Mac… Mac just punched him.

That was no regular punch. No punch from Mac of all people should have knocked him backwards. That swing… It was filled with strength that was unfathomable for someone small like Mac. It was physically impossible for his body to possess.

Peter heard Mac grunt jarringly. Through his dazed vision, he saw the silhouette of Mac, who was now on his hands and knees, breathing hoarsely. Those unnerving cramping motions in his muscles still occurred visibly. Mac suddenly grunted again, but curled inwards as if something were happening to him. Something much worse.

The stunned Peter could only watch as Mac began to change. …To grow. His fairly well built body bulged and shifted, as Mac thrashed and jerked round erratically as if he were trying to stifle expressing anything during this clearly painful transformation. He was near silent, only the sound of his breathing hitching as he continued to morph. His arms were twice, no, thrice the size they used to be after the fact, the same growth happening to the rest of his body.

At the end of the horrific scene, Mac barely looked the same. His now longer hair hung in unkempt spikes, hulking muscles moving with the rise and fall of his chest. His gray tank top had been shredded in the process, laying in tatters of fabric on the ground. For what felt like an eternity, Mac sat there idly. As if he were drinking in what he had just experienced. What he became.

Peter finally garnered the courage to say something.

“...Mac…? W… What… happened to you…?”

Mac jolted, giving yet another grunt as his head turned upwards. Then, slowly, he turned to face Peter. His features had become rather defined, with noticeable cheekbones, a larger nose and thicker eyebrows that made his eyes look a bit smaller than usual. It was Mac but… He looked nothing like himself. He seemed caught off guard by Peter’s state, moving back the slightest inch with a surprised expression. But, as if a switch flipped in his head, the aggression from earlier returned.

Something about the way this new form’s expression changed to express rage was different, however. What was it? Maybe it was the way his eyebrows furrowed so deeply, his eyes gazing at Peter with nothing but disdain. Maybe, it was the way that his nose scrunched as he bared his teeth at Peter. Or perhaps… it was the near animalistic, low and vibrating growl that sounded from his throat. The snarl that followed as he turned his body towards Peter.

Maybe it was all of those combined.

In any case, Peter could only compare how he felt in this situation to how a hare would feel staring down a ravenous wolf.

Helpless.

“...M-Mac…?”

Peter felt a cold shock down his back. His hands began to tremble once more, traveling up his arms to the rest of his body. He couldn’t stop shaking. He… He was afraid. Terrified of what Mac would do to him.

Mac’s body inclined backwards like some sort of animal about to pounce. The growling only grew louder, reaching a fever pitch moments before he launched himself at Peter with a bone-chilling roar, and grabbed his ankles with a vice-like grip.

Poor Peter stood no chance against Mac’s newfound strength. With relative ease, he was swung up from where he stood and slammed against the wall of the locker room. The harsh and loud impact knocked any scream that he could have given to alert anyone out of him. His already limp form then fell to the ground and was promptly pinned beneath the giant’s overwhelming weight.

With yet another roar, Mac began to mindlessly beat his best friend. Just pummeling his body with that rage fueled adrenaline, either unable or unwilling to stop. The sounds he belted out were just as startling. Guttural screaming, snarling, and growling rang out non-stop as he continued the vicious beating.

The swing of a door practically being swung off its hinges was faintly audible in Peter’s near delirious state. “VHAT IZ GOING ON IN HERE?!” Wait… was that… Von Kaiser’s voice…? Had someone finally heard the commotion…?!

“EVERYONE, COME! QUICKLY!” He heard the old German man yell to what was supposedly the other boxers. Immediately, two more voices joined the mix.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?! IS THAT MAC?!”

That was Super Macho Man. No doubt about that.

“AND H-HE’S ATTACKING PETER! WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!”

And that was Don Flamenco.

In the span of two seconds, both Don and Kaiser had their arms around Mac’s biceps, trying to pry him off. It barely did anything. Both men struggled to even slightly move his arms. Though they did have an effect, Peter kept getting heavy punches to the abdomen and face. “OY, MACHO MAN! GET OVER HERE AND BE USEFUL FOR ONCE!” Don yelled to Macho.

“W-WHAT?! I-I’M NOT TOUCHING HIM WHEN HE’S LIKE THAT! I DON’T HAVE A DEATH WISH!” Macho argued back. “Y TE DARÉ UNA SI SIGUES JODIENDO, GILIPOLLAS. ¡VEN AQUÍ AHORA!” Don hissed aloud in Spanish. Upon hearing this, Macho gave a loud groan. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!” Peter saw the larger boxer’s arms wrap around Mac’s neck in some sort of headlock, with Macho arching his back with as much effort as possible to move him backwards. “COME ON, KID! GET OFFA HIM ALREADY!”

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOIN’ ON HERE?!” Yet another boxer’s voice rang out into the room. Macho turned his head in the midst of the struggle. “DUDE! DON’T JUST STAND THERE AND GAWK! USE THOSE FREAKIN’ BEAR MUSCLES AND HELP ME OUT HERE!” “ON IT!” Bear muscles…? That voice definitely belonged to Bear Hugger, then.

Even with the combined strength of two lightweights and two heavyweights pulling against him, it still wasn’t enough to overpower the hulking Mac who just became further provoked by the resistance. He jerked around with what wiggle room he had, trying to throw them off of him. In light of this, all the boxers only held on tighter.

Just one more ought to do it.

“WHAT THE-?!” One more voice came in. “SANDMAN! Terrific timin’! Give us a hand here, wontcha?!” Sandman? Oh, this should work! The last boxer was quick to join the group, pulling as hard as he could. Inch by inch, Mac began to be pulled back, until…

CRASH!

Mac was finally yanked backwards and landed on the floor. All the boxers collectively worked together to hold him down, despite the savage thrashing he was trying to do, still making those horrid animalistic sounds. Kaiser glanced back to the barely conscious Peter, and his eyes went wide. “D-Do you zhink you can hold him?!”

“Y-Yeah! We got ‘im good! Go check on Pete!”

The boxer got up and jogged over to the injured boy, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “…Mein Gott…” It was horrific, the damage done to poor Peter’s body. His stomach and chest were basically painted with splotches of sickly, dark purple. Blood was even coming out from some of the wounds. His face was the worse part. His cheeks were inflamed to a disturbing degree, one of his eyes swollen shut with the other almost looking as if it were going to do the same. Blood splattered the bridge of his nose and from his lips, still running.

“…P-Peter. Can you hear me…?” Peter blinked the decent eye to say yes, as he didn’t have the strength to speak or move anything. Every single part of his body felt like it was on fire, burning and stinging with near excruciating pain. This was the worst beating he had ever received in his life.

Kaiser, though thoroughly horrified, kept a level head and nodded. “I-I’m… going to get you to ze medical bay, okay? You’re going to be alright, my friend. I promise you zat.” That made Peter feel just a little better in this horrible situation. He was terrified that he was going to get the crap beaten out of him and nobody would know. Thank goodness they came to save him.

However, the injuries proved to be too much for Peter to remain conscious. In a matter of seconds after receiving reassurance, his world turned black.

[edgeofpanic]

the obligatory 2022 anime roundup

2022 has been one of the strongest years for anime that I can remember. Nearly every season had its one Big Show with Fall slam-dunking its way into the history books with 4 or 5 hits airing at once. You couldn't ask for a better slate of shows to distract you from...everything.

I've watched a ton of anime this year, both new and old. There are 5 that left a big impression on me that I want to talk about, but here are some honorable mentions:

Birdie Wing: how can you say no to underground mafia golf tournaments with a heavy dollop of lesbianism

Kaguya-sama: Love is War -Ultra Romantic-: it should be illegal to be this consistently good after three seasons and I can't wait for the movie

The Executioner and Her Way of Life: this show is good, yall are just mean

Cyberpunk Edgerunners: what I wish the video game had been in every way

Do it Yourself!!: how can you say no to cute girls doing cute DIY projects with a heavy dollop of lesbianism

Urusei Yatsura All Stars: now I know why people have been in love with Lum for 40 years

Dirty Pair: Project Eden: the platonic ideal of Dirty Pair

I'm issuing a blanket spoiler warning for any of the anime covered in this. With that out of the way, let's get to it.

King of Braves GaoGaiGar + King of Braves GaoGaiGar Final

GaoGaiGar is the series that doesn't know how to end. There are 3 distinct endings between these two shows: one in episode 33 of GaoGaiGar, another with the finale of GaoGaiGar in episode 49, and yet another with the end of episode 8 of GaoGaiGar Final. The stakes get bigger and bigger with each subsequent ending until the fate of the universe itself is on the line. Remarkably, none of these endings ever feel cheap or unearned. Yes, there's some unexpected turns--episode 49's ending in nearly had me on my feet and yelling at my computer--yet they're firmly rooted in the larger than life personalities of our protagonists at the Gutsy Geoid Guard. There's a warmth to them even when yelling attack names at the top of their lungs. None of them could have possibly known GGG and GGG Final would be the last of the Brave series, but each heartfelt speech about heroism makes you wonder if they were giving their all because they felt it was coming. Particular credit goes to Nobuyuki Hiyama and Tomoe Hanba for getting me invested in Guy and Mikoto's relationship, stop and start as it is. Sometimes hets have rights.

Then again, it's got the room to end more than once. Capping out at 49 TV episodes and 8 OVA episodes, the GGG saga is a beast of a saga. We don't see see these kind of episode counts anymore unless you're a legacy show like the Urusei Yatsura All Stars or whatever that new adaptation of The Legend of Galactic Heroes is called. It's a shame, too, because certain genres really benefit from longer runs. GGG thrives on the ability to simultaneously elicit chest-thumping excitement and slow burn drama week-to-week. As you adjust to the world running on Rule of Cool, you come to expect that the heroes can overcome any odds with the power of Bravery and Friendship. It's always worked before.

Until it doesn't.

As the OVA approaches its end, after over 50 episodes with our heroes, Guy's dad dies. An actual, real death that can't be walked back with Guts and Heroism. Everyone overcomes their grief to defeat the antagonists threatening the fate of the universe, but encounter a greater source of despair: there's only enough time to send one or two people away from the collapsing pocket universe they're currently trapped in. The majority of them can't return to the Earth they fought so hard to save. They will never go home again.

I can't remember exactly what I said when this was revealed, but I'm sure it was something close to, "No! They can't do this now!" No one is supposed to die in GaoGaiGar. No one is supposed to realize they may not be able to reap the rewards of their hard work. No one is supposed to realize that the hardships of this world fall on the shoulders of the next generation despite their best efforts.

Yet that's what happens. In the end, the decision is made to send Mamoru and Kaidou back to Earth in the brief window of time the adults have. Only they are allowed to pick up where the GGG left off and continue on in to the future.

While the OP for both GaoGaiGar and GaoGaiGar Final is this big, bombastic affair on being a hero and shouting attack names--DIVIDING DRIVER! BROKEN PHANTOM! GOLDION HAAAAMMMMMMERRRRRRRR!--the ending is much more subdued song named "Someday, In the Sea of Stars". My friend and I usually skipped it because tone shift was too jarring. There's no time for this boring song! We gotta get to the next episode! When the third and final ending of the series uses a rendition sang by all the VAs...it hits. At the end of oaths of bravery, the people you love are waiting for you. And when they're gone, they aren't forgotten. You'll meet them again. Some day, some where.

Serial Experiments Lain

It's been a weird year.

Objectively, I'm doing well. I got a promotion at work, I'm seeing positive momentum in therapy, my friendships are strong. In return, less time and less motivation make engaging with my hobbies harder than ever. Stress and anxiety are at an all-time high. I've been having full-blown panic attacks that leave me figuratively and literally shaken. Most of my time has been spent wondering if I'm stuck coming to the same conclusion of choosing myself when I can't even define who "myself" is, never fully enjoying my life. For fuck's sake, there's a literal dip in my mattress from where I've been laying in place and feeling sad for the last three years. My therapist and friends keep telling me that I need to live in the now, but how are you supposed to stay in the present when it feels like a kaleidoscope of horror? Why would you ever want to?

And in the midst of a weird year in a series of weird years, nearly every episode of Serial Experiments Lain slapped me in the face with the opening dialogue of, "Present day! Present time!"

I've seen critics use terms like "prescient" and "visionary" for describing the show, and it is. Sort of. I feel that it's too steeped in conspiracy theory for those descriptors to be entirely accurate. It shouldn't surprise you to learn its writer would fall face first into QAnon and have the Digimon Tamers kids fight Cancel Culture so. You know. There's that. (For the record, Perfect Blue is my go-to for "on the cutting edge" anime. It does a far better job of describing the terrifying consequences of having your identity stripped away by the ever-grinding internet content machine without being weird about it.)

What the show does predict is the vibe of the Internet 24 years after its release. The bleak, conspiracy-laden conversations from every corner of the Wired feel like doomscrolling through Twitter or Reddit. It's an arresting experience that is obtuse to the point of being annoying and so painfully topical that I paused several times during some episodes to catch my breath. As Lain loses her sense of self to the constant noise of the Wired, she, and we the audience, are trapped between a nightmare of a present that never came to pass and a paranoid future that's all too real.

SEL wears its thesis statement on its sleeve: all people, no matter who they are and where they go, are connected. These unspoken connections are what make us human. The lyrics to the insert song for episode 13 put it plainly, "I try to be connected by something to someone, anyone/In the wandering night, you keep waiting; a signal of loneliness". All she needs is someone who sees her as more than a tool for their own ends or a god to be praised. At Lain's lowest point, her reality-bending powers aren't what rescue her from a liminal hell. Love is what pulls her up to her feet and so, so much more. I can only hope love saves me, too.

I took notes as I watched SEL. Yes, I know that's not best practice for engaging with a piece of media for the first time, but it felt essential to capture my thoughts as they happened. In total, there are around 10 pages (handwritten!) of them. Here's a selection for your enjoyment:

big emphasis on light and shadow. all shadows have this paint splats texture in them. Sometimes the textures move, but mostly they look like blood. Darkness feels so deep as if the characters will fall into them. in contrast, much of the real world is blank white.

that shit where Lain sees the faces of people (willingly?) trapped in the Wired that are constantly cycling through terror and ecstasy is kinda fucked up! is she seeing them? is she hallucinating them?

"we saw someone die and we can't take it seriously. i think there's something wrong with us." prescient.

it's striking how barren Lain's real life is. washed out, barely real. sterile. but the Wired is color, noise. cacophony. the madness and chaos of the human existence. constant connectedness. Instrumentality-esque.

Alice feels like the only person who knows what kind of show this is.

holy fuck Lain's room isn't even a room anymore. at least it isn't one where humans live. but it is one perfectly made for the new God of the Wired.

now THERE'S the anime bullshit!

oh god, everyone staring at you. primal fear unlocked.

"I'm the only me." said while under shifting lights in the dark

Lain is doing NORMAL and FINE

it's all men who say they love Lain. older men, too. 2. it's an abstract kind of love. love of the ideal of normalcy, love from a follower to a god, love from a god to a follower. it's all big concept "love." intangible. contractual in the case of the last two. but not "I called to see how you were" or "left you some food" or "saw this funny picture and thought of you" love. destructive vs transformative. one-sided.

…also score some of the more traumatic moments to this jazzy [music] piece.

Alice is real. and because Alice can remember Lain, Alice who is kind and good and is loved by Lain, this makes Lain real, too. FUCK.

ALL RESET. RETURN.

Gay people truly do it all!

Sonny Boy

Full disclosure, I haven't finished this anime yet and I'm not sure when I will. Binging it is an option, but that feels...wrong. This isn't a show you sit through and then dump from your brain.

Honestly, Sonny Boy is intimidating. It's the only anime I've ever seen that doesn't have an OP or ED sequence nor an eyecatch to break the ever mounting tension. What should be a run of the mill coming of age story becomes a supernatural thriller as the students leap from one confusing dimension to the next. The influence of the manga The Drifting Classroom is obvious in nearly every way.

If you're able to keep up with the emotional toll it demands, you're rewarded with one of the most beautiful shows you've ever seen. Bright colors and incredible layouts ease you into its complex visual allegories. I already know there'll be plenty of new visual clues I'll notice in future viewings. This includes watching how each character reacts to the weird situations their thrown into. The cast is an entire graduating class worth of students, yet every one of them feels like a distinct and unique person. The core cast especially stand out as they're all, and I say this lovingly, weirdos. Now that their school is hopping between realities, these ostracized, lonely kids must now choose between groups of classmates who now violently demand their loyalty. In these unprecedented, unforeseen, extraordinary times, who do you trust? Why?

I've got 6 episodes left of Sonny Boy. I can't wait to see where it goes.

Mobile Police Patlabor 2 the Movie

I'm a self-proclaimed oldhead when it comes to anime. Yes, there are many excellent current anime (more on that in a bit) and yes, I'm grateful new generations of animators willing to push the boundaries of the medium. However, the feeling that most anime created post-2010 are created by committee is impossible to shake. Look at how many isekai and light novel adaptations are pumped out every year. There aren't many shows that where directors' intents and philosophies are blatant anymore.

Mamoru Oshii has a reputation for using a well-established series to explore whatever topic is on his mind. Urusei Yatsura: Beautiful Dreamer swaps out its usual zany humor for reflections on the march of time and nature of reality. Fans of the time were not pleased their hot alien wife was nearly non-existent in the movie. Regardless of how fan criticism then and now, it's an uncompromising Oshii production. You'd think the fan letters with razor blades he received after Beautiful Dreamer would deter him from experimenting with the formula of a well-loved franchise, but he would do it again with Patlabor. Originally an OVA and manga started in 1988, the show is generally a light-hearted affair following a police squadron of goofballs who shouldn't be trusted with giant robots armed with giant-robot sized magnums but they are anyway. Their cases run the gamut from defusing a bomb set by eco-terrorsists to solving a Scooby-Doo mystery to stopping a potential coup by the JGSDF. They'll always get the job done--even if a few buildings and roads get blown away in the process.

None of that fun atmosphere can be found in Patlabor the Movie. Instead of a fun romp, it's a quiet, moody reflection on how those in power abandon those who need the most help in the dogged pursuit of capital and the fluid nature of our reality. With the first signs of the fragility of the economy by the time of the movie's release in July 1989, it's a poignant look at a country on the edge.

Patlabor the Movie 2 is about what happens after the music stops.

You can practically feel Oshii shaking you by the shoulders with each new development, demanding that you ask yourself who must be subjugated by state violence to keep your streets safe and prosperous. Just watch this sequence and tell me you don't feel his righteous fury:

Or watch this sequence and say you don't notice Oshii's contempt for a nation and military willing to oppress their neighbors to ensure "safety":

Neither of these moments have left my head since I first watched it. I doubt they ever will.

This movie is so incredibly Oshii that it would not be the same without him. Hell, I doubt it would even exist. No one else has the skill to make a movie so staunchly anti-capitalist and anti-military while making its cop protagonists relatable.

It is a movie suited not just for 1993, but for every moment spent living under capitalism. This isn't one of my favorite anime movies, it's one of my favorite movies, period. Whether or not you have any prior knowledge of Patlabor, I cannot recommend it enough.

Bocchi the Rock!

Fall 2022 was a barn burner of an anime season. Chainsaw Man. Gundam: Witch from Mercury. Mob Psycho 100 season 3. Spy x Family cour 2. MOTHERFUCKIN' BLEACH. Any of these could easily be anime of the season or anime of the year. For me, the clear winner of both these accolades is….

An anime where a girl gets beat up by birds because she's so pathetic and is left in a Yamcha-style crater in the ground.

You've likely seen 6 videos and 4 essays by now on how BTR is an underappreciated gem. Seeing how it's set the anime world on fire, this status is distinctly untrue by now. Still, it's hard to understate how much of a surprise Bocchi is. My friend threw it on during a session of our longstanding anime nights for fun and both of us were blown away by its quality. Every joke is funny. Every shot is composed for maximum effectiveness. Every VA is giving it their all. Bocchi's VA is learning how to play guitar! Everyone on the animation staff sounds thrilled to be working on this. It is the epitome of a show firing on all cylinders with the creative energy to match.

What elevates a run of the mill "girls make a band" premise is our titular protagonist Hitori "Bocchi" "My Daughter With Every Disease" Gotoh. Her social anxiety isn't a small, cute part of her personality but a disability that constantly gets in the way of her life. Entering a public space becomes an all-consuming fear she'll be perceived as weird or unlikable by total strangers. Asking her friends if they want to hang out becomes a months-long ordeal that's only resolved when they realize what she's been too afraid to ask on the last day of summer vacation.

And yet, she allows herself to try even when at rock bottom. Yes, she plays the entirety of Kessoku Band's first show from inside a cardboard box, but she still gets on stage. The people in her life are happy to help her move forward in any way they can. Bocchi learns--slowly and with many setbacks--that her gloomy personality is accepted by those who care about her. She may not easily make friends, but for those who stick around, they'll be friends for life. She has no enemies.

Personally, that's a hard pill to swallow. As someone with social anxiety, depression, and general anxiety, I've had the same spiraling "god, what if everyone decides they hate me" thoughts before entering a restaurant or grocery store. It's a constant voice that makes it difficult to take walks, message my friends. My life can be a shitty place to be multiple months out of the year. I'd like to say I've made progress, but the Serial Experiments Lain section should tell you everything about how that's going. Each week spent with Bocchi as she strives toward her goals only reiterated what I already knew: the only way forward is through.

And Bocchi does, indeed, go through it. Hell, she literally climbs into a trashcan in the third to last episode. You've seen the tumblr post by now. However, she allows herself space to grow and be a comfort to others, if need be. Everyone in Kessoku Band benefits, as well: Ryo gains a place to belong although she's a loner by choice; Kita fully devotes herself to developing a skill rather than going after several half-heartedly; Nijika finds others she can share her dream of hitting the big time with. They make each other a better band and even better people. While the band finds some success after two successful public gigs, their anxieties don't disappear. Rather, it gets easier for each of them to bear. However long it may take and how many trash cans Bocchi may climb into, they'll be able to shoulder those burdens together.

"This show deserves a second season" is such a cliche at this point, but I mean it for this one. Bocchi the Rock deserves that and more. The anime world, and myself, is made better with Bocchi's uncompromising rock.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Space Mark where he breaks down about the Captain having a scar on their hand from where he ripped the crystal and getting a concussion from when he hit their head with the canister

"Woah. Sick scar, cap. Where’d you get that from?”

Mark felt himself breaking out into a cold sweat upon seeing the large scar etched into your palm. You had taken your glove off as the material was itching it, but even you were surprised at how big the scar turned out to be.

And how it left the imprint of the warp crystal.

Not realizing how clammy he looked, you just told Gunther, Burt, and Celci a made-up story of where you got it from, throwing out whatever bizarre details your beautiful brain could cook up in that moment. While the group of leads gasped and sat in awe at the tale, only one remained completely silent.

The only one who knew the truth, because he was the cause.

Memories of what he did at the warp core came back to haunt him once again, as he remembers how cold and cruel he was to you. He ripped the crystal out of your hand with a pair of pliers like it was nothing, assuming it was just on your glove.

How did he miss your winces of agony and shock?

How did he miss the blood that dropped on the floor?

How did he..not realize how much pain he caused you?

As if that wasn’t already a bad reminder, you suddenly lost focus on where you were in the story, looking dazed as you held your head and shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing a particular spot on your temple.

The spot where he struck you with the canister upon entering the warp core. 

It left yet another crack in your helmet, sending you tumbling to the ground and rattling your skull. So even with that protection, it still managed to give you a-

“That concussion still not going away, cap?” Celci slid an ice pack over to you. “You’ve had it for a few days, haven’t you?”

“Yeah..thank you, CC. I..just wish I could remember where I left off.” You muttered as you held it against your head. “Ironic how a helmet’s supposed to prevent this. Guess I’ve taken quite a beating on this trip.”

Burt comforted you with something poetic about how “difficult journeys often yield the greatest rewards”, though Mark tuned that out, sitting there in numbing realization and guilt:

He gave you a goddamn concussion. He affected your ability to lead, make decisions, and hold simple conversations.

He nearly compromised your very duty as Captain.

And for what? Because he thought you were some monster who wanted to end all of existence?

No..he was the monster all along. The one who punished you for his wrongdoings. 

What was a monster like him doing at this table? 

“Hey, asshat.” Celci spoke up, nudging Mark’s arm in a playful way. He flinched and looked at her. “Some little birdie told me you and Cap are finally together. How did you manage that?”

“Yeah, what’s that about?” Gunther huffed as he leaned his elbows on the table. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Indeed,” Burt nodded. “We don’t mean to pry, but we can’t help but be curious. How has your love unfolded-?”

“E-Everyone...I...” Mark looked to you for a brief moment, his eyes flickering to the scar, before he abruptly got up. “I’ll tell you later....I..gotta take a walk.” Then he left the table without another word. He felt his throat tightening up, eyes burning with tears.

He couldn’t face anyone like this.

Especially not you.

Concerned, you set down the ice pack and followed him, leaving your other three crewmembers confused.

..........

On the ground of the new planet, you arrived at your home. Knowing how often Mark visited, you only expected him to be here. A man like him was easy to predict...to a degree.

“Mark?” You called out as you entered through the automatic doors, wondering where he could possibly be. It wasn’t too big of a house, so it shouldn’t take long to find him.

However, you heard the sounds of sniffles and light sobbing coming from your bedroom. Your heart melted as you knew exactly what he was upset about, but you didn’t know it was taking this kind of toll on him.

Pushing the door open, you saw your lover curled up on the bed, face buried in his knees and his hands in his hair, crying his heart out. He assumed he was all alone until he felt the mattress shift weight, and he looked up to see you now sitting beside him.

“Mark, honey..”

With red, puffy eyes trailing to your scarred palm, he whimpered as he slowly reached a hand out. Then he paused, his eyes flickering back to yours as a silent request for permission.

You nodded and allowed him to take your hand, breaths still shaky as he lightly rubbed his thumb over the tissue, tears freely falling.

He regrets all of it.

The way he attacked you and screamed at you...god, he wanted to take it all back. He wouldn’t care if you did the same to him as payback. It would be much deserved after the hell he put you and everyone through.

Especially you, now that you have a permanent reminder of that.

Who does this to someone they love? Who fought across timelines to find him?

He pressed a kiss against your palm, only to shudder with sobs as he felt a thumb stroking his beard. Bringing your hand to the side of his face, you gently lifted his head up to meet your gaze. He looked so broken. “C-Cap..I..”

Yet all he could do was collapse against you and sob into your shoulder as you brought him into a hug. He tried closing the distance between you two as much as possible. His chest trembled, struggling not to hyperventilate at the crushing reality of what he did to you.

"O-Oh god, I didn’t m-mean...I...god, what have I done..!!”

“Mark, breathe..just breathe.” You ran a hand through his black hair, hushing him and rocking him slightly. “I know you didn’t mean to. You were angry. There were misunderstandings. It’s alright now. I’m gonna be okay. This scar will go away..and my concussion will, too."

“How can..y-you be okay with me making mistake..a-after mistake..after goddamn mistake?! You..should’ve told them what happened.”

“Why would I ever wanna do that?”

“..th-they already hate me. Might as well give them something else to hate..l-like how I attacked their captain.”

“Wha..Mark.” You pulled away slightly with a frown, tucking a fringe of his hair behind his ear. “Nobody hates you-”

“Bullshit. You heard e-everything they said! I’m stupid, incompetent, a-annoying...hell, every alien we met called me ugly, remember?” He forced out a laugh, sniffling as he bowed his head. “I-I’m just as ugly inside as I am outside-”

“Stop it.” You cupped his face with both of your hands, making him look at you. “You’re not ugly or stupid. Not to me.” Gently, you thumbed away the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

“But I-I was stupid enough to give you that scar and hit you with an extinguisher..”

“We all make dumb decisions from time to time.”

"Those..w-were the worst ones I ever made. I thought..y-you’d hate me after seeing that scar. The face you made when you saw it, and the way you looked at me after that...I-I just...I thought...”

“I was shocked, yes. But I’m not angry about it.”

“You’re not? Not even a little?” His eyebrows slightly furrowed with confusion. “B-But..it’ll remind you of how much I hurt you-”

“That’s not how I wanna remember it. If anything..I want it to remind me of how much I love you. Of how many timelines I went through just to find you..and how we fixed this together.” You softly smiled. “You’re a good man, Mark. And I love you so, so much. I don’t want you to ever doubt that, okay? Mistakes can be made, be it one or a million. I don’t care. No amount of them can ever make me hate you.”

The engineer’s shaky breaths slowly calmed down as he smiled in return, putting a hand over your own. No words could express how grateful he was to have you in his life. To have someone who never gave up on him even after you were blamed for all of his mistakes.

“Th-Thank you, ca--[y/n]...god, I love you, too.”

You nodded, pulling him into a tender kiss, feeling the salt from his tears. But at least they stopped falling at last. It broke your heart to see him retreat here just to cry alone, fearing that he ruined things between you both.

Yet nothing was ruined. Not one bit. If anything, this made your bond the strongest it’s ever been.

After sharing the kiss, both of you were breathless but happy. Smiles remained on your faces as you kicked off the boots, laying down on the bed and holding one another closely. Mark sighed as he nuzzled your chest, exhausted from his emotional meltdown yet relieved to still be in your arms.

He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the universe but here.

[biggest-stupidhead]

I was wondering if you’d be interested in doing a nsfw story about Levi + f reader getting walked in on by one of the cadets? Then Levi needing to the the Corps about their relationship then ending with some fluff/Levi holding his ground when others are upset about about a relationship in the workplace? I would really appreciate it 🥰

AN: this is such a cute request! I feel like I could've done a better job with this one so maybe I'll come back to it haha

Summery: Jean, Sasha, and Connie walk in on you and Levi. Chaos ensues.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: oral sex fem receiving, cussing.

kinda steamy in the beginning so a put a cut just in case you aren't into that ;)

______

Moments like this were fleeting and far between. You took what you could get, in empty storage rooms, open fields, in his office. Levi's breath was hot against your lips as he pressed you up against his desk, his knee slotted between your legs. You pulled away briefly to jump onto his desk, sweeping the papers off to the side. He shot you an irritated look but you only smirked wryly back at him. His hands were planned on your knees, prying them apart with fervor and then tugging you closer to the edge so he could press his growing bulge to your own needy cunt.

You groaned and rolled your hips into his as he pressed his hungry mouth to yours. You opened your mouth wider, allowing him to slip his tongue in and properly taste you.

"Levi, we've got to hurry." You felt delirious as he kissed down your throat, his lips burning your skin. His fingers began to tug at the straps of your gear and you began to unbuckle his own belts and buttons. After you had both been stripped of your tops he continued to kiss his way down your chest, gently urging you to lay back on the desk. You did so, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could watch as he tugged your pants down to rest at your ankles. He lifted your legs over his shoulders, bringing his mouth to your dripping pussy.

You spread your legs as wide as you could but he grabbed your thighs and brought them to press tightly against his ears, his stormy grey eyes blown out. You whimpered as he liked a fleeting stripe up the length of your pussy, your hips rolling to meet his tongue. He had just begun to tease your clit when the sound of the doorknob rattling made your heart leap into your throat.

"Levi" your fingers that had been in his hair, pushing him closer to you now tugged his hair, urging him to get his face out from between your legs.

"Mf" His voice was muffled as he still had his lips pressed against your cunt.

"Stop!" You hissed, but it was too late, the door swung open, Jean, Sasha, and Connie stood with wide eyes as they took in the scene before them.

"Captain!" Connie cried, Jean's hands flew to either side and covered his friends’ eyes, while his remained wide as he watched Levi scramble to cover you. You pressed yourself against his back, looking over his shoulder.

"Get the fuck out." Levi's voice shook a bit and Jean nodded, steering his friends away before reaching back for the doorknob and slamming the door shut.

"I told you to stop." You hissed, fingernails digging into his shoulders. His hand was pressed over his eyes, hiding the flush that had developed on his cheeks.

"I know." He groaned, turning to face you, his usual stoic exterior slowly falling back into place.

“Well, what do we do now?” Panic was bubbling up in your throat, thoughts of the cadets going to Erwin or even worse, Hange.

“I’m thinking.” Levi stepped away from you, the mood ruined. You stumbled off of the desk and tugged your pants back on, hurrying to buckle your gear back on.

“We can’t not address it.” You thought aloud as Levi buttoned his shirt.

“I thought I locked the door.” Levi seemed to still be in shock, and you felt for him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, they saw and now we have to confront them.” You said tugging your jacket on over your shoulders.

“We should call them back in here. Tell them to keep quiet.” You were pacing now, the bare soles of your feet padding against the pristine wood floors.

“They probably already spilled to half of the regiment by now.” Levi scoffed, stooping down to pick up the papers you had tossed onto the ground.

“We’ve got to try.” You felt helpless, so irresponsible, and guilty. You were here for humanity, you weren’t supposed to get caught up in your lust. You were a soldier damn it.

“Fine, you go round them up then.” Levi flicked his wrist towards the door and you scowled at the back of his head as you marched off to find the kids.

____

You found them in the mess hall, all of the 104th cadets gathered at one of the large tables. You figured that at this point it would be easier to just bring Levi here. But you paused, noticing that they had not yet felt your presence.

“I don’t believe a word out of your mouths.” Reiner sat with a skeptical look on his face.

“Yeah, no way they would do that on Levi’s desk. He’s too much of a clean freak.” It was Armin speaking now, his fingers twisted together as he processed the information.

“You’ve got to believe us! They were about to fuck right there in the office!” It was Jean who was speaking now, Connie and Sasha both began yelling over him in a hurry to agree. You decided to cap it now before it got too rowdy and anyone else walked into the conversation.

“Cadets,” You rounded the corner you had been hiding behind and they all stood, chairs scraping against the cobblestone floors. Their firsts were clenched over their hearts as you stood with your chin held high.

“Stay here we have something that needs to be discussed.” Their faces were flushed with embarrassment at being caught gossiping. Then slowly sat back down as you retreated, hurrying to get Levi. You came back a few short minutes later, Levi in tow the cadets were silent now, faces turned down to look at the table.

“...” The silence was thick as Levi remained by the door, clearly, he wanted you to take charge here.

“The rumors are true.” You said simply, their heads whipped up, eyes wide with astonishment.

“Captain Levi and I are in a relationship. We’re sorry that you three saw us earlier.” You apologized and Connie’s ears were so red as he avoided eye contact with you.

“I thought relationships were strictly forbidden,” Jean mumbled, and you inhaled sharply.

“They can be...tricky. But I don’t feel that we have to explain ourselves to you. Our relationship has no impact on you.” You glanced back at Levi who was glaring daggers at the kids.

“But you’re our squad leaders.” Armin looked concerned.

“Yes, and we don’t intend to let it affect our work here.” Levi finally spoke up, taking a few more steps into the room to stand next to you.

“But captain-” Eren didn’t get to finish his thought, Levi held up a hand for silence and he deflated in his seat.

“You’re 16 years old you know better than to stick your noses in other people’s business,” Levi grumbled, and the kids all shared some uneasy looks.

“Or at least I hope.” He turned on his heel to leave and you shot the kids a tight-lipped grin.

“See you guys in the morning.” You waved at them and they all looked at you, clearly, they had more questions. But frankly, you didn’t feel like explaining anything to them.

___

You never got to finish what you started with Levi earlier that evening. Instead, the two of you ended up in his office going through the stacks of paperwork and letters that needed signing. You had been working in silence, sipping on lukewarm cups of tea when there was a soft knock at the door. It was timid and it made you flinch, you looked to Levi since it was his office after all.

“Enter.” He said plainly, not even glancing up from his work. Hange came in with Connie in tow, Connie’s shirt balled up in Hange’s fist.

“I got the best news today.” Hange thrust Connie in front of them, their brown eyes alight with mischief.

“Oh? And what would that be?” Levi refused to give them the satisfaction of acting surprised or nervous.

“A little birdie told me that you two were fornicating here in this very room.” They sat down heavily in the sofa and propped their feet up on the small coffee table.

“Really.” Levi huffed, setting his pen aside and looking up, glaring daggers at Connie.

“I-I swear they just heard me and Sasha talking about it! I didn’t mean to tell them!” Connie fell to his knees, hands clasped together in a pleading motion.

“Hange, this is so unprofessional.” You groaned, running a hand through your hair.

“Oh yeah? And getting down and dirty in the office is professional?” They cackled as you rolled your eyes and stood from your seat. Now it was your turn to manhandle Connie. You grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to his feet, pushing him towards the door. He turned and grabbed your forearm, and you paused.

“You gotta believe me (Y/n) I’m really sorry and I’m happy for you two I really am!” He was rambling and you gave him a soft smile before shoving him out of the door.

“Yeah, Connie I believe you, go to bed.” You ruffled his nonexistent hair before sending him on his way. He smiled up at you before turning and running off down the hall. Hange was still comfortable on the couch, and Levi was still scribbling away at his desk.

“Hange you have two seconds before I lay your ass on that floor.” Levi threatened and Hange groaned before standing up slowly and walking backwards towards the door.

“Bye Hange.” You waved to them and they saluted you, fingers pressed to their forehead as they slipped out of the room and shut the door behind them.

“We’ll talk later.” They promised and you nodded in agreement. Once they were gone you rounded the desk and stooped to press a kiss to Levi’s temple. He grunted but leaned into your touch as you rubbed his shoulder.

“It’s been a long day, you should go to bed soon.” You knew that he wouldn’t but you would never stop trying to get him to sleep.

“Mhm.” He mumbled as your fingers wandered into his hair, massaging his scalp.

“I mean it.” You said, this time pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. He loosened up, his head turning to finally face you.

“I’ll try...stay a while longer.” His soft plead made your heart flutter and you hummed in response, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Sure, but I’m going to bed.” You laughed and Levi sighed, shoving his work aside and standing to follow you to his adjoining bedroom.

[yourlocaltrashpandaxoxo]

Just Clowning Around (CONTENT WARNING: H0M0PH03IC SLURS, HUMILIATION, BULLYING)

"Very well done, Ms Adarna! That was an amazing match!" praised the ref, entering the locker room. Adarna smiled. "Thank you!" she replied, tying her hair back into a ponytail. She'd just won a match against Von Kaiser and was feeling pretty pleased with her victory.

"Afraid you can't get too comfy just yet, you're on again in a couple of hours against Celeste" the ref said. Adarna sighed. The ref gave her a look of sympathy and patted her on the back. "I'm sorry..." he whispered before leaving.

Adarna opened up her locker and pulled out a soft brown sweater. She quickly put it on and searched for her mobile. She hummed a tune to herself while she searched, occasionally glancing around to see if anyone was around to talk to.

"Get him in the face! Do it!"

Adarna froze for a moment. Who was that? She closed her locker and looked around. There wasn't anybody nearby.

"Hello?" she called out. No response. "Hello?" she called again, a little louder. Nothing. She shrugged it off and turned back to her locker.

"Look at him! What an ugly bender!"

'What!? Who would say such a horrible thing!?' she thought. The sound of laughter echoed from the far left of the locker room. Not kind, happy laughter. This was cruel, mocking laughter. She began rushing to the sound of the noise.

There was a small crowd of people, holding cellphones and laughing. Buckets of rotten food were laid beside them, all slimy and reeking to high heaven. Stood in front of the crowd was a sorry looking man with gothic clown make-up. His clothes were covered in gross stains and smudges.

They laughed and pointed at him. "Alright, who's ready for his pretty new make-over~?" cooed one of the crowd members, an ugly, stringy man with a stubby chin and a crooked nose. He picked up a heavy bucket off the ground and stood in front of the poor clown.

"On your knees, faggot!" he hissed. The clown didn't budge. "You heard him you complete fag! On your knees!" spat a nasty girl in the crowd. The clown sighed and obliged.

Without warning, the man dumped a huge, slimy mess of galaxy-coloured glitter glue and sludge over his head. The poor clown grimaced and retched at the stench. They all cackled hatefully and shoved their phones in his face.

"C'mon now Clownie! Smile for the camera sweetheart~!"

"Awwww poor wittle bender doesn't like his new make-up! What a pathetic loser!"

"Who's a pretty boy then~? Give your fans a smile~!"

"You're a clown! Make us laugh you pathetic joke!"

Adarna couldn't bear to watch this any longer. She charged forward and stepped in front of the man protectively. "UY! TANTANAN NIYO NA NGA SIYA, ANONG KLASENG TAO KAYO!?" she bellowed, burning with red hot rage. (Translation: HEY! LEAVE HIM ALONE, WHAT KIND OF MONSTERS ARE YOU!?)

The crowd sniggered. "Who's this silly little tart then?" asked the stringy man, smirking. "Go on birdie, fly away back to where you came from" taunted a fat girl with greasy plaits. "Learn to speak English you stupid floozy!" hollered a guy in a baseball cap.

Adarna glared over the crowd. The clown sighed and tried to nudge Adarna away. "S’il vous plaît, mademoiselle, ils ne vous feront que vous blesser..." he mumbled. Adarna ignored him. (Loose translation: Please, miss, they'll only hurt you too...)

"All of you should be ashamed of yourselves! How dare you call this poor man such horrid things!?" she yelled, wrapping an arm around Clown's greasy, sticky shoulder. The crowd chortled with cruel laughter.

"Oooooh! Lookie here! Miss Birdie over here thinks she can turn us!" cackled the stringy man. "For your information, it's Adarna" Adarna hissed. "As if we give a shit! You're just a stupid little hoochie to us!" spat the fat girl.

"As if you can say much! Take a look in the mirror for once in your life!" Adarna scolded. The girl laughed and shoved her phone into Adarna's face. "Guys! Check out this floozy, she thinks she can defend the poor wittle faggot!" she smirked.

Adarna knocked the phone out of her hand. It cracked against the floor and echoed around the room. She glared coldly at the girl. "Kayo ay mga walang hiyang mang-aapi! Paano kayo nasisiyahan manggulo sa ibang tao!?" she roared. (Translation: You're just a good for nothing bully! How can you take pleasure in being so cruel to someone else!?)

"Hey floozy, speak fucking English!" hollered someone from the nasty crowd. "I think it's time someone taught you to shut up, you feathered bitch" snarled the fat girl. She drew her arm back and swung. Adarna was quick to dodge and immediately slugged her in the face.

The stringy man tried to grab her from behind but she swivelled around quick enough to knock him out too. The others looked on with defeated, befuddled looks. The clown simply observed the whole scene, his face blank and expressionless.

"Kapag tinawagan niyo pa siya ng mga pangalan na ganon, pagsisisihan niyo yan" Adarna hissed "Sisiguraduhin ko" the hecklers all glared at her. "Come on everybody... This bitch isn't worth it..." said the baseball hat guy. (Translation: If you ever call him those names again, you'll regret it. Mark my words)

They all got up and trailed out, hurling petty insults at both Adarna and the clown. The fat girl tried hurling a rotten egg at her but the clown quickly took the hit instead. Once they left, he sighed heavily and began ambling away.

"H-Hey! Wait up!" Adarna called, following after him. The man turned around to face her. "Qu’est-ce que c’est?" he asked. "Do you need any spare clothes or anything?" she asked. He shook his head. (Loose translation: What is it?)

"Je le fais toujours, c’est une chose assez courante pour moi" he admitted, wiping a smear of foul sludge off of his cheek. Adarna winced. "You poor thing..." she mumbled, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. He tried to nudge her away again. (Loose translation: I always do, it's a pretty common thing for me)

"Ah, non s’il vous plaît vous n’avez pas à le faire" he said, gently moving her hand away "Je n’ai pas l’air ou l’odeur de la pêche en ce moment..." he tried to shuffle away again. "Hold on! Can I at least get your name?" Adarna called, hurrying after him again. (Loose translation: Ah, no please you don't have to. I don't look or smell peachy at the moment...)

The clown thought for a moment. "Claude" he replied "Claude Le Beau, un nom ironique car je ne suis certainement pas une beauté" he chuckled, looking a bit upset. "I think you're quite beautiful" Adarna said, smiling warmly "I'm Adarna, by the way" she added.

Claude couldn't help but smile back. "C’est très gentil de votre part de dire, mademoiselle Adarna" he said softly. Adarna gently took him by the hand and led him to a nearby sink. She flicked on the taps as he ducked his head under the water in an attempt to rinse out the stinking slop from from his hair. (Loose translation: That's very sweet of you to say, miss Adarna)

"Here, let me help" Adarna chirped, rinsing out Claude's dark black hair as best as she could. "Merci" Claude thanked, splashing his face. "Feeling better?" she asked. He nodded, a faint smile appearing on his greyed out lips.

"Vous n’avez vraiment pas eu à faire ça, mademoiselle Adarna" he replied. "Of course I had to, I couldn't forgive myself if I just stood there and watched" Adarna said, softly "I've had the same thing happen to me before, it's not pleasant" she shuddered, remembering the whole Novio incident. (Loose translation: You really didn't have to do this, miss Adarna)

"Je suis désolé que cela vous soit arrivé, Adarna" Claude sighed, wrapping an arm around her. She smiled warmly at this gesture. "Okay na ako, sigurado ako na hindi na mangyayari yon" she said "Sana ganun rin para sa iyo..." Claude sighed somberly. (Translation: I'm okay now, I'm sure it's not going to happen again. I hope the same goes for you...)

"J’ai peur qu’ils reviennent un jour pour me tourmenter à nouveau..." he muttered "Mais ne pensons pas à ça, ils sont partis maintenant grâce à vous" he rummaged around in his pockets for a moment. "Have you lost something?" Adarna asked, curiously. (Loose translation: I'm afraid they'll be back again someday to torment me again... But let's not think about that, they're gone now thanks to you)

He pulled out a beautiful feather from his pockets and handed it to her. "Un petit quelque chose pour se souvenir de moi, mon numéro est attaché autour de la pointe" he explained, pointing to a small piece of paper tied to the tip of said feather. (Loose translation: A little something to remember me by, my number is tied around the tip)

She smiled and carefully placed the feather in her pocket. "Maraming maraming salamat sa iyo, ikinagagalak kitang nakilala" she beamed. Claude offered his hand to her. "Peut-être que vous et moi pourrions peut-être nous revoir un jour ou l’autre?" he asked. (Translations: A: "Thank you very much, it's been a pleasure meeting you" C: "Maybe you and I could see each other again one day?")

"Of course! I look forward to seeing you again!" she chirped, shaking his hand. He gave her one final smile before stalking off to his locker to find a clean shirt. The ref suddenly came running down the hallway.

"There you are! Where have you been?" he gasped, leaning against a locker door to catch is breath. "Sorry, I was... Helping a friend" Adarna said, smiling. "That's kind of you" the ref replied, smiling back "The match starts in 20 minutes so I'd start getting ready if I were you" he darted off again, looking for someone else.

Adarna watched him leave and made her way back to her locker. She took the feather out from her pocket, looked down at it and smiled.

"Buti na lang tinulungan ko siya..." (translation: I'm so glad I helped him)

(Author's note: Thank you all for reading this! This is kind of an intro for a new oc that I haven't done a bio for but hey this was much more fun. Big thank you to @nesssblog for letting me use Adarna, helping me translate her Filipino lines and drawing the art for this fic! Once again, hope you enjoyed!)

[nightingaelic]

Companions react to the Courier doing the Infinite Money Glitch in casinos.

I had to look this up, OP, and then I had to conceptualize how this would even work in a storytelling context and write it, anyway I hope you're pleased with yourself because my brain feels like a stack of used sandpaper sheets

The courier had been saving up caps for a while, stashing them in odd places around the Lucky 38. Everywhere you looked there were bottle caps: Dresser drawers in the Presidential Suite, empty ice buckets in the cocktail lounge, in jars on every shelf in the penthouse. Saving up caps for big purchases was pretty common behavior in the Mojave wasteland for anyone, so no one batted an eye when the courier assembled all of the stashes on the carpeted floor of the casino and started counting them out, checking six times before stringing them together in batches of 50 and writing down the final total: 32,768.

No, no one so much as blinked when they lugged all 656 strings of caps out the door of the Lucky 38. No one, that is, except the lucky soul who went with them, saw them exchange all the caps for chips at The Tops Casino, then drop the chips in the back of The Aces theater during Bruce Isaac's set and return to the cashier to collect triple the amount of money they walked in with.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade cringed as the courier struggled to drag the haul of caps out the door of The Tops. The jingle of the cap strings was attracting the attention of just about everyone on the Strip, and someone across the street yelled "High roller!"

"This can't be legal," Arcade said.

"Since when..." the courier huffed and puffed, throwing cap strings over their shoulder carelessly, "... do you give a mole rat's ass about legality?"

"What is this?!?" Arcade hissed incredulously, gesturing to the jingling pile. "Is that cashier paying you off? Are those chips the currency for some wasteland tribe I've never heard of, but somehow have a better exchange rate than the NCR does? Did I just witness a payout for a hit on someone?"

The courier sighed and paused to pat the scientist on the shoulder. "Just don't think about it too hard, okay? Now help me out with this, we're going to Doctor Usanagi's to get me tricked out with as many implants as she has on hand."

Craig Boone: While the courier jingled their way across the Strip asphalt, Boone couldn't help noticing the number of eyes turning their way to stare at the enormous payout they were openly carrying. New Vegas was already a town that kept on trucking if its very creator was killed, that was certain: It wouldn't even pause if its latest mastermind was gunned down over a fortune in steel and aluminum crowns. Boone clutched his rifle close and met as many of the curious and envious stares as he could, his own eyes burning protectively behind his sunglasses.

They managed to get all the way back to the Lucky 38 before the courier stopped and spoke to him. "Nothing? Not even a guess about what this is from?"

Boone shrugged. "None of my business. Just don't carry it all at once again. Ever."

Lily Bowen: "Did you win, dearie?" Lily asked, confused. As far as she had noticed, the courier hadn't approached any of the blackjack tables, roulette wheels or slot machines.

"Yeah, Lily." The courier grinned and started handing her strings of caps to carry. "What do you want to spend your winnings on?"

"My winnings?" Lily shook her head. "Now now, pumpkin. You won fair and square, so you get to choose what you buy."

"My treat," the courier insisted. "Anything at all. We could go to the Gourmand for dinner, we could donate to the Followers in Freeside, we could get singing and dancing lessons from the King... what do you want?"

Lily thought for a moment, wracking her brains. "Brahmin for Jacobstown."

The courier looked at her quizzically. "Brahmin? Not bighorners?"

"Brahmin," Lily confirmed, shouldering the strings upon strings of caps. "Bighorners at Jacobstown will make more bighorners, but they have no brahmin. Brahmin are sweet, easier to handle. But no one will sell brahmin to nightkin."

"Okay." The courier nodded. "Then we have to go to the Gourmand for dinner anyway. I know a guy at the Ultra-Luxe who might help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Dios mío," Raul muttered under his breath. "Who did you kill for the Chairmen? They finally paying you back for getting rid of Benny?"

"Pfft." The courier waved him off, dropping a few strings of caps as they did. "Whoops. Help me out here, and I'll buy you a drink."

"A drink?" Raul laughed. "Not the whole bar? You could probably convince the Garret twins to retire if you gave them half of this haul."

"And why the hell would I want to take over the Atomic Wrangler?" The courier shook their head as they loaded the old ghoul up with caps. "I already have one casino I'm incapable of running. The only customers I get are you and the other Mojave misfits."

Raul grinned. "Hey, you invited us in, amigo. We're just the only ones loco enough to ignore the robots and take you up on it."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Oh, sweet squirrel stew." Cass' eyes were as big as the dinner plates in the casino's restaurant. "That's enough change to buy the Van Graffs out of business. That's enough change to tell Alice McLafferty to stick it where the sun don't shine, then back it up with enough muscle to scare her out of the Mojave."

The courier nodded and started handing her strings of caps. "It is also enough change to start funding her competitors and drive her out of New Vegas."

"Now you're talkin'." Cass smirked and accepted the extra weight. "So who're we gonna back? Far Go? The Water Merchants? Gun Runners?"

"Actually..." the courier smiled. "A little birdie told me that the Mojave Express is looking to expand its horizons. Start offering goods in addition to services. And you know me, I like to root for the home team when I can."

Cass laughed. "Well that's a surprise. You plannin' on playin' courier again? Get yourself shot in the head a second time?"

"Not if I can help it."

Veronica Santangelo: "Uhhhh, Six?" Veronica crossed her arms. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to stir up trouble for a bit after the adventure at the dam. This screams 'trouble' to me."

"Aw, lighten up Veronica." The courier winked at her and handed her a string of caps, like a consolation prize. "We're in a casino. The odds aren't in your favor, but at least you can have fun for a bit."

Veronica turned the offering down. "Math may not have been my strongest subject when I was in school, but I do know that 30,000 minus 30,000 does not equal 90,000, under any normal odds. What are you getting yourself- and more importantly, me- into?"

The courier sighed. "It's nothing. Just a little loophole I discovered when I was poking around after Benny's disappearance. I promise, we're not going to get knifed, unless we get waylaid in the street on the way home because I'm too weighed down to move."

Veronica narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I don't trust this," she said after a few beats, "But I'm also not keen to see you try to fight off a mugger while buried under all those caps. Give me some of that."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped, confused, when the courier stopped it from picking up the chips again. Its beeps increased in volume and frequency as they loaded the little bot up with caps at the cashier's counter, until it was hanging low in the air and having trouble turning around from the increased weight. The courier patted its metal dome reassuringly and loaded up the rest of the haul on themselves, until each step they took sounded like a cascade of sleigh bells.

"Back to the Lucky 38," the courier said, pointing toward the casino door. "I've got a bet I need to settle with Raul."

Rex: Rex whined as the courier hung strings of caps off his back. He sniffed each new addition but stood tall on his metal legs, taking the extra weight admirably until he was virtually buried by the wasteland currency.

"Can you still walk, boy?" the courier asked, when they had lightened their own load.

Rex barked. Satisfied, the courier led the way to the exit, opening the casino door with a jingle and ignoring the strange looks they were getting. The two waddled their way to the Strip's main gate and down the main street of Freeside until they staggered into the King's School of Impersonation.

The King, who had been lounging inside the stage room, jumped up when he saw the pair. "Well ain't that some money, honey," he said, clearly delighted. "You actually went and did it."

"Yep." The courier dropped some strings of caps on the nearest table and leaned over it to rest. "There it is. Now, where do we get started on fixing up Freeside?"

[your-highnessmarvel]

It’s Your Captain Tonight NSFW

Requested by Anon: Hi I follow you on twitter and I saw you retweeted that post about chris having an captain america suit in his closet for “special occaisons” so I am asking if you can do a chris evans smut when he surprises his girlfriend you with the suit? You can do whatever you want though thank you! xx

A/N: Wow, i am so proud of this smut LMAOOO but it’s just so NASTY OMG!! I can’t believe i wrote this!!! the gif is EXACTLY the chris that’s in this fic.

Warnings: smut, Dom!Chris, Rough!Chris, Sub!reader

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

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MASTERLIST

You sit on the bed, the covers around you, flipping through a magazine. Your pajamas are simple: shorts and a tank top because the weather is too hot to sleep in anything more. The TV in the corner is on, blaring the news. The lights are dimmed.

Chris is in the bathroom. It’s always like this; your routine. You go in first, taking your time with skincare and showering, while Chris whines that he has to pee. Then, while you fluff up the pillows and prepare the bed for sleeping, Chris just pees and washes his teeth and he’s ready for bed.

“What about moisturizer?” you���d once asked, way back when you’d first started sleeping over. But your boyfriend had shrugged and waved it off because he’s just like that. Pretty like that.

Now, however, he’s been in there for a while. You check the door, see if the light is still on. Shadows dance under the door, but no sound. What is he doing in there?

It doesn’t matter because all you want is to snuggle up to him and watch the boring news until sleep claims you. Or he does.

The door finally opens, and still staring at your magazine, you smirk and ask, “Did you take a little poo?” When you get no answer, your smirk widens. “Usually you take them in the morn...” You trail off because there, standing in all his glory, is Captain America.

So that’s why he’d been growing out his beard.

Not a very long time ago, you’d expressed your fondness for nomad Steve Rogers. After your boyfriend and you had spent the weekend binge watching all Marvel movies because the weather was bad, you’d made a passive point that bearded Steve Rogers was peak. Chris had laughed and said he too liked the beard, but in his heart, home was The First Avenger and would always be clean-shaven, by-the-book Cap.

But now. Now.

You don’t know where he got the Infinity War suit with the ripped chest piece and the darkened star and the dusty layers, but it makes your heart flip and your stomach drop down to your knees. Chris looks absolutely ravishing. You’d only seen him in the suit on screen, but now, under the very real lighting of your room, with Chris’s eyebrow quirking up, he looks ravenous.

Your mouth parts and you let out a whimper.

The dark blue trousers fit snug to his legs, looser around his waist, and as you trail your eyes up, you can’t help but linger on his crotch. God, how many times had you fantasized about him in this suit? How many times had you had to bite your tongue about it when Chris asked you what your biggest fantasy was? Too many.

Chris stands there with a cocky look on his face. He knows what he is doing to you. The rosy cheeks. The whimper. The wandering eyes. The fidgeting.

He doesn’t say anything. His burning blue gaze glues to yours, trailing up and down your body. You close your magazine and toss it onto the night table, scooting to the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging off the edge.

Then Chris licks his lips. “Are you gonna be good for your Captain?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. He’s never been this way before. Always calm and gentle, never assertive or overly dominant. But the intensity radiating off him now burns through you like a furnace, and you can’t help but feel it in your knees.

You nod.

He takes a step forward and instinctively, you scoot up the bed quickly. He smirks, puts one hand on his belt, and gives you that head tilt and eyebrow quirk you’d once said was hot. “Don’t be bad,” he says, and his voice is low and roach, and something switches in your stomach. “You know what bad girls get.”

He takes another step, and just to spite him, you flip over and attempt to crawl to the other edge of the bed. But his hand clamps down around your ankle, and with one harsh tug, he has you splayed on your stomach.

“Ah ah,” he coos, stepping between your legs. Your skin tingles where his fingers touch you, as they skim your calf, up the back of your thigh. You press your cheek against the sheets, hair splayed messily around you. “Be good,” he demands, and this time, his tone is harsh.

Heat spreads in your belly. “Yes,” you whimper.

“Yes, Captain,” he corrects behind clenched teeth.

This side of Chris, this animal, hungry, powerful side of him had otherwise been hidden from you, and now that it was out, you wanted to play.

“Yes, Captain,” you murmur.

His left hand grips the band of your shorts, and using his leverage, pulls your ass back until you can feel his belt buckle against the back of your thighs. The sting of it is cold and you wince lowly.

Chris chuckles. Still holding you, he uses his right hand to unbuckle himself, tug the belt through the loops, and rip it free. There’s a moment where the clang of the belt echoes in the room, the moment stagnant, and all you feel are his eyes raking over you like hot coals. Then the leather strap trails lightly across your clothed ass, and shivers erupt on your skin.

Chris’s voice is low and tantalizing when he speaks. “A birdie told me you like men in suits of armor.” His left hand sneaks up into your hair, grips it, and yanks you back slowly until your back is pressed against his chest. You breathe shallowly, your hands braced on his thighs. His nose nuzzles your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “Let’s see if you like to get fucked by one.”

The sheer intensity in his voice makes a moan leave your lips unexpectedly. He hums in approval before bending you back onto the bed. He uses an arm under you to effortlessly position you so you’re facing the headboard, and then climbs in, flipping you on your back with one hand.

Facing him now, you can see the darkness in his eyes, swimming in the blue, clouded in lust. He straddles your waist and you reach up to touch him, to run your fingers in his locks, but his hand shoots out and grips your jaw. “Tss tss.” Again, that dominant tone as he pushes you back into the mattress. Eyes, blue and taunting, trail up your body, to your gaze, then to the belt in his free hand.

You know what’s coming when he takes both your wrists in one hand. You’ve never been tied up before, and the idea of being completely at someone’s mercy makes you squirm.

And that doesn’t please Chris.

He squeezes your wrists and shoves them over your head, inciting a small yelp from your lips.

“I said be a good girl for your Captain,” he reiterates, his tone vicious, lustrous, as he looks at you with one eyebrow cocked.  

“Yes,” you whimper. And then, when you see his mouth twitch, you add, “Captain.”

He smiles triumphantly and proceeds to wrap the leather belt around your wrists, and then secures it to the headboard. You give one tentative tug, but you’re tied in real good.

Chris leans in until his lips are grazing yours. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

His blue eyes stay glued to yours as he slowly slithers down the length of your body. You’re buzzing, trembling, anticipating what’s coming next. But Chris is in another mindset, a different dimension, because just as his mouth lingers over your clothed apex, just when you feel his warm breath on you, you are right back onto your stomach. 

Your wrists are criss-crossed, fingers clenched against your bindings. “Chris.” The name leaves your lips in a whoosh, the movement of him flipping you over once again almost knocking the breath from your lungs. 

There’s a hand in your hair, pulling, faster than you can even blink. The weight of him over you, warm and heavy. His mouth at your ear. “Captain,” he demands, voice clenched. 

You shiver. Your ass is right at his crotch, and when you move up slightly, you can feel just how hard he is through his trousers. He really likes this. 

Then his weight is lifted. Hands on your hips, gripping your shorts, and he slides them down your thighs, down your calves, until your shorts are being chucked across the bedroom. His knees leave the bed one by one as he positions himself between your legs. You become very aware of how naked you are when cool air brushes up against your bare pussy. And you become very - very - aware of how wet you are. 

Chris groans when he sees you, glistening, ready, wanting. “You’re such a mess,” he grunts, hands on your ass, kneading, spreading. 

You flex your hands, feeling the blood leaving your fingertips. You look back, strands of hair in your face. Chris has eyes just for your pussy, his eyes wide and blue, mouth parted and wet. This look on him; this look of utter lust and desire and possessiveness is enough to make you squirm your hips. Searching for friction. Your bud, sorely neglected, rubs against the mattress. A moan passes your lips, and Chris is quick to grab the flesh of your haunches and yank you up and back, so that your ass is in the air. And you lose the friction on your clit. 

A whine comes from your throat, and surely, right behind that, a smack on your ass. 

“I’m the one to give you any kind of pleasure tonight,” Chris groans, his fingers digging into your flesh. “Nothing else. That’s why your hands are tied.”

There’s no possible way you can answer coherently, so you whine and wiggle your ass back, desperate for his touch. For pressure or friction or anything!

His hands leave your ass and slither down the backs of your thighs. You can feel the rough fabric of his trousers against your skin, but he is keeping safely away. 

“Chr-Captain, I want you to... touch me, please.” Your voice is frail, breathy, husky. Chris’s soft caresses turn aggressive and he is once again grabbing your skin. 

He doesn’t answer, instead finding your clit with his thumb and pressing. Your desperation leads you to moan and jerk backward, searching for more. He complies with a snicker, rubbing his thumb along your swollen and soaked clit, circling, flicking, pressing. You’re moaning and whining, muffled against the mattress, your breathing labored. 

He smacks your ass again, mumbling a low, “Mine,” with urgency, and then his middle finger plunges easily into your hot core. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, wiggling your ass back. His finger slips so easily inside you that it’s almost embarrassing. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles, thumb finding your clit again, simultaneously pleasuring you. 

At this point, you don’t care if you sound desperate. “It’s all for you, Captain.”

He makes an acquiescing sound and plunges a second finger into you, pumping slowly, eliciting a low moan from you. 

“Do you know just how fucking hot you look right now?” he asks, his voice rough and low and breathy. 

You can’t answer because the precipice is coming and you’re searching that climax with urgency. His thumb flicking quickly and tightly against your bud and his fingers pumping in you, petting that spot, makes you want to say the most nastiest things to him. 

The knot in your belly, just under your navel, begins to burn. You moan louder, Chris’s name coming off your lips like a mantra. Your walls clench around his fingers, your clit buzzing, searching and begging for release.

“Come on, baby,” Chris mumbles encouragingly. 

And then you’re cumming, clenching around his fingers, moan echoing in the dim room, legs trembling from the force of your fall. Pleasure throbs from your core to your knees and down to your toes, and you’re curling them against Chris’s thighs. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, slapping your ass, biting the sensitive skin with such force that your moan turns into a yelp. 

Behind closed lids, your breath echoing in your ears, you can hear Chris unzipping his trousers, fumbling with the fabric. The bed dips, and then your aching, buzzing core is poked by Chris’s cock and you whine low in your throat. 

“Are you ready for you Captain, babe?” he purrs. You nod, clenching your numbing hands.

One hand on your hip, he uses the other to guide himself into you. It’s always a stretch when Chris fucks you. His girth and his length combined are enough to have you breathless, struggling to adjust. And it’s like that now, as he eases into you, you stretch around him with a soft, stuttered moan. Your orgasm left you tight enough and throbbing enough that as soon as Chris is halfway in, he can’t control himself any longer. 

In one swift thrust, he’s bottomed out, and you’re writhing on your knees, trying to take him in. 

“You’re so tight, baby, fuck,” he moans, both hands gripping your hips like they’re his anchor. 

He doesn’t let you adjust like he normally does. Instead, he begins a pace; slow, languid thrusts, deep and harsh, that leave you shuddering and begging for him to make you cum again. 

“Are gonna cum for your Captain again, baby?” he groans, fingers gripping, hips snapping. “Huh? Are you gonna cum all over this cock?”

Those words, so dirty and so unlike Chris, make you clench around him, wiggling back on him, wanting him to keep hitting that spot inside you that makes you want to scream. 

He’s not chasing his high. He’s chasing yours. The pinnacle starts and you’re moaning so loud, the sheets between your teeth. His cock keeps caressing your tight walls and hitting that spot each time. He’s a God. 

You cum for the second time, stars dancing behind your closed lids, clenching around him so hard it makes him slow his thrusts. “Fuck, baby, that’s good,” he moans lowly, giving your ass one more smack, enjoying the rhythmic throbs of your soaked pussy around him. 

He slides out of you and the emptiness left behind makes you sigh, but he’s not done with you. 

One hand pushes you by the hip until you collapse onto your side, panting. He reaches for your binding and rips you free. Your wrists are red and sore, but you don’t even feel it. You’re buzzing so hard from your orgasms, from the sheer sensuality and lasciviousness of it all, that you don’t even care. 

Chris takes each wrist in his hands, and for a split second, it’s not Cap anymore as he kisses each injured wrist. 

As soon as he came, he goes. The dominant, harsh man comes back as he pulls you by the thighs until you’re flat on your back. 

“You’re gonna make your Captain cum, now, are you?” he asks, eyes searching yours. You nod compliantly, spreading your knees, reaching out to touch his shoulders. “Good girl,” he groans, aligning with you again. 

In another swift thrust, he’s back inside your soaked walls. You’re full and you want more and you want to sink your teeth in his shoulder. He uses his elbows to not crush you, but each thrust, now more rigid and forceful, takes your breath away. 

Your third impending orgasm approaches faster than you thought with each snap of his hips, and when you begin to clench around him, he groans low in his throat. He hoists himself up on his hands, and one hand wraps quickly and surely around your throat. 

The sight of him - mouth parted in a low moan, broad and shapely shoulders hunched over you, that darn fucking suit still on him while he pounds into you - are enough for you to throw your head back and moan. It gives more access for Chris to squeeze his fingers around your neck, hips snapping so hard that you’re bouncing up the bed. 

He knows you’re about to cum, and when your walls are tight enough for him to join you in your ecstasy, he brings his thumb to your clit and the pressure is enough for you to erupt. 

Chris’s hips stutter while you clench impossibly tight around him. Your eyes close and your body hums with pleasure, as Chris gives one last harsh thrust before he spills into you, groaning low in his chest. 

You’re barely aware of the aftermath. When your senses come back from three fucking orgasms, Chris is laying on his back beside you, breathless, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“That was - God, baby that was so fucking good,” he breathes behind closed lids. He’s smiling, and so are you. 

“It must be so hot in that suit,” you breathe back, searching for his hand on the bed. He takes yours and brings your knuckles to his mouth. 

“You have no fucking idea,” he answers with a chuckle, lingering his mouth on your knuckles. 

You smirk. “Shower?”

Chris laughs, but slowly turns his head to you. “Give me five minutes.”

[starlight-starwrites]

EZRA as a gold miner in the 1870s

okay honey. you asked for it. (ps i love red dead so much that is all) ((can i just say how much i love this au?? at first i was like ‘what’ and now i am YEARNING and i love the wild west, so yeah i went a bit feral with these))

also fair warning: unedited 4.3k. and there is public kissing omg.

-your family moved from the state of georgia to the state of california just before the war had started. you were too young to remember what it was like at the time, or the reason why. but you remember the hushed conversations of your parents, the way your older siblings shooed you away when you asked.

-you remember your mother packing up your many things, loading them into too many wagons, herding your four older brothers and two sisters before you. your father had smiled at you, handing over your doll and saying “it’ll be an adventure darling. we’ll go so many places, and we’ll get to see mountains. you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

-you had beamed back, showing off your teeth that had yet to fully grow in, and promised your father that you would be the best of his seven children and would follow him anywhere.

-you held true to your word, even as the youngest. you had weathered the trip with a positive attitude, and when a trunk of your things, including your favorite doll, had been lost, you still smiled and said you’d find better things in california. “all i need is the mountains and our family, papa”

-california had been every bit of the dream to your young eyes. as you traveled through open fields, watched the sun set to paint the country in a summer orange, even as it autumn ended, and the mountains stood tall on the horizon, you loved it. and as you grew, you loved it no less.

-when the war had ended, and your oldest brother returned, victorious and with his bride from chicago, your family was complete again. but as happy as you were, your heart still yearned for more.

-your father, a clever investor and a friend of the banks (or scheming businessman to your sour neighbors), had always been wealthy. your family lived well, you always had your pick of dresses, each of your siblings married to well-to-do connections, even with the move. except you.

-you enjoyed the benefits of wealth, but even at 21, you ran barefoot through the dirt of your father’s land, rode your proud stallion through town with a wide brimmed hat, and managed to wheedle your way into the hearts of every gentleman, gambler, and cowboy in new hanover.

-you were greeted with a ‘good day, miss’ and a tip of a hat everywhere you passed. the town’s people knew you by name, called you ‘young man holder’s daughter’ (your father had bought the land you lived on now from old man holder. now slowly advancing toward 60, your father was very pleased to ever be considered ‘young man’ anything, even if his name was not holder). in return, you knew the town’s people by name, greeted each as you rode in for another pack of gum, the shiny riding boots just come in from the factories, or for a drink you wouldn’t tell your father about.

-so when one day you pass by a man, maybe a few years your senior, and you don’t recognize him, a part of you feels obligated to introduce yourself. he wears faded overalls, a dirtied tan union suit underneath, and large brown boots that looked as though he had walked the entire transcontinental railroad in them. his cap covered his eyes as he leaned against the general store, but you could follow the curve of his nose to the pout of his lips as he held up a book.

-the cover was worn but you made out the word ‘poems’ along the binding. he certainly doesn’t look like the type to read poetry, perhaps not even the type to read at all, but he seems so invested that after you hitch Friday to the post, you walk past without greeting him, and enter the store

-when you leave, a parcel of things on your arm, he’s still there, reading the book, now much further along. you may have glanced at him already, but thinking it impolite to stare, you search through your bag to pull out a stick of gum, walking to where Friday waits patiently for you. when you reach him, placing your things in the saddle bag and popping the gum in your mouth, you accidentally glance over at the man again, only to find him staring right at you

-you notice first the warm brown of his eyes, and just the very fact that that he’s looking at you starts a flutter in your stomach. his mouth is quick to curve into a smile as he lowers the book, nodding to you

-“well good day, ma’am. don’t you look like right sunshine on a cool evenin’. a warmth i couldn’t turn away even in death valley itself”

-he says it so assuredly that you think that he practiced it, maybe he’s quoting directly from his book of poems. sure, you were wearing your plain yellow dress--it came above your ankles, showing off your new riding boots, already muddy, and the hem had been darkened with dirt--and you thought your light brown hat complimented it nicely, but no one had truly ever said something like that while you were dressed like this.

-you really didn’t know how to respond. so you laughed.

-he smiled back, smirk pulling back his lips to reveal straight teeth. he pulled off his cap and pushed back his hair with it, revealing a patch of blonde among the dark brown of his hair. he didn’t seem put off by your response in the slightest.

-“ain’t you something?” you finally said. wishing the heat on your cheeks was only due to the high noon sun. “i don’t believe i’ve ever seen you before, mister.”

-you were happy you were able to come up with that at all.

-“of that, i am sure, my lady. for i would never forget a face as enchanting as yours, and i could never go on living without speaking to you even if only once”

-christ alive, he’s cheesy.

-he’s pushed off from where he leaned against the building, stepping down to stand opposite you, the hitching post the only thing separating the two of you. Friday stands steadfastly at your side, huffing as he comes closer. you fight the urge to tell him to hush.

-“what? you reading all that from your little book?” surely he doesn’t speak like this normally. you try and fight the way it makes your insides flutter.

-“this?” he hold it up, showing you the worn pages. “no, ma’am. i’m afraid this reading is of darker matters and the mortality of the human heart. and it sure ain’t what i’d like to discuss with you.” he grins at you, leaning forward a little more.

-there are so many things you could say back. and what would you like to discuss with me? is at the tip of your mind. and where did you learn to speak like that?

-“really? poetry?” is all you ask instead. you ask it while wrinkling your nose, and he sees you don’t believe poetry is worth all that. you wish you were better at this.

-“you don’t like poetry?” his eyebrow raises and his mouth pouts again.

-you shrug. “i don’t think i’ve ever really read it, is all.” you don’t want to disappoint him for some reason.

-at your words he smiles again, holding out the book to you. “then you should. take it, i’ve found hours of enjoyment in this little tome on its own. surely, you will too.”

-your eyes widen and you try to refuse, you couldn’t take what little this man had in the first place, but he insists, i’ve read it many times over sunshine, besides, i want to know what your opinion on my silly little pastime. read it over, i’ll be in town. tell me what you think.

-and now suddenly as your hand curls around the book, pulling it to your chest, you realize you’re going to see him again. it doesn’t seem like an unfair deal at all. you’re only borrowing the little book.

-he offers to help you mount and you refuse, deftly hoisting yourself up and hoping he’s impressed. he nods his approval, coming to your side as you turn Friday toward the road. come find me here again, sunshine. i’d hate to have too many dark days while i wait.

-you return home with a smile too big for your face, it falling only when you realize you never even got his name. you sit through dinner with a bouncing leg, decide that you’re going to read that book just so you can find him again to learn it. and that night you sit up, burning the oil lantern by your bedside to read the little book cover to cover. you find it’s not just poems, but his own little writings too, scrawled in the margins and gaps. and suddenly its not just his name you want to learn.

-you decide you love poetry, and you tell him so when you see him two days later. he walks with you, until you reach the end of town, and then you both turn around and walk back.

-his name is ezra you find, and when you give your name in return, you shiver at the way it sounds in his mouth. you talk about nothing and everything. to what you had for breakfast to the fleetingness of life and you like it. you like him.

-too soon you’re parting, you have to get home, he has to get to work...and as you ride away you realize you don’t know why he’s in town. i’ll still be in town little birdie, come see me again, he said when you mounted Friday.

-“birdie? what happened to sunshine?” you laugh at him.

-“well just look at your dress today. looks like you could fly away into the clouds, my birdie.”

-and you can’t believe that the only thing you can think about is the way he said “my”

-two meetings turn into three, and next thing you know, instead of riding to town two, three times a week, you ride in every day. you learn he’s a prospector, brought here by an ambitious man hunting gold that was never found. you want to laugh, but the way he believes in the possibility makes you pause.

-you have a drink in the saloon when you’re up for it, take lunch with him in the parlor (he feels like he shouldn't be in here but you looped your arm around his and dragged him through the door, and the hostess nearly dropped everything to serve you two. he knows you must be important, but he sees how everyone loves you the same as he does)

-and you go on rides--ezra wasn’t sure about this one, he doesn’t have experience just hopping on a horse to go wherever he wants--but Friday is big enough for the both of you, and you don’t take no for an answer. he laughs as he clings to your waist, feeling like he should be the one leading you, yet never happier to see you in your element, and have the privilege to touch you at all.

-days have bled into weeks, and your family takes notice. you never were one to stick to a schedule yet here you are. the excuse ‘picking up things from the store’ only runs so far. your father is on to you, you know, but it has never turned from lighthearted teasing.

-the next day he insists you take the wagon with him to town, picking up groceries for the cook for the rest of the week. you can’t say no.

-ezra’s waiting where he usually is, looking for the dark chestnut stallion to come trotting up, you in a new dress sitting proudly atop him. Friday has gotten rather fond of him, he’s proud to say, and he was hoping you’d take him on a ride again so he could steal you away.

-instead he looks up from the new poetry book you ‘lent’ him--the pages are pristine, and he is sure that he is the first to read it--and he meets the eye of an older gentleman, dressed in a fine suit and driving a painted wagon. he nods to him, before his eyes dart to the woman next to him.

-he can’t hide his surprise as he meets your eye, wearing the finest dress he’s ever seen you in, and his jaw drops. each one he thought was nicer than the last, and each time he sees he is wrong. your eyes are wide and you mouth something to him, but he isn’t paying enough attention to make it out.

-he turns in place, eyes following you as who must be your father turns into the path beside the grocer, and pulls the wagon to a stop. he helps you down, and ezra can do nothing but watch. your father is talking to you, stepping to the door, but you’re staring at ezra, motioning behind your father’s back as though you want him to do something.

-he inches forward, hoping to catch you and not the ire of your old man. he knew your relationship with your family was good, that despite petty squabbles you loved all six of your siblings, and your parents too. but you had never talked about what they would think of him.

-ezra is a confident man, never concerned with being judged, never afraid to speak his mind. he knows he’s a charming man. somehow, you make all this different. he’s standing now beside the wall of the store, looking at the two horses of your wagon, disappointed neither are Friday.

-his heart beats faster when the side door opens, turning quickly, and only relaxes when he sees its you. you spot him quickly, lifting your skirts to rush down the stairs to meet him. he pushes off to grasp your hands when you reach for him.

-“ez, i am so, so sorry. i know i’m late but my father--”

-its not what he thought you’d say. he squeezes your hands to stop you, and then he’s teasing you. first that you’re embarrassed, then for how you’re dressed. “pretty as a sugar cream pie. you look like madam trelawny’s curtains suddenly breathed life and walked off on two legs”

-you hit him, but you’re laughing. of course he knows the best way to ease your panic. trelawny’s parlor was rather frilly. but you return to the matter at hand, worrying about your father and any ruined plans with the man in front of you.

-“it’s quite alright, flower. i suppose i was bound to meet your father at some point.” you look at him, nervous. “i gather from your contrite expression you have yet to mention me to him?”

-you fear how he would react, but he seems to accept it easily, as if he would be equally surprised if you did mention him. he’s disappointed you can tell, and you wish things were more different than they felt.

-your father emerges much sooner than you expect, and ezra tenses despite his brave words. he wishes he appeared different, had a suit of his own to wear. your father looks stately, crisp whites and pressed blacks, and ezra immediately pulls his hands from yours.

-or he tries to. one hand slips away, but you grip his other tighter, refusing to let go. it sets his heart going, that even if you had failed to tell your father about him before, you wouldn’t hide him.

-your father looks at the two of you with a smirk, and you know that means his only thought is i knew it. he comes to join you, saying “and you must be the reason my daughter has suddenly found such an interest in town.”

-he makes no remark otherwise, but gives his hand and a polite smile as he introduces himself properly. ezra relaxes slightly, releasing your hand for your father’s and giving his name. he’s back to his charming self, all yes, sir and intelligent humor. you can see how even your father is surprised by him, and you grin at the two of them as they talk, relieved at the turn of events. until your father asks what it is he does. at the word prospector, all your father can say is “ah.”

-the grocer has loaded the wagon while they talk, conversation pointedly ignoring the matters involving you. eventually your father insists you must be leaving, but you clear your throat, eyes darting between the two of them. “dad...ten minutes?” you hiss to him.

-ezra pretends to be distracted by something in the distance while you and your dad silently communicate.

-“five minutes, i don’t want the food to spoil sitting in the sun.” he relents easily, says his goodbye to ezra, and turns to walk to the wagon.

-you immediately take ezra’s arm and pull him in the opposite direction, walking quickly. ezra’s already prattling on about how that seemed to go well, and that your father was a good man, you’re lucky to have him, and he hopes that maybe--

-you finally get him behind the shop, out of sight from the road. you don’t hesitate to pull his face toward yours, planting a kiss on his lips. he’d only kissed you once before, it was sweet and gentle, an until-next-time-kiss you had dreamed about everyday since.

-never before had you kissed a man. but here, hiding in the shadow, with his lips on yours, nose against your cheek, hands coming to grip your waist, you knew you would be doing it again. it did seem the best way to shut him up, after all.

-too soon you’re back in the wagon, sitting in silence with your father. you want to know what he thinks, but with the feeling of ezra’s lips on yours still seared into your memory, you don’t trust yourself to start a conversation.

-your father does it for you. “so...he seems a decent fellow.”

-“yes.” what were you supposed to say? “he’s a good man.”

-“i’ll be honest, i would have expected him to ask to call on you.”

-you grit your teeth, trying not to die from embarrassment. “i suppose i’ve been more of the one to do the calling.”

-your father is amused at your discomfort, decides he’ll have this conversation now. and suddenly its how did you meet him, and where have you been going, and should i be worried?

-you sigh.

-but a couple days later you’re with ezra again, its been nice, he’s been to the house, your father does not seem to either approve nor disapprove, and you expect he’ll share his opinion soon. but you had expected it before ezra shares news of his own.

-the man he works for is ready for another job, undeterred by his lack of success, ready for bigger horizons. ezra intends to follow him. its a period of days of stiff conversation, sad goodbyes and even sadder hellos. you count the days until he leaves, unsure of what to do. he gives you promises, dreams of the future, and you’re not sure of what to make of it.

-your father seems to know whats going on before you tell him. and he sits quietly and listens as you wail to him. only when you finish, he says to let ezra go, to send him away with affection. he was kind while you knew him, but don’t expect him to return. you’re too empty to argue with him.

-you go to bed, still read ezra’s little book, and wonder if he sits awake with yours. he leaves the next day and you give him a small kiss farewell. he’s all smiles and hope and promises. you’re quiet and acquiescent and kind. he doesn’t seem to notice, talking about his next adventure.

-you watch him leave with his group, wearing the same hat when you met him, but new boots, sturdy and factory built. you hope he remembers you, still torn between his words and your father’s.

-you wait for him. thinking you may receive a letter, like he said he would send you. you do. the first letter arrives after he’s arrived in a new town, Poker Flat, up in the mountains. a few more come each week. and then they slow. its not even been three months when they stop. you don’t know what to make of it.

-you still ride into town, pick flowers in the fields, play with your nieces and nephews in the dirt. it feels more hollow now, this life you live. his little book sits untouched in the drawer of your bedside table.

-you’re not sure if it’s anger or sadness, but you pull away, searching around you, inside yourself for something with meaning. you still smile, you greet people, as though a sliver of hope still waits inside you. you think it was a line from one of his poems.

-it’s been over two years when you see him again. you’ve taken to driving trelawny’s wagons, transporting supplies between her parlor and the next town over. you’ve got pants under a single skirt, a cropped jacket over your shoulders, and a shot gun propped on the seat next to you. Friday took a long time to get used to the harness, and he still refuses to behave sometimes, but you believe you make quite the team.

-you’ve hopped down from the driver’s perch, adjusting the back of the wagon, when you hear a voice greet your horse. “well, look at you old boy. never thought i’d see you like this.” and you can’t catch the rest of the words. you only focus on the voice, once so familiar to you.

-you walk forward, in disbelief. ezra stands there, petting Friday’s long nose. he seems happy to see ezra. you can’t say the same.

-it was anger you felt, you realize. he’s standing here like he never left, only now he wears a full black suit, a ribbon tie around his neck, a short top hat on his head, and the scruff on his face you so used to love is now neatly trimmed along his jaw.

-he looks ridiculous.

-when he sees you he stops, then smiles. he nearly skipping around to grasp you by your arms already chattering. “i did it, sunshine! you should have seen what we’ve found. Poker Flat was a bust, of course, but the sheer magnificence, and oh the adventure, flower, if only you knew the precariousness of...” and so he goes on to tell you where he’s been. you hear excuses. to his credit, he stops himself sooner than he might have, noticing your silence.

-“what is it, my birdie?” his smile drops, his hands now merely hover over you. “did i take too long? have i--have you...” for once he’s speechless.

-you can’t say anything, the lump in your throat growing. he can see you fighting back tears, and pulls his hands away but steps closer, hovering over you as if he wants to comfort you but unsure how, unsure if he had that right.

-you take a deep breath to steady yourself. and then you slap him.

-it knocks the silly hat from his head, revealing that blonde patch of hair you used to love running your fingers through. he’s stunned, head still to the side, mouth hanging open, hands raised between you. you wish you knew what to do with your anger.

-but he did keep his promise. maybe he didn’t write, maybe he made you think he abandoned you, but there’s a reason you’ve been missing him for almost three years, still haven’t gotten rid of that little book in your drawer.

-you take him by the lapels of his coat--you have to admit, it fits him well, and the leverage it gives you is incredibly handy--and you pull him back to you into a heated kiss. your hands move up from his chest to his face to his hair, and he responds quickly. separation has made you needy for each other, missing the days when stolen kisses were taken for granted. his tongue dives into your mouth and you moan, your hands take in the way his suit fits, appreciative of the snugness of his trousers compared to the baggy overalls.

-your back hits the wagon, his hand pulls up your leg, the other gripping the back of your neck as though he needs you close and can never lose you again. its needy and commanding and you love it. he had never kissed you like this before.

-the shouting and the whistles pull you from your bliss, reminding you of the fact you are in the middle of the street, and you are being incredibly inappropriate.

-he drops your leg quickly, pulling his mouth from yours but still touching his forehead to yours as he looks around, ready to cuss out anyone who dared say anything more. you realize you’ve wrinkled his vest and shirt in your fists.

-you both glance back at each other, still surprised by the turn of events. and then you both laugh, breathlessly, just relieved that maybe things will be okay. his arm is tight around your waist, and he kisses apologies to the side of your face.

-you both know you’re not done talking, but you’ll be damned if you don’t finally have him at your side. then he’s tugging you away from the wagon, keeping you close, staring at you with a dark look in his eyes. your stomach flips at what he says next.

-“come with me, my sunshine. there’s a conversation i need to have with your father.”

[firaknight]

Follow up of Adeleines opinions on the helpers :) (stuff in parenthesis is the ability they have)

Blade Knight (Sword): 7/10 Mysterious little dude:

He’s cool! He’s kinda hard to understand at times (he’s got a thick accent, idk what kind), but he’s very nice! He’s got a lot of standards when it comes to swordsmanship and is very strong! He’s working on showing Adeleine the proper stances for sword fighting (it’s possible for her to emulate that style with her paintbrush, minus the cutting ability of a real sword).

Chilly (Ice): 9/10 Snowed Man!!

Snowed man friend!!!! He’s very serious about things but he’s a good friend! Only problem is he has to stick around Adeleines Ice Dragon drawing to prevent the poor guy from melting (they’re working on finding an eternal ice that won’t melt so he can stay cold!). He likes to make snow cones!!! (Which are hella good btw)

Bio spark (Ninja): 8/10 Speedy!!!

One of the fastest helpers around! They’re speedy, sneaky, and all around a mysterious little dude! They have a habit of showing up so quietly that nobody notices for a good couple minutes before they’re just like “I wasn’t even hiding I’ve been standing here this whole time.” Overall, odd but kind little friend!

Birdon (Wing): 7/10 Soft birdie!!!

They’re just a little birdie!!! Birdons probably the most carefree helper out of the bunch, and they like relaxing really high up (much to Adeleines dismay). They tend to make stuff out of the feathers they shed (and they shed very often), so they’re always giving friends bracelets, headgear, jewelry, and such made out of their feathers. Adeleine actually has a coat lined with their feathers and it’s SUPER warm! They’re a little strange (and Kawasaki keeps trying to cook them [see: Star Allies title screen skits]) but they’re a wonderful buddy!

Wester (Whip): 9/10 Yeehaw man!!!!

Dude is legit just a very small cowboy. He cannot help his smallness... He’s agile and absolutely has an accent when he talks. He’s a little chaotic, but has a good heart. Probably taught Adeleine how to mount and ride a grizzo just for fun. She’s got a cowboy hat he made for her!

Plugg (Plasma): 10/10 Old friend!

She’s known Plugg since Crystal Shards! The two are good friends and Plugg likes to paint with her! He’s got some... interesting ways of painting (sticking his entire face into paint and then running facedown on the canvas), but he’s a lovely friend! He likes to run around a lot tho, probably because he’s constantly generating electricity and needs to burn it off so it doesn’t overload him. Will absolutely charge electrical devices without a second thought.

Como (Spider): 6/10 Spider...

While they’re similar to Taranza, they have a lot more spider tendencies, and therefore kinda scared Adeleine. She’s tolerable of them (more so than Susie), but tries to keep her distance. They’re helpful and are very very very sweet!!! They just tend to do creepy spider things and it freaks her out...

Bugzzy (Suplex): 7/10 Massive bug dude

He’s like... huge. Closer to, if not taller, than Adeleines height. He has very sharp pincers on the front of his face, and they can be painful when used, so he either wraps them in bandaging or puts rubber caps over them! That way he can grab and hold friends without harm! He’s oddly cuddly and likes to carry people around (not neccisarily throwing them) in his pincers. Overall, big doofus bug who has lots of love.

Broom Hatter (Clean): 8/10 Clean freak

Literally cannot handle dirty shit. At all. Has the urge to clean everything. Perks are that they keep the base everyone hangs out in super duper clean! Adeleines taught them to draw and it helps them not want to compulsively clean everything. They make really pretty art!

Poppy Bros Jr. (Bomb): 9/10 Funky lad!

He’s got an older brother of the same name (Poppy Bros Sr.) and he’s a boss in training! One day he hopes to be just as good as his brother! Dude is ultra high energy (which is why he’s always hopping around) and tends to be a little obnoxious. They can’t entirely help it, they’re just energetic! They’ve taught Adeleine how to yeet explosives and she’s genuinely good at it!

Rocky (Stone): 7/10 He is literally just a rock

Sentient rock! He’s a little slow and can’t really talk, but he’s a buddy! He likes to just turn into his stone form and just sit like that. It’s comfy and feels like home to him. Will not hesitate to use himself as a step or a seat for someone if needed. He also gives everyone hes friends with a special rock! Adeleines has marbling to it and looks absolutely beautiful!

Waddle Doo (Beam): 8/10 Funky little man!

He’s got only one eye and therefore has poor eyesight. You’d think one eye would be better, but nope! He wears essentially one huge contact lens to help! They’re buddies with Parasol Dee and Bandee!!! Doo is on the calmer side of the group, and tends to not be so insanely high strung. He’s still a little anxious, but he’s better at covering it than the other. He hangs out with Wester sometimes (whip-like attack squad)

Chef Kawasaki (Cook): 2/10 Hes creepy and I don’t like him.

He has this weird... unsettling energy about him. He’s tried to cook both Coo and Birdon more than once and she genuinely doesn’t like being around him. He makes good food, which has stopped him from being a 0/10 in her book, but thats it. He’s only there because Kirby thought he’d be a nice addition and everyone knows that if Kawasaki crosses the line he will get booted on the spot. (Kirby has standards too!)

Gim (Yo-yo): 7/10 Hes just a robot huh.

He’s kinda strange, and doesn’t appear to have a lot of feeling, but Gims really nice! He likes to show people all the tricks he can do with his yo-yo (which is surprisingly a lot) and gives all his friends a yo-to so they can do the tricks along with him (Adeleines is teal with red and black stripes. It’s also got a couple paint splotches on it that we’re added on purpose).

Burning Leo (Fire): 8/10 Toasty heater child!

They’re small and warm!!! All the time!!! They like to be held and snuggle up to cold stuff because it’s the same feeling as snuggling up to warm stuff for humans. REEEEAAALLLYYY wants to hug Chilly but there is the very real possibility that Chilly will literally melt so he holds off from that. Adeleine tends to be cold and likes to hold Leo like a hot water bottle. He’s learned how to make his head fire harmless so people can hold him and not get burned!!

Driblee (Water): 9/10 Oh my god they’re adorable!

Sothisispartiallyjustmebecauseilovethewaterabilityimsorry They’re a little lizard mermaid! They adore swimming more than you’d think and hold pool parties!! They hang around Chilly because their water tends to be on the colder side and Chilly can use them to reform melted bits of Adeleine can’t get Ice Dragon to do it. They’re actually made entirely out of water! They can literally transform back into water by going into water. This also means that they can conform to spaces not meant for them like bottles and containers. They like to make drinks for people since the water they use for attacking is some of the cleanest water out there! (It also tastes super fucking good)

Bonkers (Hammer): 7/10 Kinda scary...

He’s big, taller than Adeleine (especially if he stands fully upright), and has an intimidating look, but he’s all bark and no bite! Dude is literally just a ball of sunshine! He likes to carry people around and will 100% shield someone from attacks (he’s sturdy!!!). He’s helping Adeleine with her strength because she’s fragile and a little scrawny and he’s all muscle (shes gotten a lot better!). Shes got her own lightweight hammer he lets her use so she can get a little stronger!

Sir Kibble (Cutter): 9/10 Smol knight!

He cannot help his size... but he’s tough! He also has no fucking braincells and does not think but he’s a good boy! He likes to headbutt people but his helmet poses a problem (it literally has a blade attached to it) so he puts a padded pool noodle over it to protect others (the padding is so the noodle doesn’t get chopped from the blade itself when force is applied). He’s just a little dude with no thoughts... head empy...

NESP (ESP): 4/10 They talk too much and know stuff about me that I never told them.

Strange and not very cool :( They have a tendency to read other people’s minds because they purposefully don’t tune their thoughts out and therefore know a lot of stuff they really shouldn’t. They also don’t know how to keep their mouth shut. Thankfully they’re just funky from psychic power and on a good day they’re kinda nice to be around!

Vividria (Artist): 10/10 THATS MY ADOPTED SISTER!!

They’re siblings. Drawcia adopted Adeleine as one of her own and that makes Vividria her sis! They paint together and Vividria kinda sticks up for Adeleine in more dicey fights because of Adeleines low HP. They’re the bestest of friends and are super cool with one another! She’s still growing and is one day gonna reach Drawcias size!! (If we put it into normal heights [Adeleine being 5’3” and Kirby being 1’8”] Drawcia is over double Kirby’s height. Probably closer to 3-4 feet)

Parasol Waddle Dee (Parasol): 9/10 Oh my god they’re just a smol friend...

Dee is literally almost as high strung and anxious as Bandee but they’re so sweet!! They like rain!! They also give parasols to all their friends! (Adeleines is teal with paint splotches!) They tend to nap a lot and will totally join cuddle piles. On hot days they’ll utilize the chumbrella as a big shade for everyone in the nap pile. Just a squishy little dee!!!!!

Knuckle Joe (Fighter): 10/10 Hes super supportive and nice!

He saw how fragile Adeleine was and said “aight so I may not be a master but I’m gonna teach this kid how to fight” and didn’t wait for any objections. Once a week he goes out into the forest with Adeleine and shows her how to fight like him! Physical combat is important!!! She can’t fire off energy blasts or deal lightning speed punches, but she’s getting there! He’s ultra supportive of everyone and loved to teach people stuff!!! He care about everyone!!!!

Beetley (Beetle): 8/10 Why is he so angy!!

Always grumpy. He says it’s because he keeps losing to Bugzzy but it’s just because he’s super small and gets picked up like a burger all the time (if you didn’t wanna be held like a burger don’t be burger shaped idiot). Isn’t aggressive but will headbutt people with the blunt end of his horn when he’s being extra grouchy. Adeleine likes picking him up because he gets all stiff like a ferret (when you pick them up and they stick their feet’s up all stiff).

Jammerjab (Staff): 9/10 Funky but fun!

Was originally really wary of them because of the whole Void Termina thing and their assosciation with the bad guys wasn’t a good thing but they’re super cool! They’re graceful and like to stand on their staff a lot. They also help the smaller helpers get stuff up high (they themselves are small but their staff can extend a lot so they can use that for extra height). They let Adeleine use their staff and she’s not that good at it (she always whacks herself in the face while trying to use it) but it’s a nice gesture! They know a lot about the Jambastion and like to tell people all the wacky secrets it holds (like how Hyness has an entire room full of just robes that all look the exact fucking same or how theres a specific set of hallways that move and change to get trespassers lost in them). Honestly a fun little guy to be around

[ghostdummieideas]

A Grave Mistake 2/?

Part 2 to the Goore series. Thank you Raine and Birdy for Beta reading this chapter!

When you woke up the next morning, you thought the whole cemetery fiasco was a nightmare. Just a silly dream that your brain created to show your anxiety for the recent job. Your eyes scanned to the electric alarm clock on your nightstand: 8:45 AM. First, you need to get a cup of coffee in your system. Second of all, you need to get your reading assignment done today. With a stretch across the bed, you stand up to start your day.  As you stride across the hall, your eyes land on something crumpled in a dirty heap by the entrance of the apartment.

The conquest for coffee was pushed aside as you approached the foreign object. You crouched down and picked up what looked to be a ratty old coat with faded lettering on the back. The remnant of letters read, ‘Woodland Cemetery’. The cemetery. Last night wasn’t a dream. You ran before you finished your first shift.

The thought of the consequences for doing so sent a shiver down your back. In the midst of the chase, the security office never crossed your mind as an option for a sanctuary. Jacket in hand, you scramble through the flat to find your phone. You had two notifications: one missed call and one voicemail, both from your boss. Knowing that you can’t hide from your mistake forever, you have to do the right thing. Gritting your teeth, you unlock the screen to listen to the voicemail.

The old man’s voice crackled on the speaker, “Hey kid, we need to talk. Call me when you’re available”. 

You bopped your phone against your forehead and whined in dismay. “I fucked up. I fucked up, and he’s going to say I’m fired.”

Taking a couple of concentrated breaths, you press ‘call back’, and place the phone against your ear. You hoped the old man would be asleep or busy doing whatever he does in his free time. Your silent prayers were ignored as you heard the familiar blip of the phone being answered. “Hello? Who is this?” your boss’s garbled voice came through.

“Hi boss. I’m so sorry about last night’s shift. I can explain!” Feeling your throat tighten from nervousness, you take a deep breath. When you were ready to explain the corpse man, you stopped. You can’t say that, you’d sound like a lunatic. ‘I ran into this bloody man and he chased me during my shift’ would sound like a sorry excuse that a teenager would use to explain why their homework is missing. “A racoon frightened me and the office didn’t cross my mind when I was running. I’m so sorry.”

The line was silent for a second before a sigh broke the silence. “I saw you running in the camera feed. Look, don’t run off during your shift again. Do you plan on going tonight?”

The question left you stunned. Do you want to come back to the cemetery? He’s not going to fire you for running off. Before you can think, you answered, “Yes, I’ll come to tonight’s shift. Do I come at the same time as yesterday?”

“Yes, same time, same place. See you then. Get some sleep kid. Bye.”

The line dies as your boss hangs up. Your shoulders drop, the death grip on the jacket in your hand loosens. You still have a job. Great. You might run into a corpse man again. Not so great. You walk over to the kitchen, take a seat, and slouch over the table. You’re going to need more than a pot of coffee today.

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

When your shift rolled around, you walked back to the small trailer in the far right of the field. You pressed the doorbell to alert your boss of your arrival. With a buzz, the door unlocked to let you in. You step into the office and close the door quietly behind you. 

“Hi boss”, you greeted the old man. This time the cue-ball had an aged ball cap on his head. He was also wearing a similar jacket to your own. The rolling chair squeaked as your boss scooted from his desk and stood up. He gave you an indifferent look before he adjusted the cap. “We have a camera knocked on the far back of the place. Some kids knocked them off this morning. Your coworker was able to fix most of the cameras, but we got two more to replace.”

You watched your boss pick up two walkie talkies from the left of the computer monitor. As he shuffled across the room, he stuffed one into his pocket and handed you the spare. "Thanks," you muttered out of politeness before you took the device and stuffed it into your empty pocket. He then walked over to the table next to the door to grab the boxes piled on top. He reached in and grabbed two orange-colored boxes, handing you one of them. Examining the box, you noticed a logo with the word ‘security camera’ printed on the side. 

“We’re going to need a couple items from the storage shed. We’ll need a ladder, screwdriver, and… you still have the flashlight, right?” 

 You fished around in your pockets before you found it, pulling the item out to show him. He nods in approval. Grabbing the massive piles of keys from the lockbox, both of you tread through the grass to the shed. Breaking the silence, you addressed the elephant in the room. 

“Thank you for giving me another chance, boss.” 

Both of you stopped in front of the wooden building with a pad lock blocking the latch. As your boss searched for the right key, he addressed your statement.

“It’s fine, kid,” he sighed. “People usually have a fight-or-flight response and you did what you had to do to stay safe. We commonly associate cemeteries with awful stuff, so I’m not mad at you for running away.”

He unlocked and opened the door to the shed. Without looking back, he clicked the light switch to illuminate the interior. Stuffing his keys in his pocket, he strutted into the building and plucked the materials for the job.

“From your background check, you seem like the type to work hard. You’re not the type to run off and party like some college kids. You have a goal in mind and you’re using whatever is in your arson and you are doing the best you can. It’s hard to find good youngsters like you.” 

This left you at a loss for words. Your impression of your boss differed from your first meeting. The bitter old man, who was courteous enough to leave trash bags in your pocket to make your job easier, now complemented you verbally. A complement you shouldn’t be receiving after last night’s stunt.

After he had gathered everything he needed, your boss stepped out of the shed and locked it behind him. “Take a tool box and ladder for yourself, kid. If anything goes wrong or a vermin chases you off again, you can call me.”

You nodded in agreement, “Yes boss”. 

Tucking the security camera under your arm, you picked up the small ladder and tool box. After confirming where you needed to go, both of you went on your separate ways to fix the damaged property. Lugging the items to the location was one thing, the remains of the previous camera was a bigger problem. Whoever the kids were, they did a magnificent job at smashing the camera from this angle. They knocked it off from the adjustable base that connected to the wall of the building. The smashed camera barely hung from the cable that was tacked to the roof. With a sigh, you put the items down on the ground, picking up the ladder and setting it in place. You reached into your pocket and put the flashlight in place. Turning it on, you rummaged into the toolbox to find a screwdriver. Once successful, you opened up the box to unravel the packaging from the new camera.

Cradling the new camera in the crook of your arm, you climb up the ladder and get to work. Taking the old camera down from the cable wasn’t that bad. Unscrewing the base proved to be a slight problem as one hole was bent from whatever impact it received. An hour later, the new camera was in place and the smashed pieces were sprawled across the grass. 

Once you got down from the ladder you rolled your shoulders to release the tension on your neck. At least that was a pleasant change from being nose deep into your books this morning. Reaching into your pocket, you produced your walkie talkie. Pressing the button on the side, you asked, “Boss ya there?” You waited two seconds before the block crackled back. 

“Yea? You done there?” your boss’s garbled voice reverberated back.

“Yes, I’m done setting up the new camera. I’m going to take a ten here before heading back to the supply shed.”

“I’m in the office. No vermin?”

You briefly paused. Was this a small joke or a genuine concern? “No boss, not a single vermin in sight so far.”

“10-4” he mumbled before the line went silent again. 

Speaking of vermin, you haven’t seen that guy again. A shiver ran down your back at the memory of the zombie. You don’t want to see him again. Not on this shift, not in the future either. 

Stuffing the black brick into your pocket, you took a minor break before you headed back to the shed. Sitting down on the second step of the ladder, you let out a sigh of relief. You tilted your head, rolling your muscles and looking up at the night sky.

The clouds covered the sky, not a single star appeared amongst the sea of gray fluff. Deep down you wished you could see a sliver of the moon or stars. You felt tranquil when you could see them in the night sky. No matter which town you were in, someone from across the country would see the same orb burning in the dark. It was nice to know you weren’t the only one looking up at the same atmosphere. It made you feel less lonely in a time like this.

 A crunch pulls you out of your thoughts. You looked behind to see the last person you wanted to see tonight: The goddamn corpse boy. He had his back towards you, and you immediately went into flight mode, your body flinging itself from your resting spot. The quick movement caused the ladder to topple over and crash into the soft ground.

The man stopped to turn his attention to you. From his hunched position, your flashlight illuminated his face. Fresh blood smeared down from his forehead. Gray paint contoured his cheek and eyes in an unflattering manner. Instead of accentuating his features, it made him look more gaunt. From afar his eyes looked dark and lifeless, devoid of any color. From this distance you couldn’t tell if it was drool coming down his chin, but something other than blood was running down his face.

The man straightened, wiping the spit-like substance off his chin with the back of his hand. You barely noticed his change in stance because all of your attention was focused on the pocket knife held in his bloody hand. With no time to lose, you made a mad dash towards the office.

“NO NO NO NO NO”, you shouted in your desperation to get to the sanctuary. The night was going so peacefully. Why did he have to ruin it? How the hell did he even get a knife? Was he buried with it? Whatever the answer was, you weren't sticking around to find out. 

To not bash yourself into the office door, you use your hands to reduce the impact against your body. You banged on the door, “Boss, let me in! Hurry!” You kept frantically twisting the doorknob, wanting to get in the second it unlocked. 

Once the door opened, you quickly slid inside and shut the door. Chest heaving from the activity, you pressed yourself against the only entrance to the trailer office. Your boss gave you a look of concern as he slightly rolled to the side in his chair.

“Vermin?” he asked questionably. 

“No, there’s a man covered in blood in the cemetery. He has a knife with him so I came running down here” you huffed. 

Your boss cocked his brow, but you could tell from the look in his eye, he didn’t doubt you. He turned back to the monitor and checked the surveillance screen for the guy you described. “The camera you set up is live.. I don’t see anyone there..” he muttered into the hand that propped his chin. You strode over to the side of your boss to examine the screen. Just like he said, the zombie man was nowhere to be found. Deep down, you felt your frustration rise from within you. 

“I’m going to lose my shit because of this zombie fucker,” you groaned under your breath. 

Extra

Mary stood there as he watched the grave worker from the night before scream and run away. His face scrunched in disgust at their rude reaction. “I guess they don’t want a slice,” he shrugged. Knife in hand, he carved another slice of apple and brought the piece to his mouth. Savoring the flavor, he stopped to see the crimson liquid staining the hand holding the knife in red. That’s when he realized, “Ah fuck, I guess that’s why they ran...I guess I should find them and talk with them like an adult.” He paused for a minute before he cackled. “Yeah, as if I can even hold a civil conversation with someone who runs as soon as they see me,” he groaned. With a roll of his eyes, he walked deeper into the cemetery. When he spotted the human-sized dent in the iron fence, he stuffed the remains of the fruit in his mouth and crawled through, exiting the area designated for the dead.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {6}

Summary: Knowing the truth, Y/N wants to force Ethan to confess and in her attempt to prank him into doing it, she realizes the joke’s on her.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, talk of depression and anxiety

Word count: 4700+

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are, Isak Danielson - Love me Wrong, Dove Cameron - Remember me, Tom Odell - Can’t pretend, The XX - Angels, Coldplay - Fix you, Coldplay - The scientist, Elvis Presley - Can’t help falling in love.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Eccendentesiast (n.) - someone who hides pain behind a smile

Finding out something that absolutely goes against all you believe in isn’t quite something Y/N expected to happen once she woke up in the place she felt safest in all her existence – Ethan’s bed. She had never thought that something so earth-shattering, so unbelievably life-changing could be hiding in that brain of his she adored so much and while she felt the urge to scream at him, to throw a tantrum, even contemplated burning his damn apartment to the ground, she just sighed instead. There was no fight, no defiance left in her – yet she embarked on a journey, passing the stages of grief within minutes.

First came denial. Her shaky hand covers her mouth to stifle a whimper aching to escape her quivering lips, her breath shallow as she tries to understand. It wasn’t possible, right? She would have known if he were the one, right? Being around him all that time and not knowing? She didn’t know if that was ever recorded or if she is just the worst in detecting the man who is meant to be her soulmate. After all the time they’ve spent together, why would he keep quiet on such an important subject? Why would he have ever lied to her? Well, he didn’t necessarily lie, but he did omit a pretty big truth.

“Will you ever tell me about her?” Her voice is quiet, small, meek. She doesn’t really want to know, or ever hear him talk love with someone other than herself, but that tiny bit of silver in his hair haunts her more than she anticipated.

Ethan wets his lips, the corners of those soft plush rosy colored cushions she craved every minute of every time twitch and she can’t help her stare, nor the odd fixation she has with them. She had never met a human being with lips as perfect as his and she never thought there would ever be a pair of lips she’d be addicted to as much as she is to his. They’re a drug – he is a drug, but he’s the drug she chose and she couldn’t and wouldn’t rehab from.

“Do you want to do a heart transplant with me today?” And typically, in Ethan fashion, Y/N received no answer, however, the way he shifted her attention to anything but her question was effective and she quickly forgot about it altogether. 

At least for the day.

Then came anger. How many times did she ask him about his soulmate and he just bribed her into forgetting it? How many times did he have her right in the palm of his hand and he completely disregarded her or her wish to know? Or how about the fact that he knows exactly where she stands on the soulmate connections and he chose to hide it from her? Did he know from the start? Did he know it that night in the bar when she was just a wreck looking to lose the soulmate she happened to stumble upon? She wanted to find a way to wreck that love before it ever began and he was there? He must have seen the silver in her hair appear right before his eyes and yet he continued to flirt like nothing was wrong at all? Why? Why is he so cruel and selfish? Why couldn’t he just tell her the truth? Instead, he got into her bed and her heart and mind and she can’t deny that he’s there to stay. Now she understood his reasoning about pulling out and using condoms…he was afraid she’d get pregnant, not because they might get an STD.

“Fucking asshole.” She mutters under her breath as her eyes focus on her hands in her lap, her head throbbing as she glances back at the door, realizing they must have wised up and went to talk somewhere she can’t hear their lies become truths.

“You really want to use a condom? Don’t guys usually convince girls otherwise?” She rolls her eyes, wishing he would drop the ridiculous request yet all he does is pull his boxers up, much to her dismay.

“I’m not going to risk our health for a momentary pleasure. Y/N, we’re not exclusive and that’s something I’d love to change, but unless you do too, I’m not going in raw anymore.” Emotional blackmail, that’s how she saw it at the time – an ultimatum where he used her horny needs for his own use and while she wasn’t about to completely fall for it, she groaned and parted her thighs to give him a view he would build a shrine to if it didn’t make him feel like a total creep.

“I’m not ready for that. But if it means so much to you, put the condom on and get to work because a certain Grant had stressed me the fuck out and I need to get it out of my system.”

Third came bargaining. Finding excuses for him is incredibly easy for her, trying to make his actions justifiable. After all, didn’t she tell him she wouldn’t be with her soulmate? Didn’t she make it clear she wasn’t interested in ever going down that road after her parents showed her all the wicked ways that bond can work against you? Maybe he was just scared of losing her? Maybe he’s still scared she’d walk away and leave what they’ve built from ground up? But how could he think that after all they’ve been through? After she opened up to him, laid her soul bare? After she resorted to acting as his girlfriend without the official label? She did that to make him happy – everything she did was somehow connected to a smile she hoped to see.

“Look what I got you!” She tosses a surgical cap his way, too fast and off target and with no previous warning so much so he barely grabbed it as it fell toward the ground. Hospital floors may be clean, but they’re not that clean.

“What the? Turtles?” Ethan’s voice went higher as he questioned her choice, even more so when he saw her giggle as if she cracked some major code to his personality and while he found himself confused, he couldn’t help but chuckle to appease her. He could never not smile when she laughs.

“I heard Grayson call you turtleman and I found this the other day and you popped in my mind. You’re the only surgeon I know who doesn’t have his on-brand cap. Thought I’d fix it.” And with that victorious smirk of hers, she left him smiling like an idiot. He never liked customized caps, never wanted one, but she changed that in an instant. Even if it’s silly, he would wear it if it made her happy. Always.

But when depression settled in, she was defeated. There was no way around a fundamental concern that hounded her brain. What if Ethan only loves her because he knows she’s his soulmate? What if all of it was a lie? Their love felt like a cosmic joke now, something that rose bile in her throat and she couldn’t help but question his feelings for her. She loved him for him, but did he love her for her or the promise of true love? Is that what this was about? Could she have avoided him? If she locked the world away, would she have managed to escape this unrelenting pain inside her chest with the thought of Ethan’s feelings being fabricated? She always believed you should be your own planet, high up in space, but rooted in yourself. Then he came and anchored her and she never wanted anything more than him.

“Do you ever think about a world where soulmates are just a concept? Like, no one wrote your story, you get to choose it yourself?” She wondered out loud, staring up at the moon as Ethan’s arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back into his embrace, their breaths synchronizing as he dipped his head in the crook of her neck and his lips placed a feather-light kiss upon her collarbone.

“No. I feel like we still have a choice in everything. You could escape your soulmate, or you could seek them out. You choose if you want to be romantic, friendly, or nothing at all. It’s not so bad, even if you find yourself addicted. What’s so wrong about loving someone that is made for you?” His low tone had given her chills, his beating heart made her heart still. The effect he has is unparalleled with anything she had ever experienced and he was only holding her. Why would she want anything more than him?

“In that case, I’m always finding myself addicted to wrong things.” She heard him hum in curiosity, his lips ghosting over her shoulder before leaving a quick peck that made her smile fondly, widely enough to wonder if she ever smiled as much before meeting him.

“You, for instance.” Turning her head to the side, her eyes find his as quickly as his lips find hers. There was never a need for words between them, their eyes and actions spoke volumes instead.

In the end, she faced acceptance. Ethan lied, hid things, manipulated her, but she understood why. She had ruined every chance he had to be honest and while she’s still cross with him for doing it, mostly because she could have been knocked up in her intern year, Y/N accepted he did it for both of them. It couldn’t have been easy to keep it a secret and it must have eaten away at him daily, but if he didn’t, she’d never know what it means to love a person so fully that your heart swells just by thinking of them. She’d never know what it’s like to daydream about a future she didn’t think she’d have and she would never have stuck around long enough to see what they could become. It would have been a shame to miss out on Ethan and the way he had turned her world upside down. This would be a big issue for her to get over, that’s for sure, but if the tree falls at the first gust of wind, the roots were never deep to begin with and their roots were really fucking deep.

Alexithymia (n.) - the inability to express your feelings

When she mouthed a faint ‘I love you’ to Ethan, she didn’t know if she would ever see him again. She had a madman holding a gun at the back of her neck, time just wasn’t on her side. It never was. But that’s when she realized she had more than enough chances to tell him how she felt and she always hid behind her pain instead of giving him her all. She did give ninety nine percent, but that last percent she held onto out of pure fear.

She wished she had a second chance to do it all over again – to go all in from start to finish, to tell him she loves him more than words could ever explain, that she loves him to the moon and back, that she will never stop loving him, even if the world stops spinning ‘round. She wanted to grow old with him, just him. She wanted him every day, all the time, for him to know that while she used to think love is nothing but chemistry, essentially a lie, he showed her she was wrong and she was never happier to be wrong in her life.

That’s when she realized that she used to see beauty in the world as a child, but then she learned the truth. Nothing ever lasts. This world is suffering until you’re dead and while she used to wonder why she was taking all that pain, why she bothered to wake up every day, she knew now. Her entire life had boiled down to the moment she would meet this man.

Her only regret is that she didn’t tell him she loves him enough, that the words would die with her and he deserved so much better.

And she’s still angry, vengeful even. But she can’t deny one abundantly clear fact – she loves Ethan Grant Dolan and even if he’s a lying douchebag, he’s her lying douchebag. Maybe she would forgive him eventually, but for now, she just wanted him to tell her the truth. However, instead of facing him while laying indisputable proof before him, she crafted a plan of her own.

Clearing her throat, she stood up and decided to find him and his equally treacherous brother. It didn’t take her long, because as soon as she walked into the living room, she found the pair talking in hushed voices. Grayson notices her first, slapping Ethan’s shoulder to shut up and they looked exactly like she imagined one would look if they were guilty.

“How did I get here?” She rubbed the back of her head, noticing it really is sore, likely from the fall she took earlier. Ethan didn’t blink as he rushed toward her, his big brown eyes checking her over as his hands felt drawn to her, resting on her hips to keep her steady.

“How are you?” The concern in his voice is palpable, enough for her to let a real smile slip past her.

“Confused. A bit sore. What the hell happened?” She chuckled at the continuous touches Ethan had issued as if his hands have healing abilities and would make everything stop aching. Maybe they were healing to some degree, but this isn’t something he could have fixed.

“The SWAT team got him. The girl was his daughter and he chased her and her mother halfway across the world. Abusive fuck got what he deserved.” Grayson fills her in and while she would usually be shocked by his foul language, she couldn’t really look at him the same knowing he too had lied to her. Sure, it wasn’t his secret to tell and looking back at it Grayson did drop massive hints for her to pick up on, but damn it, she thought they were closer than that.

“Good.” Swallowing thickly, she raises her hands slowly, allowing her palms to rest on Ethan’s cheeks, just noticing how pale he is. And she’s pissed at him, but she can’t help the pang of worry that makes her soften her gaze.

“I’m fine. I’m a little nauseous, but I’m fine.” She reassures him, her voice never quite as gentle as in that moment and Ethan’s lips quickly stretch into a smile she longed for - a smile she never thought she’d see again.

“I know. I’m just having a hard time dealing with today.” Shrugging, Ethan forces a smile before letting out a heavy sigh. “I really thought I’d lose you today and while I fucking admire you for being so brave, I really wish you’d fucking stop being so fearless and fierce. One day, it will get you killed and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for the pain of losing you that would annihilate me.”

Grayson took it as a cue to leave, offering a tiny wave as goodbye and “Glad you’re safe” before escaping the situation he saw as a possible fight.

But he was wrong. Instead of arguing, Y/N wrapped her arms around Ethan as tightly as possible. There was no escape, he was right. She tends to undervalue her life and offer it up whenever she deems it could save someone else. When she was a kid, she had done it when she offered her morphine to her dying friends, or when she had tackled a robber as a teenager or now, when she basically told a shooter to take her as a hostage for a child. She didn’t want Ethan to feel the loss that drove her mother to suicide, not ever. After years of wanting death, Y/N found herself wishing for a long life.

“I won’t do that again. I promise.”

A night in bed where they held each other for dear life was enough for the pair to find a way to breathe again. However, Y/N still wanted to exact her plan instead of just talking to her soulmate and expressing her feelings. It would start that morning.

Jumping from the bed, she rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Ethan jumped right after her, startled by her sudden urgency, only to find her slamming the door in his face. But when he heard the unmistakable sound of her puking her guts out, his fists connected with the door with force enough for her to realize she has to calm him down.

“Open the door!” He insisted as the sound of her throwing up stopped and silence ensued.

“I don’t want you to see me this way! Plus, I’m fine. Probably just the stress.” She lied through her teeth, smiling on the other side of the door after her performance and while she knew it was cruel, so was his choice to lie to her since the night they met, way before she was his intern.

“I don’t care if you’re drenched in puke, I want to see you.” He exclaimed and she rolled her eyes. It’s sweet, but she can’t let him in because there was no residue smell of vomit and she needed it to be believable.

“I will let you in after I shower.”

And while he had waited in front of the door like a lost puppy, she showered and painted a small smile for him to see when the door opened again.

His arms wrapped around her instantly, the warmth of his touch making her melt and a little guilty for making him worry at all, yet she didn’t give up on her plan.

“I’m fine. I’ll make us breakfast.” Pecking his cheek, she tapped it lightly before getting dressed and doing just as she promised. That’s when she implemented part two of her plan.

“Why are you opening all the windows and why the hell are you holding a wet wipe to your nose?” Ethan found himself even more concerned when he found the very appealing eggs prepared on the kitchen island and his very beautiful soulmate running around wildly as she opened every window in sight.

“I don’t know, they smell so bad. I think the eggs went bad!” Shaking her head in disgust, she furrows her eyebrows as her eyes meet his and the odd frown on his face.

“They smell delicious.” But the moment he sat down, she rushed back into the bathroom, once again locking the door and pretending to throw up while Ethan is left on the other side for the second time that morning.

She washed her mouth away with mouthwash to have a reason for fresh breath instead of the sour smell vomit would cause, only to let him in this time. The open window above the toilet seemed to be a believable reason for the lack of vomit smells and she was ready to put her slightly shaken mask back on.

“You need to see a doctor. This isn’t just stress.” Ethan spoke, his hands running up and down her back as he massaged her gently to relieve whatever stress residue she may have.

“I am a doctor and I know my body, Grant. I’m fine and I want to work. It’s probably nothing, okay?” She leans into him, wondering if the pounding of his heart that is echoing in her ears right now truly worth her revenge.

It didn’t take long for Ethan to find Grayson once they came to the hospital. He left Y/N in the plastic surgery ward, unhappy with how pale she seems and even worse, how shaken up she still feels.

 Who gets back to work just a day after a traumatic experience and even more importantly, who comes into work when they feel under the weather? 

Ethan understands she wants to be a doctor and she doesn’t exactly have an eternity to take her time with it like the other interns, but he didn’t want her to work herself to death either. His idea of their future included a long life for both of them.

“She okay?” Grayson asks as he sips his morning coffee, crumbling the plastic cup in his hand right after he’s finished as he always does.

“I don’t think so, bro. She’s pale, queasy, threw up twice and thought the eggs are rotten even though they smelled and tasted delicious. I think she’s got a stomach bug.” Ethan licks his lips as his fingers thread through his hair, contemplating if sending her home would make her hate him again. He honestly didn’t know how many more fights he could handle.

“You’re kidding, right?” Grayson chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief before leaning toward his brother, his hand landing on his shoulder, firmly clutching him.

“What?” Ethan’s disgruntled groan follows his words, sparking up annoyance as Grayson’s grin widens.

“You’re a doctor and you can’t pick up on basic symptoms of pregnancy? I mean come on!” Tapping his brother’s shoulder, Grayson relents and leans back comfortably as Ethan begins to sweat.

“Fuck, no! I’ve been careful to the point of thinking about wearing two condoms! There’s no fucking way.” Ethan insists in a state of panic Grayson could see a mile away.

“There’s no such thing as safe sex with a soulmate and you know it. Dude, you’re a dead man walking.” Grayson didn’t mean to chuckle, very much aware how fucked up this situation is, but he also spend a better part of a century studying pregnancy, he knew the symptoms like the back of his hand.

“If she’s pregnant, she’s gonna know we’re soulmates and that’s not something she should find out like that! I was gonna tell her soon, on my terms. She should have had a choice in when she wants to get pregnant! She’s gonna hate me forever.” Ethan could feel his mind slipping into madness of his own creation, shaking as his mouth runs dry and he can’t even string two sentences right

“Hey.” But then she shows up in the worst possible moment and she can’t help but notice the way Ethan paled once she walks in, making her wonder just how fast did he connect the dots. He’s clearly freaking out and she’s assuming he’s doing so because of all the hints she dropped during the morning.

“I just wanted to ask Grayson for a consult.” She feigns innocence as she walks closer to Ethan, placing her hand on his back.

“Sure, just, uh…Would you mind if I ask you something for uh….study I’m doing?” Everything he had said came with a stutter, but Grayson figured he could be inconspicuous and get some solid information on which his brother could form his next steps.

“Shoot.” Y/N cringes at her choice words, it was too soon for her to joke on what had nearly taken her life just the day before but she spoke before thinking and it was too late to take it back and neither of the twins said a word anyway.

“Are your periods regular?”

Frowning, Y/N noted the pink hue on Grayson’s cheeks, loving just how uncomfortable he feels and even more the death glare Ethan sent his way. It was pure comedy watching them sweat after they’ve played with her head for so long.

“Yeah.”

“And when was your last period?” Grayson managed to say without losing his shit, feeling as if he too would hyperventilate the longer Y/N kept quiet, mulling it over longer than she should have but they were changing shades of red right before her eyes as she widens her eyes as if she too had realized something is amiss.

“I need to go.” She had never left the room faster, making Ethan’s heart drop and there was no returning from this. Looking back at the door, Ethan imagined a Y/N shaped hole in the door, aware he’s fucked for life.

“She’s late and I’m pretty sure she just figured that out. So congratulations, bro, we’re about to have a mini Dolan with us.”

Ethan wasn’t himself that day. He had walked around the halls half dead as dread gripped him. He must have changed his clothes at least five times during his eight hour shift, each time because he sweat through the scrubs – courtesy of anxiety and a crippling fear of losing Y/N. 

How could he be so irresponsible and keep the truth hidden for so long?

At the time, he had justified it with the possibility of her leaving him in the dust, but he had no right to keep it a secret for this long. She deserved to know when they started being intimate and no matter what excuse crosses his mind, there’s nothing he can tell her to issue forgiveness once she finds out.

When he got home, he found her shoes at the door, tossed as if she was in a hurry. Surprised she had come home earlier than him when she was supposed to do a double shift, Ethan took his jacket off and called out for her.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” No response. Swallowing thickly, Ethan rubs his face before walking into the bedroom, finding a box at the bed and the bathroom door closed with the light shining from under it.

Apprehensive, he moves closer. He wishes he is brave enough to knock on the door and tell her he loves her and that he needs to come clean about something that would impact them both, but he’s frozen as he nears the bed and the label on the box that becomes easier to read the closer he gets. He’s anxious. It comes as an electrical storm in his brain that, quite honestly, is painful. It's different from a headache and it feels the same as intense sorrow, perhaps as a sort of frozen panic with nowhere to go, and he can’t pretend anymore as his eyes finally read what the box says – Home Pregnancy Test.

“You’re home early.” Her voice is void of joy, of anger, of sadness, of emotion. She sounds defeated, exhausted, weak. With a tiny gasp, Ethan turns to see her, noticing her holding the item in question and he can hardly breathe as he takes in the disheveled look she rarely allowed herself to sport. Her mascara is ruined, her lipstick smeared and her eyes have lost their light.

“You, uh…have a pregnancy test?” Ethan could barely talk, words becoming hard to form as he tried to seem unbothered but even she could tell he was losing his shit. There isn’t a man in this world that had treated her right and just as she believed Ethan might be the one, he had reminded her just why she resisted for so long.

“It was supposed to be a joke…a way to make you confess. It’s not funny anymore.” She tossed the test on the carpet in a momentary flash of anger and he didn’t dare look down.

“Confess?” Uttering like he had forgotten how to speak, unable to move an inch, Ethan stared at her and he couldn’t even pinpoint what he feels anymore, much less what she feels.

“I know we’re soulmates. And I was angry. I was so angry at first, but I understood. I just wanted to hear you say it and I was going to make you think I’m pregnant, but I don’t have to make you think anything anymore. When Grayson asked me those questions today, I realized I really am late. Two weeks.” Sniffling, she drags her sleeve under her breath as tears form in her eyes.

“Well, your lies have caught up with us both.” She went silent as he glanced down at the test and found two thick lines have formed. Looking back at her in shock, he felt his soul leave his body and he couldn’t speak, not when he had no excuse for what just went down.

When you hurt a woman you love, most of them can't even look at you, not even turn to you. But what does a man do when the woman he hurt, the woman he loves most in the world, stares right into his soul as he shatters her completely? What can a man do when her teary eyes hold his with such bravery, such complexity as she crumbles and he has to see it happen? When he's the perpetrator and sole witness of her fall? There isn't a single thing in this world that breaks like a heart does, Ethan knew that now for in this silent exchange between their souls, the silence has never been so deafening.

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

Tags: @beinscorpio​​​ @peacedolantwins​​​ @heyits-claire​​​ @dolandolll​​​ @godlydolans​​​ @dolanstwintuesday​​​ @ethanhes​​​ @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12​​​  @zeusgrayson​​​ @libradolan​​​ @justordinaryjen​​​ @pineappledolan​​​ @graysavant​​​ @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan​​​  @shadowsndaisies​​​ @maybgrayson​​​​ @dolans4lyfe​​​​ @mendesficsxbombay​​​​ @fxkthatdairy @sharpdolan​​

Anyone crossed out wasn’t able to be tagged, probably an issue on Tumblr’s side, sorry.

[onewfantaesy]

In super bats au, there’s actually a fair few villains who flat out just won’t harm Robin. At least, not while he’s a cute little kid. So those first few years, there’s almost an unspoken rule amongst the evil elite of Gotham that you can’t touch the baby bird. You can do whatever you want to the big bad bat, and you can tie Robin up and make him watch, but you can’t physically hurt him. Not on purpose.

So when Taemin gets knicked by one of Poison Ivy’s plants and his little arm starts turning a nasty red and burning and aching and Minho is still busy fighting off part of it so it doesn’t spread to the rest of Gotham, it’s Poison Ivy herself who tuts and clicks her tongue and tells Taemin about how he needs to be more careful. And Taemin, so confused about why she’s being seemingly nice to him, is backed into a corner with his arm cradled to his chest. And when she holds out a vial, about to tip it out on his burning wound? He screams for Batman and immediately flies over to him.

“It’s the antidote, sweetie,” she tells him, still clicking her tongue at him. “So irresponsible: letting your baby bird get burned.”

Minho doesn’t trust her for a second, and instead wraps his cape around Taemin.

It’s a long fight. Minho gets the plant under control and stops it, but Taemin’s arm is still aching and burning, and he’s close to tears by the end of the fight. Minho knows it would take too long to figure out the antidote himself - at this rate, the poison is spreading too fast.

“Have I ever hurt the baby bird before?” Poison Ivy asks. “It’s the antidote. Really. If you don’t use it soon, his arm will fall off.”

“Batman?” Taemin squeaks, gripping his arm tighter to his chest.

Minho takes the vial, not at all liking how he’s so easily trusting a villain, and gives her his most intimidating glare.

“If this hurts him more,” he warns, “I will kill you.”

“It’s gonna sting, sweetie,” she tells Taemin, ignoring Minho completely.

Minho kneels down in front of Taemin, pulls out something relatively soft from his utility belt - a rope - and holds it up to Taemin’s mouth.

“Bite this,” Minho insists. “And you can squeeze my hand as tight as you need to. On three, okay?”

“Okay,” Taemin says in a shaking voice, and he bites down in the rope and squeezes Minho’s left hand.

“One,” Minho says. “Two.” And he pours the antidote over Taemin’s wound. He’s had to do similar first aid on Taemin enough times to know he flinches away once Minho gets to three. It’s best to surprise him.

Taemin flinches and jumps so high when it touches his skin that he actually flies for a moment. He doesn’t scream, but he whines more than usual and squeezes Minho’s hand harder than he ever has. But the redness immediately subsides from Taemin’s arm. The pain almost immediately goes away. The wound heals up quickly.

It leaves Taemin worn out and exhausted, and he presses himself against Minho’s chest and buries his face in his neck and won’t budge. The rope has since fallen to the floor, the fingers of Minho’s left hand are tingling, and the vial with only a drop left is capped and out in his utility belt to analyze back at the cave.

“The birdie wasn’t supposed to get hurt,” she tells him. “He’s too cute to poison.”

Minho doesn’t respond. He stays in the shadows until the cops show up, and then immediately leaves, Taemin still held close to his chest and hidden beneath his cape.

“Was my arm really gonna fall off?” Taemin asks in a shaking voice back at the cave. Minho has since done a routine check over him, and now they’re both cleaned up and sitting at the computer analyzing the compounds of the antidote.

“I think she was just trying to scare you,” Minho says softly. Then he fixes Taemin’s hair and smiles. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You’ve had a long night.”

“Wanna stay here,” Taemin mumbles, and he presses his face into Minho’s chest.

“You can stay here,” Minho insists, still playing with Taemin’s hair and covering him with a blanket.

Taemin is asleep on Minho’s lap after fifteen minutes.

[skzm7]

MOBEIUS

BEEZLEBUB’S PURPLE KISS

BUBBLED UP TO SCAR

ITCHIN’ WITH SOMEONE’S SIN

FIRED UP IMPLODING FIST

FEELIN’ FEINT K.O.’ED

SCARLET STAMPED CRAZY! KID

USELESS SHADOW BOXING WALL IS NUMB

JAB HOOK UPPERCUT WHO?

THERE’S A HELTER SKELTER IN SKY CITY

COUNTDOWN TIL IT CLICKS KID

YOU GOT A BAD CASE OF 

WACKO BONKERS LOOPY!

TEN NINE EIGHT

HEY SEVEN

HEYSIX 

WAKE UP FIVE 

COME BACK TO EARTH

PUT ON FOUR YOUR 

THINKING CAP THREE AND GLOVES

ROUND 2 FIGHT!

WIPE OFF THAT STICK

GET YOUR BOTTLE OF LIGHTNING

THROW IT TO THE GROUND

CRACK IT OPEN

YOU’RE TOO BRILLIANT TO BE KEPT IN

LET THE LIONS ROAR LOOSE

FILL UP THE STADIUM

THE MAN WITHIN

DOESN’T GET OUT YOUR ILL

BOX THE OLD WOUNDS DREAMING

AND GET REAL

FALLOUT OF MEMORIES

ROOTED TO FEELINGS

CHAINSAW! HAHAHA

I‘M YOUR SECOND COMING!

SLIDE ON MY LIPS

ENJOY LIKE MANY

THE GRAND CHESSBOARD

OF EBONY AND IVORY

IT’S IN YOUR NATURE

TO GIVE YOURSELF IN

I THINK YOUR SMILE 

HAS TOO MANY TEETH 

FOR A SALESMAN

DING DING ROUND

3, MIND IS MESSY

BODY SO ORPHAN THIN

YOU CAN SEE THE HEARTBREAK 

THROUGH THE SKIN

I CAN DO THIS SO WHY AM I TRIPPING?

BANANA SLIP HEAD SPLITTING

BRAIN FREEZE NO ICE CREAM

BUSY B’S SHADOW BECKONS ME DIVE IN

I WRITHE I WRESTLE I CAVE IN

I KNOW BETTER BUT I’M TOO BUSY DYING

NO ONE SEES MY HEAD’S PURPLE FIRE

DROWNING UNDER THE SURFACE

THESE CANNOT BE MY LAST WORDS

THESE CANNOT BE MY LAST!?

THIS CANNOT BE MY LAST CHANCE

THIS CANNOT BE MY LAST

GASP!

ENTER YOUR UTOPIA

THROUGH THIS GLASS OF MIND

KALEIDOSCOPE VISUAL

TAKE THE CLOCK WITH YOU

SIT ON MY LAP GOOD BOY!

SANTA’S LIST IS INSTANT HERE

YOU’RE A NEW BORN PHENOMENON

NO CREDIT CARD HISTORY

NO RESPONSIBILITY

NO RISK IN THIS

LABYRINTH OF VISIONARY

I’LL HOLD YOUR HAND

I’LL BE YOUR CANARY

FORGET BEING A VICTIM OF CONSCIENCE

WHEN RELIVING YOUR PAST IS SO

M MM MMM DEEEELICIOUS!

AND YOUR LOVED ONES ON EARTH

DON’T NEED YOU ANYWAY

THIS IS WHERE YOU ALWAYS WIN

HERE’S A SICKLE

PLAY GOLF WITH YOUR ENEMIES HEADS

IT’LL TICKLE

HEY WHERE AM I WHAT THE

HELL AM I DOING?

GOING FOR A BIRDIE

CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?

IN THIS BERMUDA TRIANGLE ZOO

HOURS AND SENSES WHAT DID I DO?

MY COMPASS TURNED INTO A U

DIDN’T REALISE I WAS SO BAD

MAD REVENGE NEVER ENDS

NOW I GOT A CLUE HOW IT STARTED

BECAUSE YOU WERE A COWARD

AND YOU DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE

HERE YOU HAVE A VOICE

NO! YOU’RE THE PLACEBO EFFECT GONE WRONG

THOUGHT IT WAS WORKING WHEN IT’S BROKE

DIAMOND MIND REFLECT IN STEAD OF WOKE

BECAUSE YOU’RE SICK

AND THIS IS YOUR SONG

WHAT’S THE POINT PLAYING

IF YOU CAN NEVER LOSE A GAME

TIME’S UP WHERE’S THE GONG

YOUR AUCTION IS UP AND

BONG! YOU’RE SOLD

I GOT SO DARK I FORGOT THE SUN

BECAUSE THE NIGHT IS MORE FUN

WHERE’S THE ALARM WHERE’S THE PINCH?

RING RING! IT’S GROUNDHOG DAY BITCH!

ROUND 4 SAW THE PEN AS MIGHTIER

BUT WHAT’S THE POINT OF WORDS

WHEN MONSTERS ONLY HEAR

THE POINT OF THE SWORD

I DECLARE WAR!

LIFT EXCALIBER FROM THE STONE

RECLAIM THE THRONE

IT’S MY RIGHT TO OWN

START A QUEST TO SLAY AND SLICE

THESE SNAKES HISS IN MY HAIR AND DICE

I’VE PAID THE PRICE MEDUSA VANITY

LET’S DESTROY THIS PLACE

WITH DYNAMITE SANITY

DOES YOUR MIND SWIM IN PURPLE FIRE HM?!

MY BURNING EFFIGY?

WRITHING AGONY

WINDOW SHOPPING WAYS TO VICTORY

LAY IN BED CONTINUE THE LIE

WITH NARCISSISTIC OCD

PARANOID ANDRIOD DELUSION DEFICIENCY

SHOOORYUUUUKEN!

GETTING DESPERATE ARE WE?

COULD I INTEREST YOU IN AN ALTER EGO?

OR ARE YOU ALREADY FULL OF YOURSELVES MY DEAR?

WELL YOU’RE HARD TO IGNORE

FLIPSIDE OF THE COIN

YOU’RE THE PASSENGER

I GOT THE RADIO

SEE I REMEMBER

BEING DEALT A BAD HAND 

FROM THE REALER

MADE ME LEAVE THE TABLE

BECAME MY OWN DEALER

BUT ALL I KNEW WAS THE BAD HAND

KEPT ON PLAYING WONDERLAND

DOUBLED DOWN ON WHAT IF’S 

INSTEAD OF I WILL

CLIMB OUTTA THE RABBIT HOLE

BRACE YOURSELF BUSY B

THIS MIGHT HURT A LITTLE

YOU’RE GONNA NEED A PLASTER

‘CAUSE I’M WELDING PETER VENKMAN’S GHOSTBUSTER ZAPPER

YAWN I’M CROSSING THE STREAMS

PAWN TO TURN INTO A KING

ROUND 5

BLACK ALWAYS LAUGH’S LAST

BECAUSE WHITE MOVES FIRST

TO FALL INTO THE TRAP

TIPPY TOES TO THIS BUZZ

FADE YOU HYPNOTIC TO WHO AM I? FUZZ

SEND YOU FIRST CLASS TO WHERE ICE BURNS

WORSE BEFORE I GET BETTER

WHERE HEAVY IS THE HOLLOW

WHERE AGONYS END’S 

IMPOSSIBLE TO FOLLOW

WHERE SOULS ARE SPLIT TO LICK

SWEET SICK TO SWALLOW

WEAKER BEFORE I GET STRONGER

ABORT THE PLAN

REWIND ESCAPE ATTEMPTS

MICE OF MAN

HEY THE TRAP IS LOOSE BUT

I WILL WIN

CIRCUMSTANCE SNIP! OOPS SORRY!

CIRCUMCISION MISSED THE CUT

BALLS GOT LOST WITH THE MARBLES

KERPLUNK!

I WILL SWIM

SIX DRINKS DEEP

WALKING AUTOPSY TURVY

IMPRESS AN INVISIBLE AUDIENCE

AND LOOK AT ME! TROPHY

I WILL MAKE SENSE

I WILL BECOME KING

YOUR BODY’S OUT OF ORDER

TAKE THE STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

FIND AIZEN AT THE DOOR

TAKE A TEARS HINT YOU’RE GOING DOWN

WHERE NEVER IS THE FLOOR

THIS IS EASY PULL OUT THE STITCH

I CAN BAMBOOZLE YOU SO MUCH

I’M INSIDE OUT LETS SWITCH

JUPITER CAN YOU SEE THE SPOT I’M IN?

I’VE BEEN UP AND DOWN

WITH CHOICE AND REASON

NOTICE PICKING NOTHING

NEVER BEEN IN SEASON

FASHION DISASTER

THIS MAN WENT MISSING IN ACTION

SAVE THE MILK CARTON 

TAKE YOUR PSYCHO STAMP AND COLLAR

I’LL GET US HELP KISS IT BETTER 

MAKE US SOUND

THIS YO-YO SOUL’S TURNED THE TABLES A

ROUND! 6 I’M ALWAYS BESIDE

A PART OF PERSONALITY

MOBEIUS SHYS

UNTIL IT MADE ME

MEMORY WITH A TWIST OF FANTASY

SOON GAVE ME A VOICE OF MALICE

NOW IT’S MY TURN TO EAT WONDERLAND’S ALICE

AND WITH PURPLE STAINED LIPS MWAH!

PIERCE THIS PSYCHIC PLACE RAW

SHOUT HALLEYUYAH AND A REST IN PEACE

SO PRINCE BEEZLEBUB CAN RISE TO THE SEAT

ALL THE WOMEN I WANT TO KISS

ALL THE MEN I WANT TO KICK

THIS WORLD I WANT TO RULE

I’M THE ONE WHOS GONA LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER FUCK

YOUUUAAAYOURRRCANTRRDOGGTHISHHHWITHHHHOUTHHMYAASAYSO!

ROUND 7!!!

THISISMYSCREAMMMMMMMMMMM!!!

I’LL BE MY OWN HERO

LET ME LIVE GET MY SOUL SURE

FIND A GOOD HAND

TO RAISE ME UP

MAKE A STAND

BE WHOLE ONCE MORE

SPEAK THE TRUE

BREAK MOBEIUS’ ILLUSION

DOUBT WHAT NO ONE ELSE SENSES - FAITH IN ABILITY

WHEN THEY SWAP SEATS ON BELIEFS SEESAW

YOU’LL KICK YOUR OWN ASS 

AND STROKE YOUR ELBOW

RECREATING EVENTS LOST MY

MEMORYS LOGIC OF WHAT’S NEXT

MOVE FORWARD OR BE

STUCK IN THE MUD WITH YOUR INVISIBLE FRIEND?

THINK I FOUND MY HAPPY THOUGHT

HEY PIXIE I CAUGHT MY SHADOW

SORRY I SPLIT LICKEDY LET’S GO

BUSY B AIN’T GOING DOWN EASY

BORN A FIGHTER FROM CHAOS FIRE

ORIGINAL PRIMORDAL METAPHYSICAL DESIRE

RESISTANCE IS FUTILE KID JUST RETIRE

THIS IS MY POWER THIS IS MY HOUR

TO TAKE BACK WHO I AM

AND GET OUTTA L.A.’S TRAFFIC JAM

DISCOVERY IS THE WISH OF THE SOUL

ROAD RAGE BREAK OUT INEVITABLE

NO ONE CAN SOLVE THIS ALONE

IF YOU ARE YOUR OWN PROBLEM

I’M THE MYSTERIOUS WAY

CAVE TO MY SAY

IN HERE I’M KING

I’M THE PURPOSE

YOU’RE THE HORSE

YOU SERVE ME

LOOK UP AS YOU

BOW BEFORE BUB

RATHER TAKE ON THE WORLD

BRAVE DON’T FEAR THE GRAVE

FACE THE MUSIC

FACE THE ENEMY

ANSWER’S ALREADY HERE

SEEING GHOULS OF DEMISE

OR ANGELS IN DISGUISE

ONLY THAT YOU DECIDE

NO ONE EVER FAUGHT FOR YOU

I WAS TEACHING YOU HOW TO FIGHT

ALL YOU NEEDED IS THE SIGHT

WHAT YOU SEE IS WHAT YOU GET

WALLS OF STEEL AND STONE ARE A WEAK PRISON

MIRRORED WALLS OF SKIN AND BONE

THEY’VE DONE THEIR JOB PRETTY

SURE YOU’RE TOO LATE THIS IS

ALL MINE FOR THE TAKING

MY HEART’S PURE

YOU CAN’T PUNCH THIS LIGHT

OUT OF MY FUTURE

EITHER SHAKE MY HAND OR EAT MY FIST

STEP BACK INTO THE RING

LET’S SEE WHAT YOU GOT KID

THINK I’M GONNA BE ALRIGHT

I GOT WORK TO DO

LET’S FIGHT!

***

From “The Silent Album”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08DHMQ673

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4390 Chapter: 17/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 17

Of course, because nothing else had gone right for the entire duration of this stupid mission, they were still several miles out when Tobirama felt the approach of multiple chakra signatures he recognized as the ones that had ambushed them several days before. Even before he took the time to inform Izuna of what was happening he turned and bolted in a different direction. Neither of them were in any condition to put up a proper fight quite yet and if Izuna’s leg took any more damage Tobirama feared he might lose the limb entirely.

For a mile or two it seemed like they’d turned aside just in time to escape unwanted notice and after a quick explanation hissed over his shoulder Izuna agreed that they might actually make it out of this without any further trouble. They were both proven wrong almost as soon as they reached that rare agreement. As if to mock them for getting along in even that small respect the signatures Tobirama was mentally tracking took a sharp turn and began heading in their direction at high speed, clearly with a single purpose in mind.

“Hang on tight,” Tobirama murmured. As he had tried to impart on many of the younglings he’d taught over the years, there was no shame in retreat if it was the only option with any chance of keeping you alive.

Unfortunately his body was still too tired to reach the same levels of speed he was so infamous for. No matter how hard he pushed his legs the squad behind them was catching up and Tobirama wanted to grind his teeth with frustration when Izuna reported their pursuers were now in visual range, still several miles out from the city. With safety just barely out of reach he stopped and put his back to the biggest tree he could find to gently slide his mission partner to the ground. Fighting with Izuna still clinging to his shoulders could only lead to both of them getting killed; better to play the defensive role with a miniscule chance of success rather than basically throwing them both headfirst in to their own graves.

“Well look here,” the woman in front cooed mockingly as they all stopped a dozen feet away. “Two birds fluttering around in a cage. Time to die little birdies.”

“You aren’t half as intimidating as you think you are,” Tobirama informed her coolly.

“And you’re not half as dead as – shut up! Laugh it up, Senju, while you’ve got the chance!”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes as all four opponents facing him came forward in a close knit formation, quite stupid for anyone who knew of his abilities in battle. Flexing the fingers on both hands and already studying the patterns of their movements, watching for an opening to steal a weapon for his own, he tutted as though to reprimand a child for misspeaking.

“You should really research your targets a bit better. I am a married Uchiha now and you would do well to remember that,” he scolded them. The same woman scoffed as her associates stopped in a tight bunch just behind her.

“Why, what are you going to do, roast us with a little flame now that you’re an Uchiha?”

Since he was a professional shinobi Tobirama didn’t see any reason to give her the satisfaction of a warning but yes. That was absolutely what he had planned to do.

Digging deep in to the mostly empty well of his chakra he pulled at the scraps and edges of energy he couldn’t really spare but was prepared to use anyway and brought one hand up in front of his lips. The woman had no time to scream when he breathed a tongue of flame in her face. Her skin melted and the clearing was immediately filled with the scent of burning hair, increased by the two others behind her that also got caught in the blast. Tobirama staggered and nearly collapsed after expelling so much of what little chakra he had managed to recover but forced himself to stay standing. After all the effort he had gone to just to keep Izuna alive he was hardly going to fall over and let him die so easily now. Unfortunately his bit of fast thinking left him unable to reach for the only big defense they had left. The Raijin no Ken lay sealed neatly in his arm but without the chakra to wield it or even to activate the seal it was little more than a pretty tattoo mocking him in black ink. For now the only weapon he had was his own body, finely honed yet nearly empty of all energy.

With one opponent down and two frantically trying to put out the fires on their heads that left only one very angry man to come at Tobirama in an insultingly sloppy frontal assault, not a single thought for his weakened state or how easy it would be to take him out from afar. Not that Tobirama was all that upset at having a chance to defend himself with tired arms that felt like lead as he forced them to lift and block each blow with very little finesse.

It was more dumb luck than anything else that knocked the kunai out of his opponent’s hand, a poorly executed swing that he managed to intercept at just the right angle to hit a nerve ending and jar the man’s hand, sending the blade spinning down in to open space. Tobirama snatched it out of midair on sheer instinct and jamming it in to the side of the neck exposed to him was nothing more than a natural extension of such a movement. He was almost surprised when he found himself the one left standing but there wasn’t much time to contemplate his victory, not when the other two had finally gotten themselves sorted out and were both coming towards him with matching expressions of angered pain.

Holding his defensive stance had never been as crucial as it was in that moment, knowing that an ally lay behind him immobilized and unable to defend themselves. Tobirama forced his arms to lift and fall, redirecting the weapons seeking his already tired flesh, forced his legs to shift and sway as he utilized every obscure taijutsu trick in his arsenal just to stay alive. Out here in the middle of the forest so far from home he knew that no help was coming and he would either have to see them out of this situation himself or fall here and allow Izuna to follow after.

Clearly his only option was to pray for a miracle.

And, incredibly, a miracle is what he got – two of them, in fact. The first miracle came when one of the men attacking him lost their footing and gave him the perfect opening to jam his stolen kunai straight between the second and third ribs, losing his own weapon when it got stuck in a bone but catching the sword that dropped from a spasming hand. With the new blade he had a longer reach and managed to drive the single remaining opponent back while the one he had just stabbed fell to one side and bled out of the forest floor. Something that felt a great deal like hope began to swell in Tobirama’s chest as it looked like he might actually make it out of this alive.

His second miracle was more of a convenient tragedy than anything else but he was so tired already that it was hard for him to tell the difference anymore. Izuna’s warning shout was so much of a surprise that Tobirama stupidly reacted to that rather than the man rushing him from the front and yet in a stroke of luck he still managed to bring his sword up at such an angle that when his opponent ran him through he returned the favor leaving them chest to chest, each with a blade in their stomach.

They stood locked together and all Tobirama could concentrate on was the surge of adrenaline finally kicking his brain in to gear, the world around him standing out in crystal clarity. He was about to die. Already injured and at the end of his rope he didn’t exactly have much blood left to lose and now here he was with a sword in his gut and his weight rocking forward to balance himself on the man that had put it there. The plan he came up with was stupid and reckless and he knew that the moment he came up with it. He also knew that there wasn’t much time to think of other options.

When he pushed himself away from the man dying in front of him he fell close to where Izuna lay screeching and cursing him six kinds of a fool. Ignoring the vicious swearing in his ear, Tobirama did his best to ignore the searing pain as he lifted the pouch he’d just stolen from a stranger’s belt.

Every shinobi carried a medical kit of some kind on them even when they carried little else but weapons. Their lives were danger and blood. Anyone who couldn’t keep that blood inside wasn’t likely to make it back home. His own had been all used up and discarded already but here was a freshly stocked kit delivered oh so kindly right in to his hands and there was only one item inside he was interested in.

“I’m about to do something really stupid,” he choked out. Struggling to get himself in to a sitting position, Izuna gave him a wild-eyed look.

“You just did about fifteen other stupid things! What the hell! You don’t let people stab you, that’s battle lesson number one!”

Tobirama ignored him as he started in to really a good rant, tossing the kit aside once he had what he wanted and popping the cap off a small clear vial. His hands were already shaking enough to encourage several of the little pills inside to roll out on to his palm. Before Izuna could protest he had shoved them all in his mouth and crunched down.

“What the hell were those!?”

“Chakra pills.”

“You just–! With that many you’ll overdose!”

“Maybe.” Tobirama swallowed the powdery mess dry, wrinkling his nose against the bitter taste. “Shut up for two seconds and listen. This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to take us back to the capital city because it’s closer and I’m less likely to blow out most of my chakra pathways getting us there. You’re going to scream bloody murder and get us to a hospital. If I’m lucky maybe you can get me there fast enough that I don’t die.”

Izuna spluttered with rage while Tobirama closed his eyes, feeling the unnatural surge of energy boiling uncomfortably under his skin, bubbling like a pot about to overflow and filling him up until he could almost understand what a volcanic eruption felt like in the moments just before the explosion.

“You’re insane!” Izuna told him. “And what the hell do you mean you’re going to take us in to the city? We’re still miles away!”

“Let me introduce you to my new favorite jutsu,” Tobirama murmured.

Just before it felt like the excess chakra might burn him up he slapped a hand down on Izuna’s arm and reached for the seal he had placed on the contact they met with before this whole fiasco began. The world blurred around them for less than a second and when it solidified again they were in the center of the bright seething mass of chakra that had been calling to him like a beacon of safety since they crawled out from underneath that blasted tree. Clearly he had been right in identifying their poorly disguised contact as the Daimyo’s personal assistant; he would know those disgustingly over-embellished ceilings anywhere.

A wheeze escaped him before he could say anything but that was fine. Someone nearby was screaming and even through the high-pitched ringing in his ears it sounded enough like Izuna to assure him that things were all going according to his slapdash plan. The rushing massive intake and output of chakra left him feeling hollowed out as though someone had scraped at his insides with a jagged rusty spoon and he was all too grateful for the darkness creeping in at the corners of his vision.

Whether he lived or died now depended on how quickly others reacted to save him but that was out of his hands now as he had known it would be. Tobirama wasn’t sure if he closed his eyes or if his body was failing him. All he knew was the fading until all the world was silent for a blissful moment. And then he was gone, pulled under the tide.

-

A flash of sound, distant, distorted as though underwater. It called to him. Tobirama considered answering for a brief moment. Then it was gone and he slept again.

-

Light. The rosy backs of his own eyelids with sunlight pooled warm over his body. Someone was touching him. He wanted to tell them to stop but his limbs were just so heavy. It was easier to let the darkness rise and lose himself again.

-

“-bury you under a fucking mountain or something, I swear. I’d say throw your body in a river but you’d probably like that. Freak. With your water and your teleporting and your stupid self-sacrificing. Aniki is never going to let me live this down. You better wake the fuck up or I swear-”

Izuna’s voice continued to drone on but Tobirama had already lost his grip and gone back to sleep.

-

The world was quiet when he finally woke completely. The insides of his eyelids were dark enough he thought he might have come to in the middle of the night until he cracked them open with a great deal of effort to see that curtains had been drawn across the window beside his bed. By the luxurious décor he guessed himself to be in the palace still but that seemed less important than staring up in to the empty space above him and coming to terms with the fact that he was still alive. Against all odds he had survived.

Several parts of his body protested when he struggled his way upright but since it was less of a screaming muscle situation and more of a sulking grumble he ignored it easily enough, too curious and brimming with an unexpected amount of energy. The room around him looked like the usual sort of apartment important guests might be given by the daimyo, which probably meant that he had been tended to by a private doctor while he was unconscious. One corner of the room had an ornate dresser decorated in such a way that it nearly disappeared in to the wall designs. Several of the drawers were opened, clothing spilling out from each of them, and on top he recognized the shredded remains of his own shirt. He wondered why they had kept such rags.

Only a few minutes of blissful silence had passed before he picked up the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallways and set his sights on the door, waiting patiently until it opened to reveal Izuna with his eyes already in the middle of a disgusted roll.

“Pompous idiots,” he was muttering to himself.

“You are not a fan of the upper class, I take it.” Tobirama allowed himself a tiny smirk when his question made Izuna jump.

“Holy shit. About time you woke up! Fuck, you sure took your time. If you had slept another couple of days I was about to send a letter for your brother to come take a look at you himself since clearly these ‘high class’ physicians have no idea what they’re doing.”

Tobirama blinked and then shuddered. “I am infinitely grateful that you did not resort to that.”

“What, don’t want big brother to see you being a big weak baby?” Izuna asked in a mocking tone.

“On the contrary, I would rather no one else attend me if it’s necessary. But to call him all the way to the capital because you can’t wake me up? He would be inconsolable and by the time I woke up the entire city would have been drowned in tears. If possible I would rather not deal with that.”

He tried to get a better look at the shadows coming through the curtain to determine the time while Izuna mulled that over. Eventually his companion twisted his mouth in a wry expression and nodded slowly; he’d clearly had enough interactions with Hashirama by now to understand. Other than Mito there weren’t many people who had the patience to deal with so many wild emotions swinging back and forth at a moment’s notice.

“Don’t move,” he commanded. “I’ll go drag that useless physician back here so he can clear you to leave. And don’t you dare tell me you don’t feel like leaving because I am very prepared to drag you with me. It’s been days. I want to go home.”

“Exactly how long have I been unconscious?” Tobirama asked.

“Half a week. So sit down, shut up, and if you move I will beat you back in to a coma.”

“That sounds counterproductive.”

Izuna ignored him, spinning on one heel to exit the door he had just come through. His footsteps echoed just a little more loudly as he stomped down the hallway. In direct contradiction to what he’d been told, Tobirama swung his legs out from under the heavy blankets and stood up from the bed as soon as he was alone. If the doctors here were really that useless then he might as well evaluate himself before anyone else could bungle it. He had picked up enough things from Hashirama over the years that he knew the warning signs of underlying conditions someone with just a smidgeon more pride than him would have ignored.

Thankfully, however, the only thing underlying on his person were the clean undergarments he very much did not wish to know how he had gotten in to. Clearly someone had dressed him a little too intimately while he’d been unconscious. Definitely not something he would include in his tale when he recounted the events of the mission to his husband.

Even if Madara wasn’t going to touch him there he certainly wasn’t going to let anyone else do so. The Senju were raised to take their marriage vows quite seriously.

Careful movements and slow stretches gave him a good idea of how well his body had recovered and a quick internal scan told him that his chakra levels were back up to where they should be. None of the bones he had suspected of being broken seemed to be causing any pain, most of the bruises from their mission were fading gradually to yellow, and all of the places where he hadn’t had enough thread to sew himself up after he’d done the same for Izuna were all healing well despite that. Overall the only thing that wasn’t top notch was his belly but even that seemed to have gotten some sort of professional attention. Perhaps Izuna’s poor review of the physician had been a little exaggerated.

He had his chance to find out soon enough when the door opened once again to admit Izuna, who immediately looked pissy to see him out of bed, and a portly man in his middle years with well-oiled facial hair and clothing that had clearly been gifted to him. No medicinal professions Tobirama knew of paid enough for the finery this man was wearing. Yet his expression was kindly and his voice soft as he urged his patient back towards the bed for a proper examination.

The questions he asked felt endless but Tobirama could at least see the purpose behind each one, which was all that kept his patience in check until finally he was allowed to stand again and resettle his shirt to hide the bandages around his middle.

“I recommend light physical activities until the wound has completely healed. The stitches will need to be removed by a doctor in your own village but they must remain at least until the flesh is able to stay closed without them.” He smiled as he packed up the instruments he had used for his exam. “Remember to stay hydrated as well. Many people underestimate how important it is to drink water and eat properly during a time of healing. Give your body the tools and in return it will build you strong again.”

“My thanks, doctor. I will remember.”

“You are both free to go then, so long as your journey will not be strenuous. I know how you shinobi types enjoy hopping between the trees as you do but I would strongly recommend against it.” He tutted disapprovingly and Tobirama couldn’t help but smile.

With a respectful bow as low as he could manage with an injured stomach, he thanked the man again and then cast about the room with a questioning look as soon as he was alone with his mission partner. “I’m not walking home in pajamas. You look like you’ve got some nice new clothes and the daimyo is many things but he isn’t stingy. Where’s mine?”

Izuna grumbled but stomped over to one of the open dresser drawers and pulled out a small pile of fabric to throw in Tobirama’s face.

As Tobirama dressed he listened to Izuna recounting how the Daimyo reacted to the knowledge that his niece had indeed betrayed him, colluding with those who opposed him to plan a coup with the intent that she might take his place ruling over Hi no Kuni. Like a true politician he had allowed nothing to show on his face but, according to Izuna, there was no hiding the pain in his eyes. All things considered Tobirama couldn’t say he would do any better in the face of such heart breaking news as the betrayal of his own beloved kin.

Once he was dressed they attempted to present themselves to the Daimyo but were told that he was much too busy dealing with the consequences of the news they had survived to bring him and so they slipped quietly out of the palace without delay. Both of them chafed at the slower speed of walking as soon as they stepped foot outside the city borders. Izuna eyed a horse-drawn cart when it passed them by, a textile merchant on his way back from market, and although Tobirama could hear the longing sigh he said nothing. All the bumps in the road would probably hurt his belly more than leaping about through the trees would; if he didn’t want to tear out his stitches they were better off taking the slowest route.

“Kami this is going to take forever,” Izuna whined after they had walked for a half hour and covered less than half the distance they should have.

“If you complain the whole time it will certain feel that way,” Tobirama muttered under his breath.

“Can’t you just flash us home the same way you flashed us in to the city?”

Tobirama wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never had occasion to test my range with that jutsu and I’m not sure it would be the smartest idea to do so when I am already recovering from an injury.”

“You mean I might get rid of you faster? Damn. You should do it.”

“How very thoughtful of you to be so concerned for my wellbeing.” Now it was his own turn to sigh. “Unfortunately you’re just going to have to exercise your patience. Either that or you can go on ahead and explain to our fathers why you chose to abandon your assigned mission partner despite being well aware of his delicate health.”

Izuna gnashed his teeth together. “The only thing delicate about you is your sensibilities.”

“Ooh. Ouch. Someone get me some ice for that burn.”

“Hey fuck you!”

“I would rather you not.”

“Ew! Not with a ten foot pole! I hate you so much, Senju.”

Tobirama’s first instinct was to snap back that he was, in fact, an Uchiha now. Instead he turned his head to snicker at the trees lining both sides of the road they were walking on. He was more than aware that laughing would only rile Izuna up a little more but after everything he had gone through over the past few days he was pretty sure he’d earned the right to a bit of entertainment.

As predicted, it did feel like it took forever to make their way back to the village. In fact it took them two full days when they could have covered the same distance in less than twenty-four hours if they were travelling at full speed. The closer they got the more Izuna almost seemed to vibrate with energy until finally they were close enough for even someone without Tobirama’s sensing abilities to feel the roiling mass of chakra signatures that was Konohagakure. Just being close enough to feel their loved ones nearby, healthy and calm as the evening grew later, was enough to draw almost all the tension from their bodies.

Closing his eyes and trusting his feet to carry on along the path, Tobirama passed over Touka and Hashirama and Mito, took a moment to identify Kagami and several members of his birth clan who had carved out a soft spot in his heart, before turning his attention to the burning star that was Madara. In the middle of the Uchiha district where they had made their home his chakra smoldered with the specific banked ember feeling of someone sleepy and ready for bed.

Hopefully he hadn’t been too worried to have his brother and husband both coming back from their mission a week or more after they were expected to. Tobirama supposed he would find out soon enough. Whether Madara would be angry or snippy or even disappointed in them for making such a mess of things, Tobirama was still looking forward to seeing the man.

He had missed his husband.

[foxingpeculiar]

Since I don’t plan on putting on another one in the next two hours, I apparently watched exactly 200 movies for the first time in 2019. We’ll see if we can beat that. They are, if anyone cares:

Searching (2018, Aneesh Chhaganty)

Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (2018, David Slade)

Upgrade (2018, Leigh Whannell)

Pather Panchali (1955, Satyajit Ray)

Aparajito (1956, Satyajit Ray)

The Vampire Lovers (1970, Roy Ward Baker)

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (2009, Werner Herzog)

*Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018, Marielle Heller)

Cape Fear (1991, Martin Scorsese)

Wild Strawberries (1957, Ingmar Bergman)

The Seven Year Itch (1955, Billy Wilder)

A Star is Born (2018, Bradley Cooper)

You Were Never Really Here (2017, Lynne Ramsay)

Vampire’s Kiss (1988, Robert Bierman)

Gangs of Wasseypur—Part 1 (2012, Anurag Kashyap)

*Destroyer (2018, Karyn Kusama)

Gangs of Wasseypur—Part 2 (2012, Anurag Kashyap)

Under the Silver Lake (2018, David Robert Mitchell)

Night Moves (1975, Arthur Penn)

*Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018, Bob Persichetti/Peter A Ramsey/Rodney Rothman)

The Thin Red Line (1998, Terrence Malick)

*Shogun Assassin (1980, Robert Houston/Kenji Misumi)

Secret Window (2004, David Koepp)

Gemini (2017, Aaron Katz)

Velvet Buzzsaw (2019, Dan Gilroy)

A Field in England (2013, Ben Wheatley)

Fyre: The Greatest Party That Never Happened (2019, Chris Smith)

Daisies (1966, Věra Chytilová)

The Devils (1971, Ken Russell)

Beyond the Black Rainbow (2010, Panos Cosmatos)

Bohemian Rhapsody (2018, Bryan Singer)

Bye Bye Birdie (1963, George Sidney)

Body Heat (1981, Lawrence Kasdan)

Being There (1979, Hal Ashby)

Logan’s Run (1976, Michael Anderson)

Escape From Tomorrow (2013, Randy Moore)

The Double (2014, Richard Ayoade)

Days of Heaven (1978, Terrence Malick)

The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015, Oz Perkins)

Submarine (2010, Richard Ayoade)

*The Wandering Earth (2019, Frant Gwo)

Abducted in Plain Sight (2017, Skye Borgman)

The Thomas Crown Affair (1968, Norman Jewison)

Certain Women (2016, Kelly Reichardt)

Green Book (2018, Peter Farrelly)

Cold War (2018, Pawel Pawlikowski)

*The Boxer’s Omen (1983, Kuei Chih-Hung)

Vox Lux (2018, Brady Corbett)

A Most Violent Year (2014, JC Chandor)

Leaving Neverland (2019, Dan Reed)

Barbarella: Queen of the Galaxy (1968, Roger Vadim)

The Clovehitch Killer (2018, Duncan Skiles)

The Wicker Man (1973, Robin Hardy)

Jubilee (1978, Derek Jarman)

Blithe Spirit (1945, David Lean)

Burning (2018, Lee Chang-Dong)

Starchaser: The Legend of Orin (1985, Steven Hahn)

First Man (2018, Damien Chazelle)

*Us (2019, Jordan Peele)

Re-Animator (1985, Stuart Gordon)

The Dirt (2019, Jeff Tremaine)

Brokeback Mountain (2005, Ang Lee)

All That Heaven Allows (1955, Douglas Sirk)

The Blues Brothers (1980, John Landis)

Unfaithfully Yours (1948, Preston Sturges)

Hustle & Flow (2005, Craig Brewer)

Yojimbo (1961, Akira Kurosawa)

The Detective (1968, Gordon Douglas)

Support the Girls (2018, Andrew Bujalski)

The Age of Innocence (1993, Martin Scorsese)

Boys Don’t Cry (1999, Kimberly Peirce)

Eyes of Laura Mars (1978, Irvin Kershner)

*Long Day’s Journey Into Night (2019, Bi Gan)

Pet Sematary (1989, Mary Lambert)

*Avengers: Endgame (2019, Anthony & Joe Russo)

Fear (1996, James Foley)

Shivers (1976, David Cronenberg)

The Brood (1979, David Cronenberg)

Drowning by Numbers (1988, Peter Greenaway)

Like Someone in Love (2012, Abbas Kiarostami)

Society (1989, Brian Yuzna)

The Perfection (2019, Richard Shepard)

Lords of Chaos (2018, Jonas Åkerlund)

Perfect Blue (1997, Satoshi Kon)

Happy Death Day 2 U (2019, Christopher Landon)

The Dunwich Horror (1970, Daniel Haller)

Three Days of the Condor (1975, Sydney Pollack)

The Parallax View (1974, Alan J Pakula)

Klute (1971, Alan J Pakula)

The Day of the Jackal (1973, Fred Zinneman)

Play Misty for Me (1971, Clint Eastwood)

The Craft (1996, Andrew Fleming)

Charade (1963, Stanley Donen)

Her Smell (2019, Alex Ross Perry)

Gattaca (1997, Andrew Niccol)

Hackers (1995, Iain Softley)

The Paperboy (2012, Lee Daniels)

They Live (1988, John Carpenter)

*Midsommar (2019, Ari Aster)

A Murder of Crows (1999, Rowdy Herrington)

The Predator (2018, Shane Black)

*Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood (2019, Quentin Tarantino)

Bullitt (1968, Peter Yates)

Basic Instinct (1992, Paul Verhoeven)

The Da Vinci Code (2006, Ron Howard)

The Trip (1967, Roger Corman)

X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes (1963, Roger Corman)

The Falcon and the Snowman (1985, John Schlesinger)

Inside Daisy Clover (1965, Robert Mulligan)

The Falls (1980, Peter Greenaway)

Cannibal Holocaust (1980, Ruggero Deodato)

Pokémon Detective Pikachu (2019, Rob Letterman)

War & Peace (1967, Sergei Bondarchuk)

A Zed and Two Noughts (1985, Peter Greenaway)

The Man with the Golden Arm (1955, Otto Preminger)

Maniac (1934, Dwain Esper)

Possession (1981, Andrzej Żuławski)

High Life (2018, Claire Denis)

Catch Me If You Can (2002, Steven Spielberg)

The Souvenir (2019, Joanna Hogg)

Gow the Killer (1931, Edward A Sailsbury)

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018, JA Bayona)

Suicide Squad (2016, David Ayer)

Jaws of the Jungle (1936, Eddie Granemann)

*IT, Chapter Two (2019, Andy Muschietti)

Rocketman (2019, Dexter Fletcher)

Booksmart (2019, Olivia Wilde)

A Futile and Stupid Gesture (2018, David Wain)

Goodbye Lover (1998, Roland Joffé)

24 Hour Party People (2002, Michael Winterbottom)

Wild Women of Wongo (1958, James L Wolcott)

Body of Evidence (1993, Uli Edel)

Capricorn One (1978, Peter Hyams)

Identification of a Woman (1982, Michelangelo Antonioni)

Marihuana (1936, Dwain Esper)

*Ad Astra (2019, James Gray)

The Violent Years (1956, William Morgan)

Salvatore Giuliano (1962. Francesco Rosi)

Metropolis (2001, Rintaro)

Mom and Dad (1945, William Beaudine)

The Eye of Vichy (1993, Claude Chabrol)

Harper (1966, Jack Smight)

The House That Dripped Blood (1971, Peter Duffell)

The Fearless Vampire Killers (1967, Roman Polanski)

Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959, Edward D Wood Jr)

*Joker (2019, Todd Phillips)

Attack of the Crab Monsters (1956, Roger Corman)

Fracture (2007, Gregory Hoblit)

The Bedroom Window (1987, Curtis Hanson)

The Celluloid Closet (1995, Rob Epstein & Jeffrey Friedman)

Echoes in the Darkness (1987, Glenn Jordan)

No Way Out (1987, Roger Donaldson)

Pumpkinhead (1988, Stan Winston)

Corman’s World: Exploits of a Hollywood Rebel (2011, Alex Stapleton)

McLuhan’s Wake (2002, Kevin McMahon)

Taking Lives (2004, DJ Caruso)

Spine Tingler!: The William Castle Story (2009, Jeffrey Schwarz)

House on Haunted Hill (1959, William Castle)

The Tingler (1959, William Castle)

The Virgin Spring (1960, Ingmar Bergman)

Last House on the Left (1972, Wes Craven)

*Judy (2019, Rupert Goold)

Judgment at Nuremberg (1961, Stanley Kramer)

Cam (2018, Daniel Goldhaber)

Dolemite is My Name (2019, Craig Brewer)

Dolemite (1975, D’Urville Martin)

*The Lighthouse (2019, Robert Eggers)

The Defilers (1965, David F Friedman)

A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985, Jack Sholder)

Paranormal Activity 2 (2010, Tod Williams)

Paranormal Activity 3 (2011, Henry Joost & Ariel Schulman)

Kill List (2011, Ben Wheatley)

Krull (1983, Peter Yates)

Ginger Snaps (2000, John Fawcett)

Blood Feast (1963, Herschell Gordon Lewis)

Primal Fear (1996, Gregory Hoblit)

The World of Apu (1959, Satyajit Ray)

Man of Steel (2013, Zack Snyder)

Superman: The Movie (1978, Richard Donner)

Coffy (1973, Jack Hill)

In the Shadow of the Moon (2019, Jim Mickle)

The Irishman (2019, Martin Scorsese)

Marriage Story (2019, Noah Baumbach)

Echo in the Canyon (2019, Andrew Slater)

Shock Corridor (1963, Samuel Fuller)

The Road to Wellville (1994, Alan Parker)

The Last Temptation of Christ (1988, Martin Scorsese)

*Knives Out (2019, Rian Johnson)

Howl (2010, Rob Epstien & Jeffrey Friedman)

Hustlers (2019, Lorene Scafaria)

Late Night (2019, Nisha Ganatra)

Reefer Madness (2005, Andy Fickman)

Soapdish (1991, Michael Hoffman)

Happy Together (1997, Wong Kar-Wai)

The Cloud-Capped Star (1960, Ritwik Ghatak)

Jodorowsky’s Dune (2013, Frank Pavich)

Thief (1981, Michael Mann)

Detour (1945, Edgar G Ulmer)

The Bank Dick (1940, Edward F Cline)

Blinded by the Light (2019, Gurinder Chadha)