#I MUST KILL FAST AND BULLET TOO SLOW

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 1: Steer

Content Warning: Fantasy Racism, mentions of vomit, Endwalker Spoilers

There were many good things about Esredes choosing to have joined the Contingency and push himself north to Ilsabard. He saved people, he got to join a new organization, he saw more of the world- even if it was a hellscape- and most of all, he made new friends.

Making new friends was usually a good thing, but they could be very... eccentric, sometimes. Perhaps Esredes should have known better himself when he took the Pureblood former chief medicus of a legion he met in the Contingency to an Ala Mhigan and Radz-at-han fusion cuisine restaurant and insisted everyone try the spicy curry challenge. The discussion had been on Chocobos, and then it had quickly devolved.

"They are scary creatures," Andromeda, the defector medicus, had remarked about them. "I can't imagine what kind of strong will you must have to tame one... I think I'll stick to my car." Esredes tensed up at the mention of a car. "Speak for yourself." He said, quickly. "I'm not going near those evil devices." "Oh! You still have yours?" Ryousei, the half-Garlean, said to that. "I lost mine back home..." "I do! Well, scraps of it... it was pink! I named her Ladybug!" "Id love to take a look at it some time... i-if you don't mind. I used to work on mine with my... dad." His expression deflated. "What's a car?" Added Fiachna, one of the newer members of the network. "An unsafe metallic abomination." Esredes explained. He knew. Oh, did he know about cars, enough to say he never wanted to be near one ever again.

It was another cold night in Garlemald with the light of the full moon, and he had a mission. A mission to deal with a stray roader attacking carriages between camp and Tertium over the past several nights. That by itself made sense to him- destroy the moving target. He had some means of doing that with assistance, so it should be entirely doable. And then the rescued Garlean in charge who was all too trigger happy told them *how* they would lure it out.

With cars, as they called them. Several of them had been prepared for the task. Esredes stood by the lineup of them and just stared the metal carriages down. He'd seen so many destroyed ones among the wreckage that he didn't register there was a functional version in any form. And there was no Chocobo, but it wasn't an airship or manacutter, so how would it move without the air? He didn't know, and he wasn't exactly eager to find out. Knowing Garleans, it had a self-destruct mechanism for no reason just to kill more people upon destruction. What was a Garlean if not to kill everyone without a pearl on their forehead? Needless to say, Esredes was very reluctant to step into the passenger seat after fumbling to figure out how to get inside, but the task asked him to, so he reluctantly did. And it wouldn't be long before he regretted that choice.

Fast. Too fast. Whatever this thing was, it was entirely too fast, and he was used to flying. But something on the ground should never be able to pick up the speeds the thing accelerated to almost immediately. Esredes was all at once hopeless and helplessly trapped inside the vehicle, as trying to get out would most certainly kill him, but he could do nothing to slow it down as it drove across snow. Even worse, when they did find the target, the roader was covered in armor and opened fire on them with several guns, causing Esredes to yelp and duck down in the abomination to avoid being killed on impact then and there, only managing to raise up the metal on his gauntlet up to protect the driver from the bullets. To deal with the open fire, the car spun for a long moment to evade it. Esredes' urge to throw up increased as he gripped onto the seat for dear life. Another member of the party, the insane lunatic, thought it would be a great idea to jump onto the roader and take care of it that way. He was proven very wrong when the thing threw him right towards Esredes, the impact slamming his head into the back of the seat. The world quickly faded to static and limited sensations as he slid down and didn't get back up, not until the throbbing in his head began to alleviate enough for him to try and scramble up in the seat. For a small mercy, he managed to avoid emptying everything he had that day into the snow. But the moment the car stopped, he fumbled with the latch in a desperate escape to get out, and stumbled and half-tripped onto the pavement. He managed to pull himself back up into a stumble across camp until he could throw himself into bed and try not to focus on how much his head hurt.

"I see." Fiachna said to his comment in the present. "I'll avoid it, then." Andromeda, unfortunately, did not take the hint. "Cars are great! I have to take you for a drive, Ser Esredes!" "No," he said harshly, immediately. "Not. Ever. Throwing up once was more than enough." "What?" Ryousei said. "Aw cmon, car rides are a great way to relax honestly..." "It can play music and go REALLY fast!" She went on. "Ladybug had a V8 engine! She could really burn Ceruleum!!" "It can play music? Can I race a car?" Asked Fiachna. "I want to race a car. I can go faster."

Esredes sighed and kept eating the kibbeh appetizer they'd ordered. And yet, they kept going. "I loved racing!" Andromeda declared. "Oo, and obstacle courses! Spinouts... All sorts of things!" Ryousei chuckled. "Go figure, of course you're a speed demon, doc." "Did you know cars can go so fast the tires burn out??" "We should race." Fiachna declared. "Of course!!" Andromeda said. "Nothing better than pushing magitek to the BRINK! Once, I almost crashed into the side of a mountain!"

Esredes couldn't believe what anyone was saying right now. Garleans were truly insane, even the reasonable ones like her. Why were they like this. Why were they so wired to destroy themselves and others with their horrible contraptions. Between the creepy sounds playing from those devices that protected people from tempering, these things, and their traffic control having guns, Esredes was convinced good Magitek could only come from Ishgard itself. Not from the ones who wanted to destroy everything with it constantly.

Fiachna went on about wanting to race a car, until everyone's spicy curry they ordered for the spice challenge arrived. This relief gave Esredes the excuse he needed to hold a hand up. "All right. Enough car talk. I propose a countdown." It was time for everyone to die. When he hit zero, everyone took the first bite of the unreasonably spicy curry. Only Esredes and one other made it past the second round, only to meet their match. It didn't take long for both Andromeda and Ryousei to be freaking out about the heat. Andromeda grabbed Ryousei and declared, loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear,

"We are GARLEAN. WE WILL NOT SUCCUMB."

And that is how Esredes felt a big wave of secondhand embarrassment in the middle of the Ala Mhigan Thavnairian fusion cuisine restaurant for who he came along with. This is what you wanted, he reminded himself. For Garleans to be refugees in Eorzea and learn to be human by exposure and monitoring. So in the middle of the Ala Mhigan Thavnairian fusion cuisine restaurant, Esredes leaned back and sighed to himself. It would continue to be an ongoing process, to try and fix a defective peoples. But if he didn't try, what kind of follower of Shiva- and friend besides- was he?

So Esredes continued to listen and watch their theatrics in the restaurant, but when the embarrassment finally faded, he smiled a little. As per usual, these were his works in progress. And it was his duty not just to watch them improve, but to have some fun in the process.

[krikeymate]

What if (in the AU where Richie and Amber succeed) Sam survives and after spending weeks in a coma, she hunts Amber and Tara down (while the police is looking for Sam as well, bc they believed the story of the two remaining survivors - two weak girls who went through hell - that Sam is Ghostface). Tara kept her promise and left with Amber who more or less kidnapped her.

So, Sam finally finds them and tries to convince Tara that they should run away together.

Showdown: Amber is so manipulative and intelligent that she basically convinces Tara that she herself would go on another killing spree if Tara leaves bc she is the only thing (literally a possession) who keeps her sane. Sam starts arguing and Tara screams back at her that she wouldn’t be able to live with the knowledge that she is responsible for more death and pain.

Amber stares at her with a confused and shocked expression. “Who are you talking to?” She asked. “There is no one there, baby.”

Tara thinks she lost it and that she is hallucinating. She breaks down and Sam runs up to Amber to prove that she is very much alive but this little shit is fast and knocks her out before Tara can realize what is happening.

Amber grabs her pet and drags her to their car without a second thought about the immense pain Tara must be in right now.

Sam wakes up and the first the she sees is Tara’s inhaler. She needs to be fast and drives after them with a stolen car (she never forgot about the times she was forced to sleep in a foreigner’s car in order to not die while being homeless).

Showdown II: She finds them and this time Tara realizes that her sister is still alive. Amber is furious and threatens to kill Tara. The police shows up and wants to arrest Sam but after taking in the situation and Tara finally telling the truth about her crazy ex with a gun pressed against her temple, they change their minds.

But we’re talking about Amber fucking Freeman, a teenager who has nothing left to lose after failing her community of movie obsessed freaks. She pulls the trigger.

Sam’s screaming and running to her sister. Everything seems to happen in slow motion: the police tackling Amber down and putting her in hand cuffs while the girl is laughing like the manic she is and basically confessing to everything; the blood painting the dirty ground red; her sister’s desperate attempt to get air in her lungs.

But, it turns out that Amber couldn’t kill Tara and the bullet only brushed her temple.

After recovering, Tara wants to confront Amber. She wants to know if she really loved her at some point or if she was just a pawn in her game. Amber refuses to talk to her but demands a meeting with Sam in secret.

Sam visits her and Amber tells her why she couldn’t kill Tara: This naive girl with abandonment, mommy, daddy issues and no self-respect made her feel something for the first time in her life. She’s unable to be empathetic but when it comes to Tara she feels the need to protect her. She was always so jealous of Sam and that was the main reason behind the killings -no stupid movie, what a pathetic idea-. Amber couldn’t understand why Tara was still so attached to Sam and it made her angry. Sam was the only person who (as long as she is alive) would always be a threat to their twisted relationship; to Tara being entirely hers.

Previous. BaileyRhapsody would like you to know they're sending you kisses. And me also, for seeing me kill Sam and deciding that I'm wrong actually and Sam should be alive, 'cause you're so right. I love where you took this, I have a few suggestions. Also, props to Bailey who was my soundboard, so their influence is here too (it always is).

Sam spends weeks in a coma from the blood loss. But she wakes up, and when she does, she's handcuffed to a bed in a prison hospital. Nobody will listen to her when she says she didn't do it, when she tells the truth. Then one day she gets a visitor. He introduces himself as Mark Kincaid and says "they say you're the one who killed my wife."

She doesn't bother trying to convince him otherwise, she just begs him for information on her sister.

Miraculously, he tells her what he knows, he tells her anything she asks. He tells her she'll see him again. On the day she's officially sentenced, she thinks. On the day she's released from the hospital, it turns out.

He believes her. He believes her.

She's shuffled away into the back of an FBI van and reintroduced to Kirby Reed. Together the three of them make a plan.

~

At first, Tara finds herself unable to talk. The words simply won't escape her mouth, and then she finds she doesn't want to. What's the point. Sam's gone. Sam's gone and it was her and there's nothing anybody can do about it.

She's stuck in the hospital, her mother unreachable. She spends all her time in that room, stuck in her head. With no one to visit her - they're all dead she keeps remembering - except Amber.

Amber likes to visit, to stroke her hair and whisper to her softly and kiss her, and act as if nothing ever happened, as if she didn't do this, didn't do it all.

Amber's story is the one that gets told, the one that gets believed. Tara's too traumatised for them to even try to listen to her. Just the poor little victim, brutalised by her own sister. She watches the news, listens to every filthy lie they say about her sister. It makes her blood boil.

After weeks, she's released... into Amber's care. Her mother still hasn't come home and she doesn't understand why she has to go with Amber. Tara's an adult, she doesn't need- this shouldn't... this shouldn't be happening. But it is. And Amber whispers in her ear, reminds her to behave, that she won't be able to control herself if Tara makes her angry. She's seen what she's capable of.

Tara agrees to go with her.

The night before she's set to be released, she gets a visitor from a ghost. And it is a ghost, no matter how real the hand against her cheek or the lips on her forehead feel. It whispers that things are going to be ok, that they're going to fix things, that she just has to keep quiet and wait.

Tara's been doing a lot of that recently.

~

Ghostface attacks start again. It makes Amber agitated. She looks at Tara accusingly sometimes. Tara just stays quiet, sits at her desk and doodles. Amber doesn't let her use the internet anymore, so she entertains herself the old-fashioned way, with paper and a pen. Mostly she draws her sister, lines shaky and weak, pen barely gripped in her still bandaged hand.

It's one of the rare times Amber's out when she turns at a noise and finds Ghostface standing in the doorway. She should be scared, she thinks. Instead, she just feels relief as they walk up to her.

But instead of a knife in the gut, it's a hand on her cheek and gloved fingers stroking behind her ear the way her sister used to do when she was young.

Ghostface whispers about plans.

"I have plans too," Tara chokes out, voice hoarse with disuse.

~

Tara starts to talk to Sam a lot once she's alone, regardless of whether the apparition is there or not.

One day, Amber catches her, demands to know who she's talking to. She only gets angry when Tara responds Sam. She rips the drawing from her hands, tears it into pieces and throws the remains in Tara's upset face. She screams that Sam is dead, that Tara killed her and that she's never coming back. That she has to get over it.

Amber never expects to hear the modulated voice from behind her.

"I think you're the one that has trouble letting go, aren't you Amber."

Amber lashes out, pushing Ghostface back. She grabs Tara's arm and yanks her from the room. They make it down the stairs, but the door is locked. It won't open. Why won't it open?

"I think the time for games is over, don't you agree?"

Amber can't believe this is happening; who the fuck is this, what do they want? She tries the back door. Locked. Tara stands right where she left her, unconcerned. She has something to do with this, doesn't she? Of course she couldn't trust her. She should have just killed her in the first place. She would always be Amber's forever, then.

Amber retrieves one of the guns she keeps hidden in the house as Ghostface descends the stairs. Amber pulls Tara behind her.

"It's over, Amber. Did you really think you would get away with it?"

"Fuck you asshole, you don't know who you're messing with," she screams. She doesn't miss the sound of the doors unlocking, the sight of two figures with their guns raised entering from each exit.

She looks between the two of them, outraged. "What the fuck is this?" Nothing is going according to plan, this is all going wrong. She wasn't prepared for this.

Ghostface removes their mask.

She wasn't prepared for this.

Sam fucking Carpenter stands before her, still alive.

"It's over, Amber," she repeats.

"Like fuck it is," she responds, enraged. She grabs Tara's shoulder, pushing her forward and digging the gun into the side of her head. She ignores the detectives as they speak to her, her eyes never leave Sam's furious ones. This is between them. It's always been between them.

"There's no way for you to win this," Sam quietly declares. "Maybe not," Amber answers, "but I can make sure you don't win either."

She spins Tara around, Amber wants to be the last thing she sees. Not Sam. Amber.

She doesn't recognise the eyes staring back at her. They're empty, no emotion. Tara used to adore her. Where is that now?

Amber clenches her jaw and pulls the trigger.

She feels bullets tear into her body, no bulletproof vest this time to protect her. The last thing she sees before she closes her eyes is Sam's distraught face, crying.

~

"Was it worth it?" Sam asks her from the other side of the window. "Is this the future you dreamed of?"

Amber scoffs. Sam knows her answer. She's only here to torment her.

"I don't recall inviting you."

"Yeah, well, who else was gonna come? Tara? You know that's never gonna happen."

"What are you doing here, Sam?"

"I want to know why. Why Tara? Why not someone else, anyone else."

Amber laughs into the com. "Because it was easy," she declares. "She was so pathetic. Begging for attention, for someone to love her." She delights in the way Sam's fists clench, how her jaw twitches. "She was mine."

"Then why would you hurt her?"

"What are you, my therapist? I didn't want to share her, it's as simple as that."

"Now you don't have her at all."

Amber glares back at her, but she doesn't respond. Sam wants a response, she won't give it to her.

"I do have a message from her though," Sam says, standing up and preparing to leave. Amber watches her cautiously, she can't let her know how desperate she is to hear what she has to say.

"She says get over it."

Sam walks away. She doesn't need to see Amber to know her reaction. She can hear the banging on the window, the way she screams her name. It's satisfying, she wishes she could stay longer, to rip apart every notion that girl has about her sister, but Tara's due to be released today, and Sam can't keep her waiting.

[sharkblizzardblogs]

Writeblr Interview Tag

Thank you @sableglass for the tag, please feel free to include me in more like this!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

As in which one of those do I write? Novels

What genre do you prefer reading?

For Fiction

Fantasy/Dark Fantasy, Sci Fi, Apocalyptic/Post Apocalyptic, Folk Tales, and a few coming of age stories

For Non Fiction

Plant guides, Artist/animation, Natural History

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Usually a write as I go, though sometimes that sparks the loose idea of a plan…well, more of a list of bullet points anyway.

What music do you listen to while writing?

Lots of stuff from Blue Turtle on youtube. Also a lot of DnD Ambience/WritingAmbience kinds of things and Bridgerton style pop instrumentals, basically anything without lyrics.

Favorite books/movies?

Hmmmm, right now I’d say: The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Bridge to Terabithia, The Poison Study trilogy, Paper Towns, and the Locke and Key graphic novels.

Any current WIPs?

Nowhere to Nowhere, a story about two sisters who walk through a gate while exploring on their camping trip and end up in another dimension, the land of the fae. After meeting a fae cat named Bryn, one sister is kidnapped and the other must work together with their new friend to rescue her. The story is told from the perspective of the cat, Bryn.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

A green sleevless shirt, denim shorts, tennis shoes and glasses

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

I incorporate behaviors from people I know into my writing all the time, sometimes in a positive light and sometimes as a cautionary tale. Do I like it? Yes, I suppose so. It’s therapeutic in any case.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

No. If they die it has to have a specific purpose and I don’t find shock to be that purpose for most of my work.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Neither. I despise tea and coffee makes my heart do unnatural acrobatics.

Slow or fast writer?

Slow writer, if only for the inconsistency. I am chronically busy and so when I find time to write I can easily do a thousand words or more in one setting but finding the time is more difficult than I’d like.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

Everything. I’ve always had an expansive imagination and it’s like any other muscle, the more you use it the stronger it gets. And of course I use people in my life, and the cats in my life, as inspiration too.

Most fav book cliche:

More of an archetype but The Hero’s Journey or Group of Misfits

Least favorite cliche:

Love at First Sight

Favorite scene to write?

I don’t think I can answer this without an essay.

Reason for writing?

Again, I need an essay here but the short version is:

Analyzing myself and those around me, picking us all apart and restitching us. Explaining what I’ve learned and what’s important to me without writing a memoir. Engaging my imagination and letting it run without bounds.

Tagging: @aziz-reads , @philosophika, @mauvelilywilliams, @faeriecinna

[greetingfromthedead]

C77: Uncanny Valley

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Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 77/84

Words: 1.8k

No particular warnings for this chapter.

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As all of Vash's wounds are finally tended to, you take a step back to make sure he is still breathing. Holding your own breath, you watch for any movement, and to your relief, you see his chest rise. This is enough reassurance for you, and you are suddenly flooded with emotions. Your hands, which you had forced to be steady while tending to him, start to shake uncontrollably. You look at your bloody fingers and almost fall backward. Taking a few more steps back, you find the wall and slide to the floor. Everything you had held back is flooding through you as you start crying and break down completely. Worry, fear, relief, paranoia, sadness, happiness, guilt. All these emotions shake your body as you cry out.

Vash isn't out of the woods yet. This is just the start; the bleeding might have slowed, but it hasn't stopped completely. You don't have the supplies to stay here—not enough to take care of his wounds, and you used up the majority of the water. Your mind is going as fast as it can in the midst of the emotions. You don't dare to leave him alone.

You press your head between your legs as you keep crying helplessly. It is all too much. If only someone could tell you what is right. Vash has to pull through; you refuse any other outcome.

"Iris." Vash's soft voice reaches your ears, and you look up. You see him in the ray of sunshine as he reaches his hand out towards you, still laying on the bed. "I can hear you. Don't cry because of me."

His words aren't even registering as you stumble onto your feet again, barely able to walk. You stagger to his bedside and kneel down, taking his hand. You press the back of his hand against your forehead and squeeze it tight.

"Why are you so scared?" The quiet voice reaches you. "I thought you were brave and courageous."

Your eyes trail up, along his hand and arm. You see that he is sitting, no longer laying helplessly on the bed. He looks healed and well. There is no sign of pain or discomfort. It must have been his Plant powers—the healing factor he himself has. You don't know how it works; you've only seen him hurt once before, and then it took him a while to heal the bullet wounds. This is no time to contemplate how it happened. You are just glad he is whole again, and you spring up from the floor, throwing your arms around his neck, which forces him backwards.

"You're all better! I was so scared! You were so badly hurt!" You sob into his skin, "The wound in your stomach! It looked so bad! I was so worried for you!"

For a moment, you are left to cry like you are, awkwardly laying on top of him while hugging him as tight as you can. After some hesitation, you feel hands on either side of your waist. They don't grip you tightly; it's more like they are gently resting against you.

"Why were you worried?" you hear him ask calmly.

You would let go of him and look at him with disapproval and a hint of amusement, but you can't bring yourself to let go.

"Because I care about you, you dumb log!" Your arms squeeze tighter. "I thought I would lose you! I was scared you were going to die!"

This opens the floodgates to new tears. Your body is still in shock over everything that has happened in this short time span, and now the relief is overwhelming your whole being.

"Don't do something so idiotic again!" You sob against his neck, "I can't lose you! I care too much for you!"

"I don't understand."

"You're my friend... no... you are so much more! You are everything!" Your voice gets caught in your throat. "I don't want to see you hurt. I would take any bullet and any wound for you, not just because I will survive anything... I would do it regardless because seeing you in pain kills me."

"I see. You care."

"I do! Of course I do! You're an idiot for thinking otherwise!" Your hug tightens even further, and the hands on your waist travel to be around you, crossing on your back, and you settle in a bit more, still laying awkwardly over him.

This doesn't feel quite right; usually your body melts into his, he quickly adjusts you to a more comfortable angle, but not now. Is he still a bit hurt? Are you hurting him with this? It feels strange, a little unsettling.

You pull away to look at him. His expression is neutral; there is no sign of distress or pain, but neither is there happiness nor joy. You look into his pale blue eyes to understand the hesitation, but find no answer. His light skin and hair don't give a clue either into his state of being.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks as his arms release you, and you push off to sit beside him.

"Nothing... I just..." You watch him sit up and look at you tentatively. "I just got a weird feeling. It's nothing."

But, you know, it's not nothing. Something is wrong, but you can't put your finger on it. He sounds the same, he smells the same, and he looks the same. Right? You can't remember him ever being different than in this moment. So why is it unsettling you like this?

You open the bathroom door and step outside. You look over and see Vash sitting by the window, his gun taken apart on the little table. His eyes are nailed to you as he gets up from his chair and walks over to you. He stops right in front of you, his towering figure forcing you to look up to see his blue eyes. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you; you feel at peace and don't feel like you should fill this silence.

His hand raises up to push aside your damp hair, his eyes following his hand. You don't flinch away as he tucks the strand behind your ear.

"Aren't you afraid?" He speaks quietly, and his gaze moves back to your face.

"Why would I be afraid?" You smile with slight confusion but are still amused. "I will outlive the heat death of the universe; I'm not scared of you."

"What about pain? Aren't you afraid of it?" His voice is calm, but there's a chilliness to it that is strange.

"I know you wouldn't hurt me, silly man." You keep your eyes on him for a moment longer as you walk past him, your arm brushing against his. You go to the gun that's been taken apart and inspect it. You don't know much about this; you pick up a piece without knowing where it even goes and move it between your fingers.

Footsteps come closer to you and stop right behind the chair you sat down on. You feel a hand grab onto the backrest.

"You're stubborn," the quiet voice says. "I'm not sure if it's bravery or stupidity."

The air from those words moves the hairs on your head, sending shivers up your back, and it makes you whip around. The face of the man is so close to yours, yet you don't shy away.

"And you're annoying," the amusement clear in your voice. "What's your point?"

His eyes move down along your nose onto your lips, and his free hand touches your chin. This feels strange; your fingers can almost feel wanting to reach out to him, and your muscles have a faint desire to touch his face, but your heart tells you otherwise. You linger in place as his thumb traces over your lips, yet the view is wrong. The world doesn't look sunny and bright in this moment; it is cold and strange, like the colors have been sucked away. Even the bright and cheery man before you is anything but. His expression isn't tender; it looks cold yet curious. Everything about him looks washed out. His skin is paler, his eyes a different shade of blue, and even the hair is different. Where are his glasses? Where is the black turtleneck?

You pull away from his touch, your eyebrows moving together into a frown. You back into the table, and you place the piece of the gun back onto it.

"This is wrong. You aren't Vash... I know Vash..." Your voice goes lower, with a note of anger in it.

The face before you contorts into an expression of suppressed anger as he straightens up.

"You defy me yet again?" His voice is louder; there is no sign of tenderness in it.

You scramble up from the seat and stumble forward to get away. It feels like you're stabbed in the back as you land on the floor. You crawl away a bit more before turning around to see the man standing over you menacingly.

"You are fearless, but is it courage or is it foolishness? If you knew that he was no human, would you have shunned him like the rest? Would you have recoiled from him?" He comes even closer, and your feet push you away so you can try and get up.

"What do you mean?" You turn yourself to be on your hands and knees. "What are you talking about?!"

Your head is scrambled. How did you get here? Where is here? Trying to get on your feet is harder than you thought; the pain in your back is taking away the strength in your limbs. You look for something to grab on to but find nothing. By instinct, you reach for your weapon from under your arm, but you find a thin, papery cloth. This is not Vash's turtleneck you had pulled on; these are not your clothes either; you find no throwing knives. You push up into a kneeling position, for a moment forgetting the danger looming behind you. Your hand traces along the knee length gown; it is tied on the side, and as your hand goes underneath it towards your shoulder, you feel raised skin. A healing wound, the skin covering it looks like a scar, and it has yet to turn back to normal skin. You trace it and don't find the end of it; it disappears into the depths of the dress, running diagonally.

Once again, you try to get up, but your legs give in moments later. You try getting away as you hear a step right behind you, but a hand grabs our hair and pulls you to your feet. Your fingers dig into the arm to relieve some of the pain on your scalp, but you still yelp loudly as he turns you to face him.

He isn't Vash. How could you ever have mistaken him for Vash?

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[f1shbonez]

 “Pull that trigger, you’ll wish you hadn’t.” 

 A noxious cocktail of chems coursed through Jinx’s veins, baying for blood. The predatory intensity made the hunt even more thrilling. Hot and electric, it pulsed through Jinx whilst she moved from room to room, pouring bullets and switching weapons in a flurry of bloodlust. Fast. Fast. Fast. It amplified everything. Speed. Noise. Reaction time. Strength. She could fight anything like this. 

Raiders, raiders, raiders. They were simple. Loud. Easy to shoot at. Nobody liked raiders! The cacophony of gunfire must have been audible for miles around. Was it overkill? Yup! Was it fun and a great distraction from the mess in her head? Also yup! She could hardly hear the sound of people dropping, screaming and choking on their own blood over the heavy gun exploding deadly shots from her hip. The room stank of rotting wood, mould and gunpowder. Through the haze, Jinx took a breath and smiled. 

Maybe all the ruckus would draw out some new targets to shoot at. The furthest corner of The Commonwealth was void of most life. Sure, there’d been a Deathclaw to the North, but as Jinx ambled and weaved along the Western routes, everywhere was empty. Except for these raiders. 

They had nice digs too. A few rotting ghouls made clear that they’d only held the factory for a small amount of time. Maybe they’d have some cool stuff in their armoury. Oh! Or a safe to break into! If nothing else, it would help to stock up on ammo after such a long trip. After peppering the place with Pow-Pow’s bullets (and felling most of the raiders in the process), it was time to consider being a bit more thrifty with bullets. Just in case. 

It was dead quiet. That usually meant every raider in the place was dead. They weren’t the kind to shy from a fight when it came knocking, and that was exactly what Jinx had needed; a brief, exhilarating bloodbath. 

Strolling through her new digs (freshly painted in red!), Jinx began to hum, stooping to rifle through pockets and empty her still-warm opponents' weapons of their ammo. Why did nobody carry 5mm bullets? Rude. She wandered through the place, lifting bottles to inspect them, pocketing a couple of canisters of jet and psycho as she found them and–bingo! Terminal. With her back to the room, Jinx slumped forwards, beginning to coax the machine into unlocking. Would they have a light control system? Any juicy gossip? What about–

–What was that noise?

Feeling her expression snap back into a lethal snarl, Jinx spun around, firing blindly towards the noise. 

You’re dead!

There were more! How had she missed them?! After only a couple of rotations Pow-Pow slowed, releasing nothing but smoke. In the second it took Jinx to glance down at her gun, they were upon her. Swinging the barrels of the minigun forward to strike her attackers was cumbersome- slower than sinking bullets into people. She only managed one strike before she was tackled to the ground. A masked face was looming over her, it was pretty similar to her own if not for the colour…and the sweet paint job. She’d be taking that once he was dead- it was pretty cool. 

Writhing and doing her best to drive a knee into her attacker’s stomach, Jinx battled to pull a hand to her belt. All she needed was her pistol and this would be over as quickly as it started. 

“Pull that trigger, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

A frustrated hiss slid through Jinx’s teeth as she wrestled with the weight atop of her. Maybe a pistol was a bit ambitious right now, but a loose right arm would offer the chance to bash this guy good ‘n hard over the head with her Pip-boy. …Pip-boy.

Was…was the guy on top of her wearing a Pip-boy? Adrenaline still spiking, Jinx paused only for a second. 

“Nice stuff.” She hissed, flopping back to the ground in a mock surrender. 

“After I kill ya, I’ll take good care of it.”

[tardigradetheking]

So in order to note make all for one ludicrously OP I tried my hand at balancing him.

Say he can only use six quirks at once and three of those are used to keep him alive.

Then say he has an upper storage limit. Say 40 but he likes to keep some slots open in case he finds new quirks

Giving all for one limits is important because it makes him more then the "I have a quirk for that" guy, and gives you opportunities to get creative

What would those quirks be. I propose

Life support quirks (basically always on) Stamina boost Pain nullification Infrared

(3) Convenience quirks

Temperature control (weak lets him change temp of air around him and food) downside is burns calories to do (helps against fire and ice)

Phone call: built in cell phone quirk itself cannot be turned off but AFO quirk is a work around

Sludge teleporting

Locate small objects

Power nap: 15 min nap gets you a full night's sleep (doesn't use often these days)

Hearing boost

Heightened reflex

Tech interface (it's like having a universal mouse and keyboard can view through cameras ((this plus phone call gives him very slow internet access))

(11) Hard to kill quirks

Medium power regeneration quirk

Medium shock obsorbtion

(I'm assuming shock obsorbtion and Regen are both rare and he gave his best ones too that first nomu)

Energy obsorbtion (one of his aces. An uno Reverso to any electric, explosive, beam attacks)

Flush system: body is flushed of all poisons drugs and hormonal influences gives you low blood sugar (he keeps candies on hand)

Manage oxygen content: takes manual concentration but he can effectively double or half the oxygen content in the air around him

Bullet proof skin

Iron bones (gives iron deficiency if over used ((he keeps supplements on hand))) ((does not strengthen joints much needs a strength booster to do that))

(18) Privacy quirks

Sound dampen (works both ways hope you like raising your voice when you want to talk to someone close to you)

Intense darkness (shadows are darker great for intimidation too)

Mental static (harder to think but he is used to using it)

(21) Intimidation

Air walk

Every body scream (gives everyone himself included a panic attack (he is used to it and mental static hard counters when activated first))

(23) The death dealers

Air canon: creates a fast moving ball of air when punching out a limp

Spring limb: let's limps shoot forward and spring back (make sure to turn off air cannon when the limbs spring back)

Strength times x2

Strength x4

Fire breath (nostalgic) ((first quirk acquired))

Max strength telekinesis: your hypothetical Max strength controls how much you can lift (just having strength x2 x4 is a boon)

Water knife: (keeps a flask of water in his coat) mastered it can cut steel now

(30) Funsies

Mimic sound Change viscosity (water is a fun fidget toy)

Combos

Spring limb + air cannon = air howitzer

Strength x2 + strength x4 = strength x8

Air howitzer + strength x8 = level city block

Level city block + reflex boost = level the area around him in rapid succession (note can only have 1 other quirk running)

Air cannon + strength boost quirks = dismissive destructive wave of the hand

Bullet proof skin + iron bones + strength x2 = extremely durable

Energy obsorbtion + shock obsorbtion + bullet proof skin = no selling most attacks Can swap out infrared, or pain nullification depending, to also Add temp control and or iron bones to make extra sure

Phone call + tech interface = slow wifi

Flush system + mental static = no sell mind control

Air walk + sound dampen = cannot hear coming

Change viscosity + telekinesis = makes liquids interactable

Everyone scream + manage air content = I cast hyperventilate

If his life support is knocked out must run: stamina boost + manage oxygen content+ pain nullification Cannot run (impacts thinking) mental static flush system everyone scream Can poorly run (takes concentration) tech interface water knife Temp control

[asanionyx]

Wet Dreams

Tags: Trans Soap x Ghost, fingering, boypussy.

A/N- This is my first ever fic. Sorry if the quality of the writing is bad!

TW: use of pussy, hole, dick, cunt.

Soap wakes up to wetness and slick beneath him. He slightly removes the covers to see the scene he’s made as recollection of the wet dream he had comes in waves.

“Ugh…” he groans in frustration as shame and embarrassment fills his body. He turns his head to see a sleeping Ghost next to him.

The situation Soap is in starts to dawn on him. Panic starts to set. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! Soap thinks as his brain tries to think of a fast solution.

Soap and Ghost were forced to sleep in one bed during a slow mission. It was the only one available in the Inn. Neither man was bothered by it until now. Soap was sweating bullets.

If Ghost woke up now to see Soaps mess, there is no way he’d look at Soap the same. Soap looked around for anything to help him. Absolutely nothing. If he moves Ghost for sure would wake up, he was a light sleeper. He had to be for a job like theirs.

Soap had no other options at this point. He decided he’d leave the bed as slowly as he possibly could then figure it out from there. Soap grabbed the covers, slowly lifting them as he used his feet to try and slide off the bed.

“Mmmhh” Ghost moans as his sleep starts to waver. Soap froze in place, laying there eyes wide watching Ghost flutter his eyes open. Soaps heart flew straight to his ass. He knew he’s done for.

“Good morning, Johnny.” Ghost groans out, voice dark and hoarse. Soaps cock twitches at the sound. Fuck, not now! Soap thinks.

“Good morning, LT.” Soap says voice cracking from fear. Ghost instantly notices the wet spot in the covers when he’s fully awake. He looks at Soap and stares.

“Johnny.” Ghost says sternly making Soaps entire body shiver. “Did you piss yourself, Soap?” Ghost asks.

“N-no, I- it’s not piss.” Soap stutters voice weak with embarrassment. “I-I’m so sorry, LT, I’ll clean it up.” As Soap tries to stand Ghost stops him by grabbing his forearm firmly, bringing Soap back to lay in his wetness.

Ghost reaches down and cups Soaps pussy in his big hand. “Ah,” a moan flows out of soaps mouth from the unexpected touch.

“How do you even get this wet?” Ghost comments, his gaze unwavering from Soap. Ghost moves closer, hand still in Soaps pants. Ghost uses his index finger and ring finger to spread Johnny open.

Soap gasps as air suddenly hits his sensitive hole. Ghost then taps his middle finger on Soaps entrance. Johnny’s cunt twitches at the loss of touch. Satisfied with the reaction, Ghost started drawing circles around Soap’s entrance, a smirk springing up on his face.

Soap bits his lip as he watches Ghost’s hand at work, anticipation killing him.

“Hah, bloody put it in already, Ghost!” He spits out frustration too much to handle. Ghost chuckles at the impatience, obliging his demand by slowly putting his finger in.

Agonizingly slow. “Ghooooossst.” Soap says firmly, impatiences eating him alive. Ghost swiftly takes the finger out causing Johnny to gasp and whimper at the loss. “Ghost, please.” He whines. Ghost’s smirk only growing bigger.

“I get to set the pace, Johnny.” Soap turns to Ghost with furrowed eyebrows, “but-“ Ghost cuts him off by shoving his finger back in him. “Ah-!” Soap clinches his pillow for anything to keep him grounded.

Ghost starts to pump his finger in and out. He inserts another finger and fastens his pace. Johnnys eyes shut tight as his mouth opens in pleasure.

Ghost decides to add a third finger making Johnny unconsciously spread his legs wider, welcoming the addition. “Fuck, you’re so tight…” Ghost gasps at the tight fit, imagining what Johnny must be feeling.

“Simon…” Johnny whispered overwhelmed with pleasure. Butterflies formed in Ghost’s stomach at the sound of his name. He starts moving his fingers again, this time going slow. Soap tilts his head closer to Ghost fighting how overwhelmed he is.

Small moans escape Johnny’s lips as Ghost starts to quicken his fingers. Ghost melts at the sounds Soap is making for him.

“UH! Fuuuuccckk…” Ghost is knuckles deep in Johnny now. His fingers making sinful sounds as they go in and out of Soap’s tight pussy.

Ghost starts rubbing Johnny’s dick as he gets closer to his climax. “Fuck fuck, Simon!” He yells as he reaches his high. Ghost thrusts his fingers a few times before slowing down. He keeps his fingers there for a few seconds as Johnny catches his breath.

Soap whimpers as Ghost removes his fingers and puts them in his mouth. “Do I taste good?” Soap asks teasingly as a big smile forms on his face.

“You taste amazing.” Ghost answers after sucking his fingers clean.

[itwas50yearsagotoday]

My Top 125 songs of 1973

12/31/23: Greetings! This is my last annual top songs list, the Top 125 songs of 1973, as I will be retiring the blog when I turn 50 in seventeen days. It's been an awesome journey all-around, but lets stick with '73 on this post. Only one song asterisked this year as a new-to-me song. All of these songs rate 82 out of 100 or higher (see previous post somewhere that describes my rating system). One of the themes I've been discussing over the year is decline, that is the decline in quality of mainstream artists' material--sometimes this is just slightly less, and other times it is a major decline. Probably the worst offender is Deep Purple, who released a huge stinker of a record following arguably their best effort; Yes also is in this category with their four-side ugly behemoth. Then there are just slightly inferior records like Houses of the Holy, Quadrophenia, and Goats Head Soup. That said, there are several artists that released excellent records like Pink Floyd, EL&P, Elton John, Neil Young, Blue Oyster Cult, Paul McCartney (Wings), Genesis, Steely Dan, Roxy Music (x2!), Caravan, Stevie Wonder, Black Sabbath, Mott the Hoople, the Stooges, and, of course, Gentle Giant. Finally, 1973 would feature many newbies including Aerosmith, Bruce Springsteen, and Billy Joel. One may ask 'where are all the women?'… yes, it's a travesty, I know. Thankfully this would get much better over time. But for now, here's my top 125 of the year that was 1973:

10CC 'Rubber Bullets'…like Steely Dan and Sparks, some good old SmArt Rock here… great story song too about a jail riot

Abba 'Ring Ring'…too bad we can't get more into Abba on this blog, but at least you get a taste here

Aerosmith 'Dream On'… song wasn't a hit until a couple years later… probably the one Aerosmith song EVERYONE knows (even my teenage sons)

Aerosmith 'Movin' Out'… as sinister as B.O.C. but they mean it!

Aerosmith 'Somebody'… now there's a dirty-ass opening riff

Alice Cooper 'Unfinished Sweet'… I dig the James Bond shit in the middle; they shoulda used his song for The Man With the Golden Gun

Brian Auger 'Happiness Is Just Around the Bend'… in all the darkness of this year, a more friendly tune

Roy Ayers 'Coffy Is the Color'… blaxploitation fare at its best

Bachman-Turner Overdrive 'Let It Ride'… I like the frequent mood changes in this essential Classic Rock tune

The Beach Boys 'Sail on Sailor'… the last Beach Boys song that we can take as serious art? maybe… but what about 'Kokomo'?

Black Sabbath 'A National Acrobat'… Iommi just tears it UP on this song, probably my favorite Sabbath song ever

Black Sabbath 'Killing Yourself to Live'… an anti-drug song, how ironic

Black Sabbath 'Sabbra Cadabra'… quintessential Sabbath riff and fast-paced melody

Blue Ash 'Abracadabra (Have You Seen Her?)'… Power Pop strikes again--if any interest in this genre, the album is a must-listen

Blue Ash 'Wasting My Time'… doing their Beatles impression, much respect

Blue Oyster Cult '7 Screaming Diz-Busters'… don't know what it means, don't care… the slow-down in the middle is too cool

Blue Oyster Cult 'Baby Ice Dog'… owoooooooo!!!

Blue Oyster Cult 'Hot Rails to Hell'… feels like it says it is

Blue Oyster Cult 'The Red & the Black', 'O.D.'d on Life Itself'… I usually combine these two songs as they flow into each other nicely… great way to open BOC's arguably best record

David Bowie 'The Jean Genie'… classic Bowie blues rock stomp

Tim Buckley 'Stone In Love'… a pretty good place to start with Tim Buckley, but don't expect the rest of his material to be this accessible

Budgie 'Breadfan'… Metallica's cover is great, almost as great as the original by this underrated power trio

Buffalo 'Sunrise (Come My Way)'… the only new song on this list that I didn't know before… it's pretty epic*

Captain Beyond 'Evil Men'… a little bit Sabbath, little bit BOC

Caravan 'C'Thlu C'Thlu'… one of my favorite songs ever, they get the marching of the beast during the bridge just right

Caravan 'Hoedown'… funny, EL&P had their own 'Hoedown' in '72, but a completely different song… not sure which is better, as both are fun little prog workouts

Caravan 'Memory Lain, Hugh Headloss'… this tune sounds like it could be the soundtrack of an epic journey, or maybe a lavish game show

Chicago 'Feelin' Stronger Every Day'… talk about a mood-booster, seriously… the song is an anti-depressant… the band's A.M. apex

Chicago 'Just You 'n' Me'… a Chicago love song before they sucked

Deep Purple 'Woman From Tokyo'… the Purple's last stand… forget anything else that follows it (even on the same album… especially on the same album!)

The Doobie Brothers 'China Grove'… Classic Rock perfectly distilled, I can recall a KSHE rival advertising their station using this song sometime around 1990

The Doobie Brothers 'Long Train Running'… almost didn't make the list, but it just such a seminal Rock tune… plus it feels like a fucking train

The Doobie Brothers 'Without You'… not as well known by the Doobs, but it's a total rocker, and Johnston's singing sounds great

Electric Light Orchestra 'Showdown'… knowing more about the Move now, I can tell this was an evolution from that sound

Emerson, Lake & Palmer 'Jerusalem'… English poetry turned into a song, turned into another song… if I were unabashedly British this would be my song of national pride

Emerson, Lake & Palmer 'Karn Evil 9, 1st Impression (part one)'… the part you probably don't know but should

Emerson, Lake & Palmer 'Karn Evil 9, 1st Impression (part two)'… the part you might know, if you're so inclined

Emerson, Lake & Palmer 'Toccata'… a modern classical music song (1960) turned into prog… it works

Faces 'Silicone Grown'… ode to fake boobs… how did THIS song not get airplay on Classic Rock radio? Seriously, they play the shit out of Rod's solo stuff (from Every Picture), but this is a sloppy, drunken masterpiece

Fleetwood Mac 'Hypnotized'… height of Bob Welch's involvement (he should be in the R&R HOF with the rest of the Mac incarnations, fucking morons)

Funkadelic 'Nappy Dugout'… not enough Black music on this list, but this is a great funk song--quite a title, ahem

J. Geils Band 'Did You No Wrong'… dig the tappy-tap shoes at the beginning

Genesis 'Dancing With the Moonlit Knight'… takes a minute to get going but worth the journey, excellent album opener

Genesis 'Firth of Fifth'… Genesis' best song, bar none… Hackett's guitar solo is something to behold--goosebumps, man

Gentle Giant 'Runaway'… clever intro with the glass breaking to the beat

Gentle Giant 'Way of Life'… progressive rock that defies description… the song's got this frantic, almost-Disco like, drumbeat at the beginning, but turns into a beautiful wall of sound by the end, one of this weirdo band's greatest

Gong 'The Pothead Pixies'… yep, they are

Grand Funk Railroad 'We're an American Band'… yep, they are!

Hall and Oates 'Abandoned Luncheonette'… besides kinda corny lyrics in the verses, it is the chorus that just rules with those faux-Buckmaster strings, holy shit the shiver

Hall and Oates 'She's Gone'… the duo's first hit, and wouldn't be their last (duh!)

Herbie Hancock 'Watermelon Man'… this whole jazz-funk album is uniformly excellent, but this workout is probably the most accessible

Hawkwind 'Brainbox Pollution'… perhaps one of the greatest B-side singles ever

Lee Hazlewood 'Poet, Fool or Bum'… "Bum!" (stole that from a critic describing a contemporary album review)

Billy Joel 'The Piano Man'… where it all started for Mr. William Joel

Elton John 'All the Young Girls Love Alice'… this album rocks, and this is a quintessential number from it

Elton John 'Bennie and the Jets'… a song I've both loved and loathed and loved again, one of EJ and Bernie's best

Elton John 'Funeral For a Friend / Love Lies Bleeding'… an eleven minute epic worth every second… one of the best album-openers of all time

Elton John 'Grey Seal'… don't skip this very 1973-ish gem--crazy coda!

Kool and the Gang 'Hollywood Swinging'… happy slow funk, if that's possible

Led Zeppelin 'Dancing Days'… I think this side opener comes off as generic initially, but it rewards the listener over time

Led Zeppelin 'D'yer Mak'er'… that's "Jamaica" in Cockney… for 'reggae' it's not bad, and it actually reached #20 on the Billboard charts (!!)

Led Zeppelin 'No Quarter'… LZ not necessarily at their hardest, but perhaps their gloomiest

Led Zeppelin 'Over the Hills and Far Away'… I think this has something to do with Tolkien

Led Zeppelin 'Song Remains the Same'… great album opener for a great album, it rocks (surprised it doesn't get more airplay)

Led Zeppelin 'The Ocean'… perfect album closer (okay after their previous album closer)

Led Zeppelin 'The Rain Song'… can Zeppelin actually write a love song?? Yes they can!!

Lynyrd Skynyrd 'Free Bird'… you know it--the ending jam makes this song a bonafide CR standard

Lynyrd Skynyrd 'I Ain't the One'… kind of an unexpected first album opener for what is essentially THE Southern Rock band par-excellence, as it has all that weird Hendrix-like backwards shit, but then it turns swampy and it's awesome

Paul McCartney & Wings 'Band on the Run'… finally, McCartney making some consistent tunes again!

Paul McCartney & Wings 'Jet'… feels like a dinosaur wandering into your living room

Paul McCartney & Wings 'Live and Let Die'… one of the greatest James Bond themes ever

Paul McCartney & Wings 'Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five'… dig the Moog all over this one, and I like how it ties up the album as a loose concept

Mott the Hoople 'All the Way to Memphis'… some little known R&R that should be more well-known IMO (at least it was in that Scorsese movie)

Mott the Hoople 'Whizz Kid'… simple little song about poor twenty-somethings living in NYC… gotta great melody, and it rocks

The O'Jays 'For the Love of Money'… you probably know it as 'money money money mon-ay… MON-ay!', but don't dismiss because the song gets down and dirty quick… I can't believe this groovy funk-pop song wasn't in a Blaxploitation flick

Danny O'Keefe 'Madgalena'… this is just a purty song here… underrated singer-songwriter

Ozark Mountain Daredevils 'If You Wanna Get to Heaven'… yay, Missouri rock

The Pink Fairies 'City Kids'… some proto-punk fer ya, check out Lemmy's version on Motorhead's first album

The Pink Fairies 'Street Urchin'… the last stand for one of the most unknown-but-awesome bands… it even has kind of a finality to it

Pink Floyd 'Any Colour You Like'… a dream on headphones, Wright vs. Gilmour, then combined!

Pink Floyd 'Brain Damage / Eclipse'… perfect ending for a perfect album--turn the volume way up at the very end!

Pink Floyd 'Money'… always one of my top three favorite songs of all-time… I think it is the 7/4 time that just grabs me, and then the change to 4/4 at the bridge, and back

Pink Floyd 'Speak to Me / Breathe / On the Run'… must be heard together for full effect

Pink Floyd 'Time'… fun to scare the kids with the clocks at the beginning

Pink Floyd 'Us and Them'… Floyd would never again sound quite so lush and lovely

Alan Price 'Sell, Sell'… this ex-Animal has a talent for making somewhat unique and timeless music, and this is no exception… more sinister, kinda filthy and in the gutter

Queen 'Keep Yourself Alive'… where it all started for this World-famous band

REO Speedwagon 'Find My Fortune'… the only time the guitarist would sing on an REO tune, and it's totally sweet sounding

REO Speedwagon 'Ridin' the Storm Out'… original lead singer (sorta) is better on this one

REO Speedwagon 'Whiskey Night'…swampy, dig it, like the Doobies but better (usually it's the other way around)

The Rolling Stones '100 Years Ago'… IMO the most underrated Stones song ever--killer jam at the end

The Rolling Stones 'Coming Down Again'… love Taylor's wah-wahs on this one… the ultimate hangover song

The Rolling Stones 'Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker)'… zeitgeist, baby!

The Rolling Stones 'Silver Train'… I think they're talking about heroin here… or maybe just trains, I dunno

Roxy Music 'Do the Strand'… look for the awesome video of this track on YT

Roxy Music 'Mother of Pearl'… over time this has been my go-to Roxy song--love Ferry's singing here

Roxy Music 'Street Life'… quintessential Roxy thumper

Roxy Music 'The Bogus Man'… Eno could create some crazy sounds back in the day

Seals and Crofts 'Diamond Girl'… blurs the boundaries of A.M. Gold and Classic Rock

Bruce Springsteen 'Kitty's Back'… kind of an unknown tune (overshadowed on the record by 'Rosalita') but I love the swift changes in tone throughout (whispers, then loud horns, etc.)

Bruce Springsteen 'The E Street Shuffle'… if all of Springsteen sounded like this I might be more interested--one of my favorite codas ever

Steely Dan 'Bodhittsava'… hard not to get swept up in the high-speed excitement on this album opener… LOOK OUT!

Steely Dan 'King of the World'… maybe my favorite Dan tune… has this 'cosmic game show score' feel to it

Steely Dan 'My Old School'… one of the first Steely Dan songs I ever heard (some retro-Bandstand video shown on VH1)--for whatever reason this song did not crack the Top 40, but I think it is probably the most representative song of the band's first three albums… great lyrics, great hook, dig the horns

Steely Dan 'Razor Boy'… some excellent lyrics about a woman who is trying to look classier than she is

Steely Dan 'The Boston Rag'… a slow burn of a song, but the guitar solo by Denny Dias (or it could be Skunk Baxter, not sure) just rips a hole in the pleasantness

Steely Dan 'Your Gold Teeth'… they did 'Do It Again' again, but better… much better!

Iggy & the Stooges 'Gimme Danger'… again, sinister is a theme in 1973 music… but somehow this song seems just a bit out of time, like it could have been made much later

Iggy & the Stooges 'Penetration'… when I first heard this song I didn't like Iggy's breathy growls but they've grown on me

Iggy & the Stooges 'Raw Power'… more proto-punk

Iggy & the Stooges 'Your Pretty Face Is Going to Hell (Hard to Beat)'… even more proto-punk

Styx 'Lady'… the guiltiest of guilty pleasures, I absolutely know all the words

T. Rex 'Tenement Lady'… barely made this list, but I really like the groove of this tune

Three Dog Night 'Shambala'… perhaps the best A.M. Gold song of all time… it's that high note: "TELL ME HOW!!!"

The Who '5:15'… one of Keith Moon's greatest drumming performances

The Who 'Bell Boy'… Keith sings too!!

Wizzard 'Bend Over Beethoven'… this tune did not make the album (I think it was a UK single) but it's possibly the most accessible Roy Wood song out there

Stevie Wonder 'Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing'… another out-of-time song, from Stevie's masterpiece record… love the excited Spanish spoken intro

Stevie Wonder 'Higher Ground'… an unending argument in my head is which song is better, this one or the RHCP cover?

Neil Young 'L.A.'… Neil's snarky ode to Los Angeles

Neil Young 'Time Fades Away'… another theme of this year as there are a lot of 'best song by' fill-in-the-blank… here's another one, and I don't care if Neil hates it, it's one of his most depressing yet somehow upbeat songs… works perfectly in the live setting

[chayacat]

Road96: Shandara’s Land (7)

Fandom: Road96

Rated M for Language and Violence.  

***

The shots echoed in the air. And the road seemed endless. Yet Stan sped up to escape Yung's soldier. Jarod and Mitch were shooting at the trucks, at least the tires in order to slow them down. But being on the move, it was complicated. Anna was protected from fire by Jarod. They had to hold on until John and Fanny arrived. The problem being that being on the move all the time, they often changed course.  

“Daggnabit! They are tenacious!” said Stan

“We can’t touch them. We all are in movement” said Mitch, reloading his brother’s Shotgun.  

“It means that they can’t touch us too...for now. We must escape them.” said Jarod, reloading too.  

“Count on me. Hold on tight!” Said Stan going more faster.  

He was determined to not let them get close to them and arrest them. He suspected what would happen to them if Yung's soldiers fell on them. And it was out of the question for him to lose his brother, let alone Anna. And for once, he also had a little worry about Jarod. But just a little. Shooting resumed on both sides, with one of the bullets passing close enough to Jarod for him to hear it whistle. The latter gritted his teeth before shooting, hitting one of the soldiers. Mitch had also hit soldiers, and during his two shots, a tire of one of the trucks deflated. Mitch laughed before reloading the shotgun again.  Anna looks behind her as she sees one of the trucks being slow, passing behind the other two.  She couldn't help but feel joy.

“Good job Mitch!” she said.  

The shots continued to fill the air, each trying to fill their functions. Yung's soldiers were shot, injured. But suddenly, it was Jarod who found himself injured in the arm, the bullet scratching him. He put a hand on his arm while swearing between his teeth but was not demoralized.  

“Are you okay??” ask Anna worried.

“Just...just a scratch. Don’t worry.” said Jarod.  

*Peach fuzz?? Are you there??” said suddenly Fanny on the talkie.  

“Fanny! We're pursued by the soldiers of the Purple Lynx! We're not going to be able to last forever!” said Anna worried.  

*Hold on tight Youngblood! We’re on our way! * Said John.  

“we’ll try to...”

“Stan! We need to get faster!” said Mitch.  

“Like I didn’t know Mitch! We're already as fast as the bike can! If I go even faster, it won’t last long!” said Stan.  

“Stan look out!” replied Anna pointing at a sign indicating that the road was closed.  

A sign indicating that the road was closed. Stan skidded a big way and turned right onto the new road. The trucks continued to pursue them at high speed, although one of the three was further back.  

“They don't want to let us go huh?? I won't be able to distance them for much longer!” said Stan.  

Suddenly, they heard a truck. Arriving from the west, John's truck stood side by side with them, fanny opening her window.  

“Peach fuzz!” she said.  

“Fanny! Thank God you’re finally here! We couldn't have lasted longer!” said Anna.  

“Get on the back! I'll open the door!” shout John.

Stan nods, and slow down to get just right behind the truck. Sonya who was inside, open the doors and deploys the ramp to allow them to ride with the motorcycle in the truck. Sonya with the help of Mitch closes the doors of the truck.

“Thank goodness you’re alive. Are you okay?” she asks.  

“We Are. Jarod is wounded, but we will take care of him when we will be safe.” said Anna.  

“Sonya are you insane?? You can be hurt!! Why didn't you stay at the hideout??” says Stan worried.  

“Staying safe while my brothers, my only family left to me are in danger?? No way! If something had happened to you, I would never forgive myself.” replied Sonya.  

“And so do I if something happens to you and Mitch. So, be careful, okay?”

“And you too.”

Shots continued to fire at the truck. Yung's soldiers now outnumber them by motorcycles and other vehicles. The group looked in the direction of the doors. They must get rid of them, or they will end up being killed.  

“How are we going to get rid of them?” said Jarod calmly.  

“Simple. We shoot them.” said Sonya taking the nail gun.  

“Wow wow wow ! Stop! Sonya you’ll never hold a...” starts Stan.  

“Well, now is the right time to learn!” she replied, interrupting him.  

“...okay.”  

“Are you sure? Jarod you’re hurt...” asks Anna.

“I’ll be fine. But thanks for worrying about me.” says Jarod with a tiny smile.  

He stands next to Stan and Sonya, while looking at the door. The three glanced at each other, before nodding and with a sharp blow, Stan opened the back doors of the truck, starting to fire his shotgun. Jarod did the same with his revolver, while Sonya aimed and fired the nail gun. Mitch brought Anna to safety behind boxes. Fanny joined them in the back and used her official weapon to help the trio. Yung's soldiers fell one by one. The motorcycles were crushed under the wheels of the trucks, and soldiers fell to the ground. Stan was wounded in the arm, holding it while swearing. But he resumed the assault with rage. He will not let anyone get killed. Absolutely nobody. John sped up as best he could and arrived after a while, silence began to be made on the road. He fell completely after Yung's last truck fell to its side, the wheels punctured, and the carcass riddled with bullets.

“Finally...that was the last one.” said Stan holding his wounded arm as he seats down.  

“Stan...” said Sonya worried.  

“Don’t worry little sis. I’ll be fine.”  

“We will treat you both at the hideout.” said Mitch looking at Jarod et Stan.  

They both nod beofre looking at each other. None of them speak for a few minutes, then Stan sighs and break the silence, holding his hand to Jarod. The latter look surprised at him.  

“Thanks...for protecting Sonya... and Anna. I hope your injury is not too serious.”

“...I hope you too.” simply responds Jarod, shaking Stan's hand. “And you’re welcome. We’re on the same camp, after all.”

“Yeah...you’re right.”  

The truck droves back to the hideout. The peaceful silence filled the truck during the journey. Sonya had fallen asleep, her head resting on Mitch's shoulder. Anna had done the same on Stan's. The latter could not help but smile under his hood. She looks so peaceful... so fragile... so adorable. He could give up everything, he could sacrifice everything to protect his family. And even more protect Anna. If this is what is called love at first sight, then Stan has fallen in love, madly in love with Anna.

But it's something he's never experienced before. How can he handle it? How do you not do or say something that embarrasses them as much as the other? And above all... How and when will he be able to confess it to her? He must find or wait for the right moment... But how will he know? Far too many questions cross his mind, so much so that he jumps slightly when he feels a hand on his shoulder.  

“Hey...if you continue to look at her like that, you're almost going to devour her with your eyes.” said Mitch.

“...Sorry. It’s just that...she looks so peaceful, so sweet. I...I... I think I'm in love Mitch. I’m truly in love.” said Stan.  

“Oh, what a surprise...I didn't see it coming” replied his twin joking.  

“Was...Was it that visible?”

“For her I don’t know, but for me...I’m your Twin Stan. I can read in your mind like an open book. I feel when you’re not good or when you're happy. So, for me it was obvious that you were in love in her. “

“Heh...I guess I can’t hide anything from you, can I? But I don’t know Mitch...I never experienced that before.”

“Don’t worry. Things will come to you with time. Don’t rush, stay patient. And then you’ll see.”

“...Thanks, baby bro.”  

“Hey! I told you to not call me like that!”  

Stan laughs silently so as not to wake up his sister and Anna. The truck arrived after a few hours at the hideout, and everyone was able to get off. The first thing to do was to treat the wounded. Which Anna and Sonya did quickly. Sonya took care of Stan, while Anna cared for Jarod's arm. The latter says nothing, it feels nice to have someone caring for him...for once. The last person who cared that much for him was...Lola. Even if their relations were...complicated at the end...she was always worried about him.  

“Does it hurt?” Ask Anna.  

“No...” simply responds Jarod.  

“...I... I'm sorry. You’ve been hurt because of me...if...if I didn’t involve you in this...”

“Then you’ll be dead, and the world would have lost her most precious explorer of the world. Don’t feel bad for me...I rather lose an arm, rather than a friend...Who could have been my daughter...” replied Jarod. He never talked so much...and yet he was...sincere, and relaxed.  

Anna looked at him in surprise before smiling. Once the care was finished, everyone went about their business. Alex had an idea to improve John's truck. An idea that would allow them to better defend themselves. Fanny could foresee the weapons, going to the police station. But she will have to be discreet. Luckily for her, she still has some contact there.

Sonya and Anna were dealing with the discoveries Anna had made in the Shandarian garden. It never looked like that, but Sonya was so smart as she let it seem. She acted as she did just so she could keep her job. But once she got home, it was quite different. She had the same touch of madness as her brothers. If I could give you one piece of advice, it would be to never underestimate the Sanchez family. They are much more than you think.  

Now it's time to get to work.  

For everyone.  

***  

(I started a game of Hogwarts Legacy again and this time I'm an adorable little Hufflepuff! I think after doing Slytherin and finally Gryffindor. But I must admit that each house gives me a favorite: Garreth for Gryffindor, Amit for Ravenclaw, Sebastian and Ominis for Slytherin, and Poppy for Hufflepuff. I love them so much... So, what about you? I hope you’ll like it like the other ones! Feel free to tell me what you think about it! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)  

[junuve]

as soon as the beanie hat goes back on sale in the gemstore, my guild wars 2 john freeman cosplay will be complete

and no one will be safe in /say or /map

no one

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,921 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: prison era Warnings: language, serious injury, violence, gore, angst A/N: SURPRISE ONE SHOT! I LOVE being able to roll two requests into one for ya'll! Hope you love this! Requested by:Anon and anon! Summary: The group goes to rescue Daryl from Woodbury and must deal with the consequences.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Jesus Christ. Rick…” Your eyes were fixed on the makeshift arena, ringed with elevated torches. Boisterous and angry crowds were screaming and waving their fists. “They’re gonna kill each other.” Your stomach turned.

Rick watched with disgust as Daryl and Merle threw punches and tussled in the arena.

“Are those walkers?!” Maggie asked urgently in a harsh whisper.

Men with long grappling tools were bringing in some of the dead, closing in around Daryl and Merle. “Yeah,” Rick growled, his jaw clenching.

Your heart was pounding so fast it was just a whir in your chest. Your hands clenched on your weapon. “Fuck this,” you said, squeezing off a few rounds which caused several of the walkers’ heads to explode and the bodies to crumple to the ground. Screams and chaos broke out but you could still make out Merle and Daryl back-to-back in the center. Rick tossed a flash-bang smoke bomb into the arena and more shooting started in earnest.

You dashed across the narrow space from the dumpster you were all using as cover and took up a position behind a concrete balustrade, squinting as you tried to see through the drifting clouds of smoke. But even with your eye to the scope of your gun, it was nearly impossible to focus on anything. The crowds of people running were just a blur of colors and dim shapes. “Where are you, you son of a bitch?” You growled through gritted teeth. You were looking for him, the Governor. But you were also looking for Daryl. “Fuck!” You dropped the scope and squinted again into the darkness. There was more shooting as Rick and Maggie dropped a few of the Woodbury militia toting weapons.

You couldn’t see Daryl. Where was Daryl? Rick must have known what was on your mind because he glanced across the gap at you. You were on your feet but still hunched over, looking like you were ready to run. “Y/N. Don’t! Y/N!” But it was too late. You made a dash out from your cover, dodging bullets being fired almost blindly from some of the Governor’s men, and rushed toward the arena.

“DARYL!” You yelled it into the smoke and ducked behind a low concrete wall. Pressing your back into the rough material was almost grounding. You could almost feel some of the bullets whizzing past your hiding place. “DARYL!” The ringing in your ears from all the gunfire was so loud it was hard to even hear which direction the shooting was coming from.

Somewhere in the smoke, he heard you and straightened up from a figure he’d just thrown to the ground. “Y/N?!”

You heard his voice. “DARYL?” You fired off a few rounds and took out a walker and a woman with an assault rifle. “OVER HERE!”

“Merle! Let’s go! This way!” The archer spotted a guard with his crossbow and surprised him, grabbing it from him without slowing. “Y/N?!”

You popped up to shout to him again, but a spray of bullets in your direction had you dropping down again and swearing under your breath, gasping a little from the close call. “Fuck! Oh, shit…”

You heard Rick calling to you and Daryl, and looking back toward the dumpster you saw the beam of his flashlight. You unstuck yourself from the concrete behind you and, keeping low, dashed back to Rick and Maggie. “Daryl?” you asked urgently as Rick’s hand on your back pushed you toward the darkness ahead.

“He’s right there! Go!” Rick said.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Daryl running full-speed toward you, his crossbow in his hand. You couldn’t help smiling at him as he finally slowed beside you. “Are you alright?!” you asked, searching him for injuries. “Daryl, your face—” He had red welts raising on his face from Merle’s hits.

“‘M fine. Are you?” he drawled back.

That’s when Merle finally spoke up and the smile on your face completely disappeared. “We ain’t got time for a goddamn cozy catch up! Follow me!”

Daryl hazarded a glance at your face and it seemed to darken before his eyes. “C’mon,” he prodded you gently, adjusting his bow in his hands. “We gotta get outta here.”

Your group followed Merle to a section of the outer wall, which he bashed open with his metal prosthetic arm. You felt a hot stitch in your side and your eyes whirred anxiously over the street ahead until Rick whistled for you to follow the others out and through the wall. Daryl was the last out, covering your back as you stepped out of Woodbury.

Then it was a frantic run to get away and back to Michonne and Glenn. You soon felt like you couldn’t run anymore and your lungs felt tight, burning from exertion. But you kept pushing, clutching an arm around your middle to press at the stitch which was threatening to double you over. At last, the vehicle and Glenn and Michonne came into view. But the next moment it was all chaos as they realized who had come back with Daryl.

Daryl planted himself in front of his brother as he and Rick tried to talk them down. Gun and sword drawn, there was so much yelling you couldn’t even make out the words. You and Maggie stood slightly apart, both sickened at the sight of Merle after the role he’d played in serving you up to the Governor, but unwilling to engage in any physical altercation after the intensity of the scrape you’d just gotten out of.

Suddenly, the stitch in your side became a stabbing, hot pain. You wrapped your arm around yourself and pressed your hand to it and then your knees hit the forest floor. Your gun dropped off your shoulder and clattered to the ground. This finally shut everyone up and redirected their attention. Daryl was beside you in an instant, all thought of his brother vanishing immediately, his face clouded with concern. He watched as you peeled your hand away from your side revealing that your palm was sticky with deep crimson. It was then that you realized that your shirt was soaked with blood. The stitch in your side wasn’t a stitch: you’d been shot.

You collapsed back onto the ground and the fire in your lungs seemed to increase, and suddenly you were having trouble breathing. Your heartbeat was pounding loudly in your ears, almost dorwning out any other sound. Daryl’s face was pale above yours.

“Shit. Shit! Alrigh’. Alrigh’,” he murmured, examining the wound. “It ain’t that bad, okay? Yer—yer gonna be fine.” The others were suddenly all around you, too, everyone except Merle, who was still standing with his back leaned up against a tree, watching the scene before him unfold, his eyes fixed mainly on his brother.

Your eyes widened as your lungs seemed to stop drawing air. You reached out and gripped onto Daryl’s arm hard. “Can’t—breathe—” you gasped. You were barely able to get the words out and your voice was constricted and raspy. You felt like you were suffocating. Daryl saw growing panic in your eyes.

“Just relax—s’okay! Y/N! Listen t’me. S’gonna be alright. Yer gonna be fine!” But you could read your own panic reflecting in his eyes now. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight.

Maggie dropped to her knees beside you and looked at the wound and your pale face which now seemed to be graying. “I need a clean knife and some tubing or somethin’. A pen, a water bottle nozzle, anythin’!”

“I think there’s something in the car!” Glenn said, rushing clumsily to his feet.

Daryl had your hand pressed between his and was leaning over you looking desperate. You flinched as Maggie applied pressure to the bullet wound in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Your breathing was coming in shallow gasps as you looked up at Daryl. You tried as hard as you could to get the most important words out. “Keep—going—” you gasped. Your voice was thin.

Daryl shook his head. “No. No, Y/N. Yer gonna be fine. Yer gonna be fine!” His blue eyes glistened with tears.

You couldn’t draw any more air and clutched your free hand to your chest. The pain was excruciating.

“Y/N! Y/N, ya gotta make it. Ya gotta fight! If ya die and I live—I got nothin’! Yer gonna be—yer gonna be fine—”

“Got it!” Glenn skidded back to the ground beside Maggie, a pen in hand. She hurriedly disassembled it.

“Knife,” she said. Rick handed her his small hunting knife. She cut through your shirt so she could better see the wound. There was the bullet hole, right in the middle of your ribs on your side. She prodded just below it with her fingers and Daryl watched as she lined up the tip of the knife between two of your ribs.

“What the hell are ya doin’?” He asked urgently. “Maggie! What the hell are ya—”

“Hold her still,” Maggie snapped.

“What’re ya—”

“Daryl! Hold her still!”

He gulped and obeyed, realizing suddenly that you seemed to be heading toward unconsciousness, your head lolling to the side. Your face was an alarming shade of grey-blue. You couldn’t breathe. Daryl grasped your shoulders and pressed your back into the ground. With a quick jab, Maggie stuck the knife into your side, below the wound, which was still bleeding heavily. You jerked once and then fell unconscious. “Glenn, gimme that pen!” Maggie inserted the tube from the pen into the incision she’d just made and there was the sound of a rush of air and some blood came trickling out. But Daryl watched in relief as your chest started to rise and fall again and slowly the color returned to your face, although your brow remained clammy with sweat.

“Wh—what the hell was that?” he asked Maggie.

“She has a punctured lung. Air built up around her lungs until they collapsed and she couldn’t breathe anymore. I’ve seen my dad do this,” she explained. “On our neighbor once after he fell off a horse.” She climbed to her feet and turned to Rick. “We gotta get her back to my dad now.”

Rick nodded and everyone was a blur of action. Daryl scooped you up as gently as he could and carried you to the vehicle, slipping into the middle seats with you still across his lap. Everyone else was throwing gear in the back and piling in where they could. Merle finally straightened up and paced toward the vehicle. “Well, hey! What ‘bout me?” he asked, arms extended.

Glenn moved toward him like he was about to pick a fight but Maggie grabbed his arm gently. “We ain’t got time for this. She ain’t got time.” Glenn stopped and climbed into the back beside Maggie. Michonne slid into the front passenger seat.

Rick shot a glare at Merle as he finished loading the gear and slammed the trunk. “You can walk. If you make it, we’ll think about what to do with you,” he growled.

“Hey, now! Little brother, you ain’t just gonna let them leave me out here? Hey!” But it seemed as if Daryl didn’t hear anything. He was too busy accepting a spare bit of fabric from Maggie and trying to press it to the bullet wound in your side to stop the bleeding.

He stared down at you desperately, totally silent, as Rick floored the vehicle as fast as he dared and it leapt over the asphalt. Every bump jostled your head and your body stayed limp in his arms. The ride felt both infinitely long and abruptly short. He couldn’t help brushing his fingers through your hair, wiping the beads of sweat on your clammy skin. He felt suspended above himself, looking down at this nightmare of a scene. The vehicle finally slowed and Daryl glanced up, away from your face, to see the prison beyond the gates. Carol and Carl pulled them open and the car rumbled through. Rick sped up to the prison and everyone rushed to climb out.

“I’ll get my dad and we’ll start gettin’ ready. Bring her in,” Maggie said, her feet barely on the ground.

“Do you need help?” Rick asked Daryl.

“I got her,” he drawled as he carefully climbed out with you in his arms, your body still limp and the crimson on your shirt now shockingly obvious. His blue eyes finally lifted and met Rick’s. He looked terrified. Rick had never seen that intense look of fear in Daryl’s eyes before and it twisted his stomach into a knot.

He led the way into the prison, holding the doors so Daryl could pass through easily with you in his arms, and soon you met Hershel, Glenn, and Maggie with a stretcher. Daryl rested you down so gently you barely moved as his arms slipped from you. Glenn and Maggie hurriedly pushed the stretched back into the cellblock and into the area where they kept all the medical supplies. Daryl was standing beside you, his hands clenched together with white knuckles as he watched helplessly as chaos erupted around you. You were the only thing not moving. Hershel grabbed a tank of oxygen and a mask and secured it over your face. Daryl shifted anxiously, feeling sick and lost as he watched Hershel listen to your lungs and take your pulse before examining the wound in your side.

His expression was grim when he looked up at Rick and the sheriff gulped and glanced over at Daryl. Daryl seemed to be in a daze, his eyes fixed on your face. “How bad?” Rick asked in an undertone.

“Maggie did the right thing with the chest tube. She has a punctured lung. Whether that’s because of the bullet itself or a fragment of bone as a result of the bullet I can’t say. And I need to stop the bleeding soon. Her pulse is weakening and she’s losing color. She needs surgery, but—” he broke off.

Rick straightened up and nodded, encouraging him to go on, even with the bad news.

“It’s unlikely I can repair her lung without more advanced medical imaging and better supplies, and with the severity her symptoms suggest it most likely won’t heal on it’s own. But we have no way to really know how substantial the damage is and where exactly the bullet is. If she doesn’t die from blood loss or the punctured lung, I’m worried about infection.”

Daryl’s head snapped up and his face clouded with a shadow. “What do you need to make sure she—? I’ll get it. I’ll go out right now and get it.”

Hershel frowned. “It’s not that simple, son. We need an operating theater. X-ray machine, ventilator, and electricity to run it. And we don’t have time to wait. I need to do this surgery now as best I can with what we have. We’ve got antibiotics, sterile instruments, gauze… the best I can do is stop the bleeding and try to get any fragments of bone and bullet out that I can reach. After that, it’ll be up to her.”

Daryl felt his heart tighten into a pit and his eyes drifted back to your still form on the cot. “Then do it. She’s a fighter. She’s tough. She’ll make it.” He wanted to reach for your hand, but he was afraid of how cold it might feel. “She has to make it…” he trailed off.

After that, the chaos resumed. Rick guided Daryl out and away from you with some effort. “You don’t want to see that,” he said. “And they need room to work.” The archer began pacing the length of the room endlessly, chewing on his thumbnail until his finger bled. Carol had arrived from the gate with Carl, and she and Maggie were assisting Hershel. The only thing that Daryl could be grateful for was that they had the supplies from the infirmary to make sure you stayed unconscious and to give you antibiotics in hopes of staving off an infection. But everything else—all the uncertainty—it was crushing him. They had gotten you, Glenn, and Maggie out, but he’d been taken because he’d gone to look for Merle. The whole reason you got shot was because you all had come back to look for him. This was his fault. If you died, it was his fault…

The guilt was making him feel nauseous and he simply couldn’t sit still. It felt like an eternity before Carol came out from the other part of the cellblock. He froze and felt light-headed as she approached. She was wringing her hands.

Daryl couldn’t breathe and was trying to decode her expression before she even spoke.

“She’s made it through the surgery. We got the bleeding stopped and Hershel got a couple fragments of the bullet out, but we didn’t get all of them. The last ones are too deep and he can’t see enough to get to them safely. She has a broken rib, too but he stabilized it. We just have to wait and see now,” she told him.

His throat felt constricted and he was having trouble trying to get any words out. “And—and her lung?”

Tears burned in Carol’s eyes as she thought of your condition and watched Daryl struggling in front of her. She shook her head. “He couldn’t do anything for it. So, we have to hope that her body can heal from that on its own.”

Daryl felt his eyes burning and blinked the tears away, chewing on his bottom lip, biting the inside of his cheek hard to stop himself from breaking down. He nodded, unable to speak at all now from the blockage in his throat. He rubbed a hand over his face and stared desperately at Carol.

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know…” She grabbed him into a hug, but he just stood there, tense under her arms until she straightened up again. She pushed some of his hair away from his eyes affectionately. “You’re right. She’s tough. She’ll fight. We’re going to bring her into a cell, okay?”

Daryl nodded and stepped back from Carol right as Maggie came through pushing you on a stretcher. Glenn was still using a bag to ventilate you as the anesthetic wore off. They pushed the stretcher into the nearest cell and Daryl stepped inside. Maggie gave his arm a gentle squeeze as she passed him, and her eyes lingered on your face for a moment. She was worried. Daryl could feel Glenn’s eyes on him too and he glanced up. “Lemme do that,” Daryl said. “Yer beat up. Go rest.”

Glenn hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I got it.” Daryl took the bag from him and squeezed, pushing air into your lungs. Hershel came in beside him.

“She should be starting to come off the anesthesia soon,” he said in a low voice to the archer. “She’ll start to fight the tube and I’ll need to remove it.”

Daryl gulped. “Ya sure she’ll be able to breathe on her on?” He felt somehow both numb and intense pain at the same time. It felt like someone else’s voice asking the questions.

“She should be able to. We left the chest tube in so no pressure builds up around her lungs again,” Hershel explained.

He was right. It wasn’t five more minutes before Hershel needed to remove your intubation tube and Daryl no longer had to help you breathe, but the oxygen mask remained on your face and Hershel switched over to a new bag on your IV. You didn’t wake up and Daryl stood beside you, finally daring to gently take hold of your hand and warm it in his. Your skin still felt chilled. He turned and pulled a heavier blanket from the bunk behind him and draped it over you. Hershel placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“If anything changes, come and get me,” he said gently. Daryl nodded. When he glanced up, his family was clustered around the door, everyone looking in with the same grim expressions. And that’s when he suddenly realized; Merle. He looked at Rick and unstuck his tongue from the room of his mouth.

“Merle?” he asked. His voice was raspy with emotion.

Rick’s face darkened. “He knows where to find us. We’ll deal with that when it’s time.”

Daryl’s mind raced for a moment as he imagined something happening to his brother while he tried to make it to the prison, but then he came to a realization; none of this would have happened if Merle hadn’t taken you, Glenn, and Maggie to Woodbury. And as much as he was blaming himself, maybe he should be blaming his brother.

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was sometime in the middle of the night and Daryl was still sitting awake beside you. Beth had brought in a chair for him so he could at least sit down while he held vigil. He was fingering the hilt of his knife aimlessly, watching you carefully for any change. Everyone else was either outside on watch or in their cells asleep. The first thing he noticed was that your breath hitched in your chest. He sat up straighter, panic already growing as he stared, willing you to take another breath. Finally, you did, but it was accompanied by you stirring on the pillow, your face contorting a little in a pained expression.

Daryl shot to his feet. “Y/N?” He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “Y/N?”

Your eyes dragged open with great effort and you struggled to focus on anything in the darkness. It took you a long moment to get your bearings and then you lifted a hand and began to pull at the oxygen mask on your face.

Daryl stopped you. “Hey—s’ok,” Daryl said, barely containing his emotion at seeing your eyes open and you moving after so many hours of stillness. “Leave that on. Ya need it.”

You ceased trying to pull it off and turned to try and look over at him. You could barely make him out in the darkness. “Hi,” you rasped out. Your throat was dry and hot, like you’d swallowed a coal.

Daryl pressed your hand more firmly between his. “Hey. How—how’re ya feelin’?”

You considered his question for a moment, trying to determine that for yourself. “Foggy,” you said. “Hurts. Tired.”

The archer’s expression flinched into a pained one briefly before he managed to control it. He nodded. “Lemme get Hershel,” he said. He tried to drop your hand but you squeezed his hard and it stopped him in his tracks. He gave you a questioning look.

“You heard what I said, right?” you managed. “No matter what happens to me, you have to keep going.”

Daryl felt like a hot poker had been shoved between his lungs. He shook his head. “Nothin’ is gonna happen to ya. Hershel fixed ya up. Yer gonna be fine. Ya just need some time to heal up.”

Your eyes flickered between his, which looked deeply blue in the shadow of the evening. “Don’t lie to me.” He ducked his head. “I might be fine, but I can tell there’s a greater chance I won’t be.”

“Y/N—”

“No, listen to me,” you said, pulling the oxygen mask from your face. Daryl could hear a wheeze in your breathing with the effort of talking.

“Put yer mask back on,” he begged, reaching for it. “Y/N—”

“Listen. Promise me, Daryl. You're my favorite person in the world. And I need you to promise me,” you pulled in another wheezy breath and your face contorted in pain again. “You’ll go on and be fine. Better than fine. Promise.”

Daryl finally succeeded in getting the oxygen mask back over your nose and mouth gently and he struggled to suppress the upwelling of emotion in his chest from the way you were talking. But he shook his head. “I ain’t promising that, alrigh’? ‘Cuz yer gonna be fine. And yer my favorite person in the world, too.” His heart was pounding as he hesitated to tell you what had been on his mind since he’d laid eyes on you during the chaos back at Woodbury. “Yer—” he ducked his head and let out a shaky sigh. “I—” But he couldn’t get the damn words out.

Miraculously, it seemed he didn’t need to. You gave his hand a squeeze, strong and firm, and looked up at him with a peaceful expression on your face. “I know,” you said. “Me too.”

You drifted in and out of sleep, and Daryl insisted on keeping watch over you. The others tried to convince him to lay down on the bunk and sleep, but he refused. He was too afraid that if he closed his eyes, you’d slip away.

And then later that day there was a commotion. Merle had found the prison, arriving down at the gate and being marched in at gunpoint by Rick and Carol. They locked him up in a cell and Carol marched straight to Daryl.

One look and he was on his feet. “He’s in the other cell block,” she explained. Daryl glanced down at you. You were asleep and your breathing, though a bit shallow, seemed steady. “Go on. I’ll stay with her.”

Daryl gently rested your hand down on the bed and rushed through the prison. Merle smirked from where he was leaning up against the bars at the far end of the cellblock. “Well, shit, baby brother! Nice of you to come visit little old me.”

Daryl’s chest was heaving with anger.

“What’s the matter with you, sourpuss? Did your little skirt kick the bucket?”

Daryl lunged toward the bars and tried to grab Merle through them but he moved back just in time and let out a whistle and some wry laughter. “Ya best be glad these fuckin’ bars are in the way!” Daryl spat.

Merle smirked. “Or what? You really think you could whoop me, Darylina? Way I see it, we’ve settled that you can’t time and time again.”

“Shut the fuck up, Merle! Yer lucky my people didn’t shoot you on fuckin’ sight for what you’ve done! This shit is all yer damn fault!”

Merle rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Daryl. The archer’s fists were clenched and his chest was still heaving with fury. “I didn’t shoot your beau. Way I see it that’s on you. They came back for your sorry ass.” Merle knew he was striking a nerve as Daryl turned away abruptly and started to stride quickly back to the doorway. “She’s got you wrapped round her little finger, don’t she?” He laughed. Daryl had to resist throwing a punch into the wall as he left his brother behind.

One week later

“Whoa—what’re ya doin’?” Daryl said, quickly climbing to his feet and blocking you from climbing down off the bed. You were weak and Daryl thought you seemed fragile, but you were alive and Hershel had told him this was longer than he thought you’d last. Your lung must be healing. But you still had a chest tube in and you were still on oxygen. Rick and Michonne had had to make a supply run to get more tanks from a nearby clinic. But you were healing.

Daryl slept on the bunk beside your stretcher in case you needed anything in the middle of the night, and he seemed unwilling to leave your side for more than a few minutes at a time.

You gripped onto the rolling IV bag stand which also held the oxygen tank and gave him a long look. “I want to walk around,” you said. Your voice was a little muffled behind the mask.

Daryl scratched his head anxiously. “I ain’t—I ain’t sure that’s a good idea. What if ya fall?”

You cocked your head at him. “Daryl, we both know you’d never let me fall.”

“I—I dunno… Lemme go check with Hershel,” he drawled.

“Don’t check with Hershel. Just help me walk around for a minute. I can’t keep sitting in this bed.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes and he caved, sighing and offering you his hand a little nervously as you climbed out of bed.

“Alrigh’, just—take it easy. Don’t rush. Nice and slow…” You could hear the worry in his voice and you glanced over at him, a small smile on your lips, crinkling the corners of your eyes.

You pulled the oxygen mask away from your face for a moment and looked at him. “What would I do without you?”

He ducked his head and just started to lead the way out of the cell. You stopped him at the threshold.

“Daryl. Wait. There’s something I need to say.” He turned back and met your eyes. Your expression was serious and his heart panged at the sight of you still connected to the IV and oxygen with a tangle of tubes and you still seemed somewhat diminished from all your time in bed. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

Daryl felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d never told you he blamed himself but somehow you just knew.

“It’s not,” you insisted. “I’m—I’m not even sure that I should be blaming Merle as much as I am… It’s his fault. The Governor.”

Daryl gulped and his heart started to race. He still had your hand lightly in his. “When I thought ya were gonna—we thought ya weren’t—” He still couldn’t speak about it. But he didn’t need to. Even when he wasn’t good with words, you always seemed to know what he was trying to say.

“I know,” you said softly. “But it’s not your fault. You have to know that.”

He met your eyes again and turned to square his shoulders with yours. There was something in his expression, some emotion on his face, a softness that seemed to send your entire body tingling. You pulled the oxygen mask off and stared at him. “Kiss me,” you said softly, nervous but also standing on the edge of a precipice you were too happy to plummet into if he’d just give you a nudge. “Please.”

Daryl’s heart jumped and fluttered in his chest. He gulped nervously. “Are—are ya sure?”

You smiled at him and nodded, your eyes looking a little starry and perhaps even glistening a little more than they should have been from the dim light coming in through the high windows. He nervously stepped toward you and you watched as his lips parted a little. He shifted anxiously on his feet and drank in the expectant expression on your face, the shade of your irises, as you looked up at him. Your eyes fluttered closed as he clasped your face, gently like he was cradling thin porcelain he was afraid would crack beneath his touch. His lips met yours softly and you kissed him back eagerly.

It was soft and slow and sweet, but it kindled fires in both your chests and it was far too soon when he pulled back. He took in your expression again and brushed a strand of hair away from your face. Then he stepped back a little begrudgingly, but he didn’t look away from you. You felt your cheeks flushing with warmth and laughed as you pulled the oxygen mask back on over your nose and mouth. “Gotta say,” you said, drawing in a deep breath, “it’s a good thing I have this oxygen right now. I feel a little lightheaded,” you said in a daze.

Daryl’s brow furrowed with concern and you laughed. “In a good way, Daryl,” you said softly. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”

He cleared his throat and awkwardly rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Ya still wanna go on this walk?” he drawled nervously. He felt a little shaky and a little dazed himself…

“Duh,” you said. You let him help you through the cellblock and your family beamed at you to see you up and about, but it wasn’t long before you were tired and sore again and had settled back into bed to rest.

Daryl gave you one final look and couldn’t help a small smile that grew on his lips. “I’ll be back in a bit, alrigh’? Just rest.”

The archer wandered outside and was surprised to see Merle soaking in the sunshine. Daryl had hardly said two words to him since their fight. Merle still got locked into a different cellblock at night, non-negotiable in Glenn’s opinion, but he was starting to earn more and more freedom at least. Daryl’s jaw clenched as his brother started to wander over.

“Hey there, baby brother,” Merle drawled. He seemed to be trying to read Daryl’s mood. “Don’t you think it’s about time we bury the hatchet?”

Daryl faced him, his expression serious. “You best be glad Y/N is getting better. Or you’d be outta here in a second,” he growled.

Merle seemed taken aback for a moment, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Daryl. He held his hands up. “It was just business, Darylina.”

“Nah. I don’t wanna hear anymore bullshit from you. How the fuck could ya do what ya did for that guy? Huh? Ya better fuckin’ find some way to make up for it. ‘Cuz you ain’t my only family anymore,” he spat. “They are.”

Merle let out an exhale that was half amusement and half surprise. “Seems like you’ve grown some great big cojones since Hot-lanta!” He glanced back toward the prison. “This all to do with that skirt? I heard what ya said back then, out there in the woods. That if she died you’d have ‘nothin’,” he said, almost mockingly. “Guess that makes me chopped liver.”

Daryl shook his head. “You’ll always be my brother, but that don’t change the fact that you’ve been a real piece of shit sometimes. And Y/N? She is everything. And she’s always treated me like—like I’m worth somethin’ to her. Tha’s more than I can say for you.” Daryl turned and headed back inside, eagerly making his way back to the cellblock and sinking down at your bedside. You were asleep and he sighed contentedly at the sight of you peaceful on the pillow. Just that sight seemed to take away all the anger and tension from his interaction with Merle. You were everything. And you made him feel like he was too.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Marks of Love | Alex Summers

Summary; the morning after in Alex is peaceful, that is until you leave his room. Then, it’s pretty obvious what the pair of you had been up to.

Warnings; smut, hickeys, swearing, cheesy Alex, mention of virginity loss, swearing, Kurt being an innocent boi

Alex groaned as he forced himself up and out of the bed, he scratched his blonde head, groaning lightly as sun broke through his curtains. “Shit.” He spoke to himself, looking at the time.

He was late. And so were you, considering the fact that you were still in his room, and naked underneath his sheets.

It was against the rules in the X Mansion, for girls and boys to be in one another’s rooms. There was so much freedom in Charles’ open home, everyone was allowed to be their true self.

However, you were all still kids and teenagers. It was something Charles had put in place, but it made Alex feel better, knowing that many others did not abide by it all the time either.

“Last night was amazing.” You stretched your arms out, your voice inclined Alex to look over at you, and clamber back onto his mattress.

“It was.” He spoke, getting pulled back into the amorous serenity, and leaning down to intertwine your lips. “I’m so happy we bit the bullet.” He bit his own lip, his blue eyes gazing into your y/e/c eyes.

“Must have felt good then.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, laughing as he nodded, blushing from the mention of your involvement.

“People say first times are clumsy and messy, but ours... it was perfect.” He smiled, his worry for his lateness to class disappearing.

“Yeah, it certainly was.” He kissed your neck, sucking on the skin and stroking his tongue against it. “Al.”

“I love you.” He mumbled against your flesh, situating himself to lie atop of you, dressed in nothing more than his boxer shorts. As his lips began to move more vigorously, so did his hips, tutting against you with the layering of his duvet between.

“I love you more.” You lulled your head back into the cushion, which smelled just like him, and as he pulled the covers back, leaving you exposed, he removed his boxers, so that he too was dressed in nothing but his own skin.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He mumbled, groaning as there was a harsh knock at the door. “Give me a minute.” As he stood, he pulled on his underwear, wearing just that as he went to the door and opened it just enough so that he could peek outside.

“Dude, why aren’t you in class? We had a test.” Sean reprimanded him, and Havok could only roll his sapphire eyes.

“A test is the last thing that I care about.” And it was currently, he had just gotten laid, but he would not tell his best friend. Sean already figured that Alex and you had already done the deed, from the PDA, it was what a lot of people took from the public interaction.

“Okay.” He shrugged, causing Sean’s gaze to travel down, and he felt a feeling swell in his stomach. Banshee couldn’t hold it for long, he burst out laughing, earning a frown from his friend.

“Nice neck.” The redhead pointed out the dark blotches scattered against Alex’s neck, he no doubted that yours was the same. Alex huffed, his attitude showing well as he clenched his jaw, and rested his arm firmly against the door. “If Scott knew the things that you were doing...”

“I’m not taking a bribe to keep your mouth shut, if my brother’s told, he’s told, simple as.” With that, he shut the door in Sean’s face, rubbing over his own with his palms as he began to return to you.

“Fuck, I studied hours for that test.” You whined, covering your head with a pillow, of which Alex was fast to remove. “I was gonna get all the answers right as well, Jubilee dragged me to the library and we went ham for hours.”

“Talking about going ham for hours.” He wiggled his eyebrows, causing you to snort at his efforts. But nevertheless, you allowed him to continue his intentions, breathing in the smell of sex that had glued to his skin as he leaned over, reaching for one of the drawers of his bedside table, and rifling blindlessly through for a condom.

He plucked it up with his fingers once he had located it, sitting back on his knees as he toyed with the packaging. For the bad boy of the school, your boyfriend sure did know how to be adorable. Instead of wearing his usual smirk, his eyes were squinted, as he tried to open the package.

“Give it here.” You extended your hand, opening the wrapper almost instantly after you had received the foil dressed protection. Alex took it back, holding onto his base as he rolled the condom onto his cock.

The sight of him handling himself had you biting your lip, a hunger growing in your chest. You leant back, waiting for him to clamber over top of you, which he did, as he began to position his tip at your entrance.

“You good?” He asked, placing one of his arms beside your head, enclosing you between him and the luxurious mattress. To answer his question, you jutted your hips towards him, gripping his shoulders, and so, he began to push into you.

Alex remained slow in his pace, stopping for a moment so that you could adjust to his size, only beginning to thrust when he knew that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Oh my.” It felt better than last time, perhaps it was because you had grown and stretched to accommodate him once before. But nevertheless, as your eyes fluttered closed from the pleasure, Alex quickened his administration, cussing himself because of the pleasure.

The two of you had done things before last night, but it was different going all the way. There was something so sensual about having him inside of you, it was as though it connected your souls, or perhaps it just felt that way because of the hormones.

You moved your legs, lodging them either side of your boyfriend’s hips, pulling him closer and deeper. It reviled a groan from his throat, increasing the pleasure for both him and yourself. “Fuck.” He hissed, feeling himself begin to get close, and so he snuck his hand down and past your abdomen, and rubbed your clit.

“I’m cumming.” You informed him in your state of bliss. He too felt near to bursting, he doubted that he could ever feel better, but he could definitely feel predominantly worse.

“Nice neck.” Peter spoke to you, and it only drew the attention of your friends as well. Jean stifled her laughter as she heard your thoughts on how you could kill that fast running bastard, but Kurt was confused.

“Vhat iz it?” He asked curiously, tilting his head as he tried to study the strange marks. They were nothing like the religious symbols that he had crafted into his skin, there was no definition to the. They looked like bruises, and as Alex and Sean walked over, Banshee advocated himself to answer.

“They’re marks of love.” Alex kicked him, causing him to trip. Scott shook his head at his older brother’s behaviour, not surprised even a little by it.

“Just shut up.” Alex sighed, sitting on the grass beside you, and wrapping his arm around you.

“You also have them.” Kurt realised, looking at Storm for answers. Surely she would know, or at least tell him, no one was being specific enough.

“They’re called hickeys.” She sighed. “And it’s what two people give each other when they really really like each other.”

“And I’m going to guess that is why neither of you were in class this morning.” Scott spoke, his expression half unreadable due to the ruby quartz glasses, however, the image of him pretending to puke was far too visible.

“You are correct.” 

“Stay out of my head Jean.” You shook your head at her impulse to do so, it couldn’t be helped, you knew that, but sometimes, you liked some privacy.

“Well... Charles is gonna have a field day giving the pair of you the talk.” Peter said, and it was clear that he had endured that experience far too many times.

[daringyounggrayson]

whumptober day 4: pushed (AO3)

It’s raining. Normally, that’s a non-issue; Dick’s Nightwing suit is mostly waterproof, and his boots are designed to have excellent traction, even in less-than-ideal conditions. But this is pushing it. He’s on top of a moving train, his vision is limited due to the rain and his mask’s broken night vision, and his shoes are struggling to plant themselves firmly on the slippery train roof. And the rain is heavy, coming down in sheets, and the wind is howling, nearly knocking him over on more than one occasion—it’s the worst storm Bludhaven has had in years.

And then there’re the goons trying to knock him off the train. Now their fight has become a strange dance where Dick is trying to dodge blows while also making sure they don’t fall off in their attempts to kill him. The ridiculousness of trying to keep people who are trying to harm him safe is not lost on Dick.

If he could, he’d just stick trackers on them and call it a night, but that’s not an option—there are bombs hidden somewhere in the train and/or along its route. People could die.

A branch from a nearby tree falls onto the train, causing all three men to jump back, seeking cover. Dick nearly slips off again, and from their screams, he’s sure the other two do too. Dick is on his hands and knees, balancing there as he tries to figure out how to use this to his advantage. There’s an entrance a few cars ahead. If he’s quiet and stays out of their line of sight, they’ll probably assume he fell off the train. He could easily get past them and slip inside to stop the train and get everyone off before these two fools can even set off their bombs. Ideally, Dick would also find and disarm the bombs, but replacing a train and some of its tracks is something Dick can live with so long as no one gets hurt.

He lies down on his stomach, army crawling across the train’s roof, letting the branch block him from his enemies’ view. When he gets to the ladder, he slides his legs over the edge until his foot hits a rung. Then he leaps from one ladder to the next, catching the next rung with a tight grip. It would be faster to simply jump across the rooftops, but he needs to be as discrete as possible.

He’s nearly there—just a few yards left to go—when a gun goes off. He instinctively stills and covers his head, and a bullet bounces off the train several feet away from him. Normally, gunshots wouldn’t be a shock in this kind of scenario, but Dick’s already disarmed them, he—

He looks up to find a third partner. He’s just exited from the same place Dick was hoping to enter through, and he’s holding a gun with a shaking hand. Fantastic.

Dick moves like lightning—he charges the man and knocks the gun out of his hand before his trembling fingers can find the trigger.

“How many of your people are here right now?” Dick shouts above the wind, holding the man in a headlock.

“It doesn’t matter. it’s too late,” the man sneers. “You can’t stop us now.”

“That’s what they all say.” Dick swipes his legs and knocks him to the ground, pulling out handcuffs and attaching him to a nearby bar. “But you know what? I kind of like being underestimated.”

Dick stands, planning to walk back to the hatch and enter the train. He hasn’t even taken his first step when heavy footsteps charge toward him. Dick ducks just in time to avoid being body-slammed by one of the goons from the other train car, and the man stumbles, losing his balance and sliding along the length of the roof. He’s quick to get back up and charge Dick again, this time with raised fists and an animalistic screech.

“I’m kind of on a tight schedule here,” Dick calls as he engages in the fight. He really doesn’t have time for this; the train’s picking up speed.

A large gust of wind nearly knocks him over again, and his boots squeak as they try and fail to find traction. The thug lunges at him, tripping over his own feet but managing to land a weak hit against Dick’s shoulder.

It’s ridiculous that it’s enough to send him tipping over the edge.

He tries and fails to find his footing, only managing to slip backward further. He reflexively reaches out for the attacker’s hand, but he forces himself to retract; the odds of Dick pulling him down and killing him are higher than the odds of the man managing to hold their combined weight. As he falls over the edge, the tips of his fingers brush against the train car’s safety bar, but the rain prevents him from grasping it.

He hits the ground, tries to roll with the fall. The initial impact knocks the wind out of him, and he’s left gasping as sharp pain explodes over his head and back. When he finally stops, he’s covered in mud and blood, and every inch of him feels sore. It wasn’t a long fall, but it was fast and hard.

He pushes himself up on shaking elbows, watches as the blurry figures on the roof disappear into the train car. He’s not going to get back there; even if he had the time, even if he had super speed, he doesn’t think he can move. He needs help.

Dick presses his emergency beacon and calls Wally on his comms. He thinks he says something, but he must pass out, because next thing he knows, Wally’s tapping his cheek, begging him to wake up. He’s blurry, which doesn’t make sense, because Wally’s not running—the only thing moving is his hand, and it’s slow.

Instead of voicing his confusion, Dick vomits. Wally rolls him onto his side, talking too fast for Dick to understand.

In between gasps, Dick says, “The train. Bombs.” His voice sounds wrong to his own ears, slurred.

“You’re hurt,” Wally points out, hesitant. His hands are bloody. How did Wally get blood on his hands already?

“I don’t care—you have to save them!” Dick says, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as the pain builds in his head. “Medical is on their way—go!”

oOo

Dick isn’t awake when the medical team arrives, but he does wake up, so he figures they did show up.

He raises his hand to rub at his eyes and finds an IV sticking out of it, stuck to his hand with clear tape. He turns his head, taking in the machines and monitors. He must be in the Watchtower’s ICU.

“Hey,” someone—Wally—whispers on the other side of the bed. “Are you awake?”

“Mmhmm,” Dick mumbles. He turns his head to face Wally, wincing. “Bombs?”

“I took care of it; no one got hurt,” Wally promises.

“Thanks.” Dick closes his eyes. The lights are dim, but they still feel too bright. “How long have I been out?”

“As in unconscious?” Wally sighs, and his chair creaks. “Well, uh, you were in a coma for almost three days. You woke up yesterday, but you’ve been pretty out of it. I’m honestly not confident that you’ll even remember this conversation.”

“Wanna bet?” Dick asks, a loopy smile crossing his face.

Wally laughs. “Sure, I could use ten dollars.”

“I’m going to remember.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am.” This time Wally doesn’t protest, and Dick takes it as a win. After a moment, he asks, “I’m okay, though, right?”

“Oh sure. Spinal bruising and a brain hemorrhage have nothing on the Justice League’s medical technology and your stubbornness,” Wally says lightly. “What happened to you anyway?”

“Got pushed off a train,” Dick mumbles, words slurring together as he gets closer and closer to unconsciousness. “Probably landed head first on a rock.” He can barely remember the fight, barely remembers falling. Instead of a solid memory, it’s just a bunch of non-chronological snapshots.

“That tracks.” Wally shifts in his chair, and his fingers find their way to the back of Dick’s hand. “It was scary, finding you like that. I thought you were going to die.”

And Dick had told Wally to leave him anyway. He doesn’t regret doing it—someone has to make the hard calls—but he doesn’t envy Wally. “I’m fine,” he tries to reassure.

Wally’s voice is tight when he speaks. “Yeah, you’re going to be fine, because you’re you—but you weren’t fine. And you’re still not. Hell, you’re hooked up to a bunch of machines and you can’t even keep your eyes open.”

Dick opens his eyes and finds that Wally’s are shiny with unshed tears. “Wally.”

“Sorry, it’s just—” Wally shakes his head, wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “Uh, can I get you anything? Last time I was here you were nauseous.”

“No, stomach’s fine, just tired.” He must be on a million drugs, too. He wonders how many he’ll have to add to his regimen because of this.

Wally nods, then looks down at his watch when it beeps. “I have to go—Watchtower duty. The rest of the original Titans said they were going to stop by later today, and Alfred and Bruce are outside waiting for me to finish, so you won’t be alone.”

Dick hums in acknowledgment. Then he says, “Thanks for coming, the other day and now.”

Wally leans in and hugs him gently, carefully. “Anytime. And take as much time as you need to heal. Seriously—the Titans will be okay without you for a while, even if Roy ends up leading.”

Dick laughs and nods into Wally’s shoulder, and then they let go. Wally leaves with a promise to be back soon, and Dick, determined to remember this conversation, reminds him to bring his ten dollars when he does.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Land of Thieves #ChapterOne

Western/ Red Dead Redemption AU / Slow Burn / childhood best friends to lovers 

Gif is not mine.

Read on AO3 (English Version) 

Ler no AO3  / “Terra de Ladrões” (Versão Português)

Chapter warnings: explicit language, explicit violence. 

Word count for this chapter:  4002K

Summary:  When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Pt.1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3 || Pt.4 || Pt.5 || Pt.6 || Pt.7 || Pt.8 || Pt.9 || Pt.10 || Pt.11

You were covered in mud and blood when you entered the saloon. Curious and judgmental eyes turned to you, but you didn't stare back. Stretching your back, you felt your whole body ache; the recent beating was sure to leave marks. Walking over to the counter, you threw three gold coins onto the wood, muttering in a mumbled tone "bath" to the saloon keeper. He nodded slightly, showing you the way to the restrooms. As you washed up, you grumbled against the recent cuts, but you were happy to know that you hadn't been shot. Your body ached, but without bullet wounds, you would be better in no time. A pretty girl who worked in the saloon smiled at you when she took your muddy clothes to wash them, and you looked away blushing helplessly. She handed you new clothes before she left. When you finished your shower, you put on the white silk shirt, and beat-up jeans that were handed to you. The boots were not new, but they were comfortable. You also put on spurs, but they didn't give you suspenders, so you left the shirt loose against your body, enjoying the lightness. Attaching your holstered belt to your waist, you checked to be sure your Schofield revolver was clean and locked before you holstered it. You walked to the top floor of the saloon, ignoring the curious glances cast at you on the way. You hoped that no one would recognize you from the reward posters, but you weren't so sure about that, since your face was quite exposed without your hat, which must now be somewhere lost in the middle of New Elizabeth, or on some thief's head. Whistling softly, you walked to the saloon balcony, watching the town below. Valentine is a ranching town, small and not very crowded. Lots of pedestrians, you observe. You light a cigarette as you watch the citizens go about their mundane lives, many opportunities passing before your eyes. You let your gaze wander to the town bank, a few meters ahead on the right of the saloon. You notice that security is low. Making mental notes about everything you could observe from there, you put out your cigarette, returning to the lower part of the saloon, toward the counter. - A whiskey and a beef stew. - You grumble, handing the bartender some coins. He nods in agreement and in a few minutes you get your meal. While you are sitting at the farthest table in the room, you listen attentively to the conversation of two men at the poker table, who have caught your attention. - My cousin saw the carriages in Saint Denis. Four horses in each, and he said that the riders were armed to the teeth." - The skinny man commented excitedly, his friend didn't look so happy. - Those damned bankers are like pests of the soil. You saw what happened to that southern town, I think it was called White Gate. - commented the man with the mustache, his expression frowning. - After the oil ran out, everybody lost their jobs. Stark closed the mine and the citizens began to starve. Almost everyone moved to the neighboring towns. Stark. The name was not strange to you, but you could not tell exactly where you had heard it before. You finished your stew, deciding that Steve would want to know about both the bank and the possible rich men who were visiting the town. Finishing your whiskey in one gulp, you stood up, leaving the saloon just as you collected your freshly washed clothes from the same woman who had brought them. It was hot and humid outside. Knight, your Hungarian half-breed horse, grunted with delight when you stroked his mane. You smiled at him before you mounted. You rode south, figuring you would have no trouble finding the new camp site, and trying to remember Bucky's instructions about where exactly they were. It took some time, but you finally found the camp. You dismounted Knight as you entered the area between the trees, walking calmly to the largest tent. Steve Rogers was like a father to you. When your birth parents died of cholera, you ran away from the orphanage the government put you in, and started living on the streets. You were only seven years old, but you were smart enough to hide in one of the garbage carts when the nuns weren't looking, and you ran away because you couldn't stand being beaten by the older children and your own teachers. You ended up somewhere in West Elizabeth, and while trying to steal some food, you were chased by two officers. But just as they were about to catch up with you, someone knocked them out. You smiled when Steve held out a big piece of bread and water to you. From that moment on, you lived with him. The Avengers gang became your family. Steve took care of you, and trained you as an outlaw. You learned everything that was essential to survive in the Wild West, from hunting to murder. And as the years passed, other people joined the gang, and you accepted them all as your family. When Steve saw you, he smiled tenderly, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief as he motioned for you to enter the tent. - So, kiddo, what did you find out in Valentine? - asked the man as you sat down in the opposite position, on a wooden chair. - They have a poorly protected bank. - You shrugged. - But you know how these small towns are, the risk is almost always not worth the gain. - That's too bad, we need money. Especially to buy medicine. You let out a low exclamation of agreement, you knew exactly how difficult the situation was. It had been a particularly difficult season for the gang. With Fury's death at the last service, and the move out of town to get away from the officers, you were still facing a wave of illness. Carol and Bruce had been feverish and bedridden for days, and Thor had been shot during an unsuccessful robbery. - I overheard an interesting conversation, though. - You say, and Steve looks at you curiously. - Some rich people are coming to Valentine in a few days. The name Stark was mentioned, have you ever heard of it? Steve's eyes widen in surprise and excitement. - Of course I have! - he exclaims. - Filthy rich folks there! Rich enough to lend us a little money without even noticing. - I think Stark is going to buy the oil mines at Heartlands. And he's staying in Valentine while he does the negotiations. - That's excellent. - Steve says, running his hand along his chin in a thoughtful expression. - If the deposit is made in Valentine, we will have the purchase money first hand. You nodded. - But even if the deposit is made here, the money is sure to be transferred to Saint Denis. - You retort, trying to think of all the details of the scam. - Which means that we have to steal the money the same day it is deposited, or we only stand a chance during the transfer. Steve stood up, walking around the tent with the same thoughtful expression on his face. - No, no. - He began to speak as if the alternatives were rapidly forming in his head. - The carriage will be extremely protected. In the gunfire, we can be very worried about not getting killed, which will give them a chance to escape to the city. And then we'll have no way to reach them there. You sighed, knowing that he was right. You frowned, trying to think of something, but Steve soon spoke again. - We need to do this while the money is in the bank. And we have to do it fast. - He says, and then walks to the edge of the hut, looking around the field. He whistles, attracting the attention of Peggy Carter, who is chopping wood, and when she raises her curious gaze to him, Steve beckons her to join him. - What is it, Rogers? - Peggy asks gently. You exchange a smile with her. - We've got a new hit. - He says, making room for Peggy to join you. - Is Bucky around? - He went out hunting a few minutes ago. The twins went with him. - Peggy says and you rest your face on your own hand, waiting for Steve to speak again. - Oh right. I'll explain the details to them later. - The blond man says, walking around the cabin to the table in the opposite corner, and he takes a pen and paper and begins to write down what you think of as a rough draft of the plan. - We will rob Valentine's bank then. - I thought that banks in small towns were not worth the risk. - Peggy commented with a slightly confused expression. - Ah, but we have a unique opportunity. - Steve remarked, bringing the doodle over to Peggy. - Howard Stark, big oil guy, is going to buy the Heartlands mines. The purchase money will be deposited in Valentine before being transferred to Saint Denis. I believe we will have about a few hours to rob the bank - Steve, are you sure this is a good idea? - Peggy assumed a worried posture. - We are short on snipers... - It's a great idea. - He interrupts, looking at Peggy seriously, but still maintaining a calm tone. - We need the money, Peggy. If this is planned correctly, we don't have to worry about the number of weapons. - I appreciate the confidence in my abilities, by the way. - You playfully push your shoulder lightly against Peggy, she smiles at you. - Of course I trust you, Y/N. - She answers, but her gaze is still worried. - We just need to be careful in this job. You spend the rest of the afternoon planning. It doesn't take long for Bucky to join you. He hands a deer carcass to Pietro, who carries it back to the supply hut. Steve repeats the plan, and you let your gaze drift quickly to Wanda, who smiles at you, and you feel something in your stomach drop. Blushing, you look away, turning your attention back to Steve. It is already night when you have finally finished working out the plan. Wanda and Pietro joined you at some point, and you had to mentally repeat to yourself to pay attention to Steve's words and not to the redheaded girl a few feet away. You didn't want your passion to cost your life or put everyone else in danger because you didn't absorb the plan correctly, but you were getting to this level of unfocused. You felt a light tug on your arm as you walked toward the fire, and found yourself smiling wryly as you faced Wanda already looking at you. - I got my first deer today. - She declared, looking up at you with bright eyes, a tone of pride and happiness in her voice. You raise your eyebrows in a pleased expression. - What? That's amazing, Wands. - You replied. - I told you that you would learn soon! I would have liked to have seen it. - We can hunt together. - She says, and you try not to show your nervousness at the thought of being alone with Wanda, but you don't disguise it very well, which makes Wanda confused, and she looks almost disappointed when she quickly adds - Pietro can come with us too. You blink a few times, believing her to be clarifying that she had no intention of spending time alone with you, and swallowing dryly, you nod in agreement. - Yes, yes. Sure, we should call him too. - You say taking a few steps back, hands in your pockets as you stare uncomfortably at the floor. Wanda bites her lower lip lightly, finding you extremely difficult to decipher. You spend a moment in silence, before she speaks again - We can go tomorrow afternoon if you have no business in town. You think about it for a moment, trying to remember if you had made any appointments, if any robbery opportunities had been signaled to you, but you can't think of anything. - No, it's fine. We can hunt tomorrow. - You say, trying not to be too embarrassed by the contented smile Wanda flashes at you. She was probably going to say it was marked, but Pietro interrupted the moment by extending a bowl of stew in front of her face. Wanda blinked a few times in confusion, but thanked her brother as soon as she grabbed the item. Pietro turned to you next, a relaxed posture as he took a sip of the beer he was holding. - What were you two talking about? - he asked, his tone curious. - It's rude to snoop, you know. - You teased, drawing a short laugh from Wanda, and Pietro rolled his eyes stubbornly, but smiled. - We're going hunting tomorrow. I'll show Y/N that I learned how to use the bow on some deer. - explained Wanda, looking at her brother. - Will you come with us? Pietro frowned, denying with his head. - Sorry, little sister. - He speaks seriously, but his eyes have a malice in them that you didn't know how to recognize. - I'd love to join you on your date, but I have an appointment. You and Wanda blush at the insinuation, but Pietro continues with a playful aura as he takes another sip of beer. Although embarrassed, you can't help but be happy to know that you would be spending some time alone with the girl. - Oh, all right. - Wanda says in what seems to be an attempt to sound disappointed, but her eyes sparkle slightly as she speaks. You don't notice, but Pietro smiles at the expression. - You're full of secrets lately. What kind of appointment? Pietro laughs, shrugging his shoulders. He walks toward you with a playful expression, and puts his arm around your shoulders, smiling at Wanda as he leans on you. - Your girlfriend taught me how to play poker and now I am famous, my presence is requested in Rhodes. I need to bet and win some money for this place. You choke slightly on the phrase and feel your face heat up, looking down at the floor. Wanda lets out a nervous laugh, and pushes her brother lightly, making him let go of you. - You mean lose money, don't you? - she teases. - Even Thor plays better than you, and he usually just flips the table. You laugh, risking a glance at Wanda, who has a reddened face and quickly exchanges a smile with you. Pietro rolls his eyes and walks past you, waving goodbye. Deciding that you should eat something, you nod to Wanda that you are going to the fire. She smiles and follows you silently

You didn't hunt very often. Although you were good at it, it was not your function in the camp. You were a gunslinger, and your jobs usually involved carriage robberies and trespassing, even the occasional robbery. You were always part of the team for the big scams. And then Wanda invited you to go deer hunting and you became an anxious mess. Stumbling out of your tent, you hurried to take a quick swim in the creek near the campground. It was important not to smell too strongly when you went out hunting, as the animals could more easily notice you. Coming out of the water with wet hair, you put on your clothes, leaving the suspenders hanging from your waist and a few buttons open on your shirt. You were feeling heated. You waited for Wanda at the campfire. She also bathed before meeting you, and she seemed slightly anxious when she found you. You smiled as you poured some coffee, and Wanda looked a little airy when she accepted the cup. You didn't understand why, but the sight of your relaxed appearance, your loose hair and your exposed collarbone was absolutely irresistible to her, making Wanda feel heated in places that were not appropriate. You joked that soon she would become the best hunter in the camp, and you were happy to make her smile. As you rode out of the camp, you smiled as you felt Wanda lightly tap her foot against yours, as you used to play with as children. Riding in silence for a few minutes, you enjoyed the gentle breeze until you came to a hunting spot. You descended from Knight slowly, stretching your body when you reached the ground. Wanda watched your shirt lift and reveal some skin, then she looked away quickly, her face red. You cast a curious look, thinking she was feeling heat. Grabbing your rifle stored on the horse, you watched Wanda take from Lily's saddle - her red sorrel - a longbow and some arrows. You walked in silence, heading for the shallow part of the creek beside you, where you could easily find deer. It was comfortable to be in Wanda's presence, even in silence. Neither of you had to say anything to know exactly what to do next, your body following her along the way as if you had done this many times before. One look and you knew when to wait, or when to be quiet. It didn't take long before you spotted the deer. There weren't many, and Wanda bent down in front of you to take aim. You watched her with admiration. She raised her bow, and you noticed the slight tremor in her hands and frowned. You came forward, also bent down, and stood beside her. - There's no need to be nervous, Wands. - You whispered softly. - It's just me. The trembling in their hands seemed to diminish, but it was still there. You moved closer, raising your hands to join Wanda's, helping her to keep a steady aim. - Take a deep breath. - You said against her ear, waiting for her to obey. - And then shoot. With her speech, Wanda let go. The arrow cut through the air with speed, hitting the animal straight in the head. A perfect shot. You smiled, and when you looked at Wanda, she was already looking at you. You were about to congratulate her on the shot, but Wanda hugged you by the neck, surprising you. You felt your face heat up and due to the shock, you didn't respond to the hug, your body seeming asleep for an instant. Wanda let you go quickly, her face flushed with apology. You were about to tell her it was okay, and maybe hug her back, then you heard an animalistic noise that attracted your full attention, a low growl that you knew all too well. Glad you had brought your rifle, you looked around, searching for the source of the noise. Wanda blinked curiously, but you didn't look at her again. Standing up, you held the rifle with both hands, your gaze roaming the surroundings. A moment later, the bushes a few feet away moved, and you watched the creature sneak through the undergrowth, only to run toward you the next second, preparing to jump. The sound of gunfire echoed for a few seconds after the shot. You let out the breath you were holding and watched the panther lying on the ground, just a few inches away from your feet. Wanda looked at you in shock, and you offered your hand to help her up. - Sorry for the scare. - You grumbled, walking towards the panther intent on retrieving the skin, which should be worth a few dozen dollars. - We always have to be careful not to become the prey during the hunt. - How did you hear it? - Wanda asked curiously. - Practice I guess. - You said, kneeling down beside the panther. - Every sound around us is important. - You explained - Pay attention now, for example. Besides my voice, what do you hear? Wanda seemed to think for a moment. - I can only hear water, I think. Maybe birds. - She confesses, you finish cutting the skin off the animal in front of you. - Oh, sorry. - You say quickly. - I forgot that I just drove all the animals away with the noise of the rifle. You laugh to yourself, and Wanda smiles at you tenderly. - Let's go after that deer. I'll teach you to hear the sounds another day. - You tell her as you stand up. Walking over to the dead deer, you observe Wanda kneeling beside the animal, drawing her own knife. - Bucky taught you how to skin? - you ask, watching the firm but still amateurish cut Wanda was giving the animal. - Yes, he told me to skin rabbits before he taught me to cut the deer during yesterday's hunt. - said the red-haired girl focused on the activity. You tried not to blush as you watched a drop of sweat trickle down your neck. - I learned to skin animals from him too. - You commented as you waited for Wanda to finish the task. - I was a little smaller, I think. - I guess it took long enough for us to learn how to hunt, didn't it? - Wanda joked, drawing a smile from you. It was true, hunting had been the last activity Steve and Bucky taught you. For some reason, teaching them to shoot was a higher priority than getting food from the wild. A moment later, Wanda finished, raising the deer leather in the air, showing off her work proudly. You laughed at her expression, signaling for her to step away from the animal. You handed her your rifle, and bent down, grabbing the carcass with both hands and throwing it over your shoulders to carry it to the horse. It was quite heavy, but you concentrated your breathing as Bucky had taught you, and managed to carry the animal to Wanda's sorrel. After placing the carcass on the back of the animal, you grunted when you saw the state of your shirt, completely covered in blood. - What's the matter? - Wanda asked curiously when she heard your sigh. - Pepper made me promise not to come covered in blood to the camp anymore. - You say, rolling up your sleeves. - She told me she would put me to sleep with the horses if I showed up like this again. Of course, she will probably just change my watch shifts, but it will still be a pain to hear the lecture. - You could have told me to carry the deer. - Wanda retorted, looking at you with a mixture of seriousness and guilt. You just smiled. - Don't be silly, I just need to clean up before I go back. - You said simply, and Wanda frowned in confusion. And then she choked in surprise, watching you pull your shirt over your head. You went around her body and towards the creek. It took Wanda a few seconds to snap out of her shock, then she turned her head toward the creek, her face flushed. You rubbed the fabric with your hands, watching the blood drip into the water. You put your shirt aside only to wet your own body, wiping any traces of blood from your skin. Completely oblivious to the shy mess Wanda had become as she watched you wash yourself. Finished cleaning yourself, you wrung out your shirt, getting as much water buildup out as possible. You put your clothes back on, feeling the damp fabric against your skin. Wanda stood in the same place you had left her, and you frowned when you saw her look quickly away from you, her face red. You suddenly felt very embarrassed, thinking that you must have crossed some boundary with her. Coughing awkwardly, you walked toward your own horse. You rode in silence back to the camp, you mentally going over the whole conversation trying to find what you had done wrong that made Wanda so quiet. You were surprised when you heard her singing softly. Smiling without looking at her, you slowed down the speed of Knight's gallop, trying to enjoy the moment to the fullest. Wanda continued to sing the whole way, and you tried to ignore the feeling of butterflies in your stomach

[rviner]

He can feel the electricity that sparks from Esje and into his own veins. The shared excitement of the kill, a homage to their predator genes. He laughs to her declaration, but death is simply death to Loki. It doesn’t matter what it looks like, only that it comes. Death is a certainty whether fast or slow, easy or with challenge. It comes to the weak, sooner, merciless and relentless. But, it also comes for them all. A balance that must always be kept, by the edge of a sword or by nature’s course. And right now, he is driven by nothing but his natural instincts. He is alert, to the crisp scent in the frosty air, to the sounds of bullets from the men’s useless guns. To Esje's wild heartbeat and to the sound of men's final screams. He knows that Esje feels unstoppable. Alive and free, just as he does.

Or, so he thinks. Loki reads the hesitation in her eyes when the moment grinds to a halt and she hovers the dagger above the human's throat. The way she looks at him is different now, as if she sees a monster. But he's never felt like one. Loki has always screamed coarse and loud about what he is. Look at what I was made into, look at how you will never be me. Loki's ingrained teachings radiate through his gaze back to her. His head shakes, just solemn and the once at her refusal. "Det er ikke annerledes, Esje." comes his remark, but he approaches when the man begins his struggle.

Loki ushers Esje from him so he can grab the human into his grip, back to chest and facing the other wolf as his pleas fill the air. "Do you think he does not deserve it?" he asks, a genuine curiosity despite his own answer to the question already existing. "They think we are all the same. Are they not, too?" Loki tilts his head to catch the fearful glance in the man's eyes who still struggles and fights with a desperation to live. "Hvis du ikke kan se livet du tar som det går, Esje...da er du bare en fighter og ikke en kriger." he looks to her then, a harsh scowl on his face and eyes full of contempt. "If you want to be someone who fights simply to protect themselves, that is fine. But, I can not teach you that." that will never be his way.

All the while, Loki's eyes fix to Esje and attempt to read every thought behind her eyes. He fails to see any urge of action from her and with a disappointed tsk he reacts for her. His sword is taken, the edge dragged across the man's throat where the spray of blood hisses into the air. The human springs forward, still gripped harshly by Loki's hand as he positions himself to watch the final moments of life. An unmoved expression, save from the small twitch of his lips into a smirk. The minutes might drag for Esje, but Loki savors them until finally the spluttering stops from it's violent sounds into a lighter gargle and the jerking finally relents. The body is dropped then. "Kanskje det ikke var kraft du kjente her om dagen." he decides. "Maybe it was regret."

loki's quips and jests may be able to keep a soft smirk twining the corner of esje's lips, but now it sits over her features for another reason. when her heart catapults into her throat as gunfire resounds, tearing through the peacefulness of new dusk and fresh snow. there is an excitement that she can't contain, a liberation happening in her veins. the four men are no longer stranded humans without any badge of military on their clothes. she can see them as soldiers with ease, the way their dark forms move closer into the trees where she urges them to chase her and loki. "det virker bedre, gjør det ikke? å kjempe i stedet for å ta dem når de minst venter det!" she answers with an exhilarated laugh as she storms towards the men.

loki is right, they are weak. and she's reminded of how quickly they can fall when the first man only takes one hit from a sword to hit the ground in a cry of terror. but esje is then apprehended from behind from the other, the struggle instantly occurring between them. her sword is hit from her hand but she snatches for the dagger at her side, plunging it into his knee so he falls. and loki is right that this is power. and esje wonders if this is also blood lust, as the way red pours over snow glimmers beautifully to her. the adrenaline pumping in her chest when she lifts the dagger, ready to strike it down for the kill. but loki's voice echoes and she freezes. both hands clutching the dagger above her head with ragged breath in her lungs. her eyes meet the man's below her briefly when loki speaks, and then she looks to him with a tilt of her head.

everything has been a blur, a rush, a whirlwind. and esje hasn't registered the fading of life until loki's instructions. his eyes no longer a gentle blue but now black from the shadows and dimming sky. "loki, jeg er ikke klar for det." esje shakes her head, uttering the reply to him. and the man takes the pause from his death to begin writhing beneath her and she struggles to keep him still. he pleads then, voice filled with fear and making esje look to him with hesitation. life is now a cycle of pain, she thinks. she suffered, so it's right that he should. her family have suffered. their homes taken. but the conflict fills her with a dread. "i cannot do it like that, loki." she says desperately to him. "snart, men ikke nå."

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - VI

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,800+

Previously on…

“Nightwing! Regroup!” Bruce snapped into the comms again.

No matter how dire the situation was, they always stuck with their codenames while in uniform. But right now, Bruce wanted to scream at Dick to get his shit together.

Dick was quiet for a moment, allowing his family to only hear the roaring of his motorcycle as it zipped through the streets of Gotham.

“By the time we regroup, she’ll be dead,” Dick answered darkly.

This was the biggest difference between Dick and Bruce.

Dick wasn’t ruled by his emotions – except when it involved the safety of people he cared for and loved. When that happened, his emotions took control. It was very unlike Bruce, which just proved there were some things Dick simply couldn’t get trained out of him.

Bruce was always calm and collected – even when it was his kids that were in danger. Was he scared for Y/N’s life? Yes. But he also knew that panicking and going in hot was not going to help her. If anything, it would put more people in danger.

“Jason is following him,” Tim announced.

Jason might’ve refused to use comms, but they still had a tracker on his bike.

“What’s the plan?” Tim asked.

——————

Y/N probably looked like a drunk driver from the way she was serpentining to the heart of Gotham.

But she was tried to load a magazine into her gun as she ran every red light without getting t-boned by oncoming traffic.

It was…a lot. Especially since Y/N knew she were driving to her assassination.

It hadn’t been hard sneaking past the internal security at the manor. Y/N knew she could do it since she was brought there. But she decided to save that knowledge for the right time. And that was tonight. It was clearly designed mostly for Damian – or perhaps for any of the boys when they were younger and rebellious.

Then Y/N had to jumpstart the first car she saw parked on the street near Wayne Manor, which took longer than she had liked.

She might not have a lot of skills in the combat area. But she was rather resourceful in almost every other way – which included hijacking cars.

Y/N was so panicked about making it to the city before they could intervene, that her mind wasn’t really processing what was about to happen.

All Y/N knew was that she hoped they’d be done with it before any of them knew what was happening and could try to stop it.

She knew what they would’ve said. They would’ve told her to stay where she was and they would handle it. They would’ve done everything to keep her safe while also trying to save Gotham.

But Y/N couldn’t wait to see if she was responsible for the deaths of thousands while she sat on her ass and did nothing.

So she took her life into her own hands.

She gave enough information for them to use. Even if she was gone, she’d given them enough leads to finish the job without her.

Now her time was up.

Y/N knew eventually time would catch to her. She’d lived a far too risky life, threatened the most dangerous people, ruined the lives and locked up even more of dangerous people. It was only a matter of time before her luck ran out.

Y/N skidded the car to a stop. And she realized her hands were shaking as she threw the car into park.

She hadn’t stopped driving until she reached Old Gotham – right underneath the Clock Tower.

It was a nice, wealthy part of the city, which meant that there weren’t questionable people lingering on the streets.

In fact, it was eerily quiet – even for such a nice neighborhood. Y/N didn’t see a single person walking around in her vicinity.

But when she turned, there were five masked people watching her.

The Talons.

Their faces and bodies were completely covered, with their masks and goggles reminiscent of actual owls.

All of them had an arsenal of some sort of bladed weapon – countless knives, katanas, axes, or even broadswords. And, of course, they all had talons. 

“So you are the irritant,” one of them greeted, his voice muffled from his gear.

Y/N took a step back as she grabbed her gun out of the back of her waist.

But she felt a presence behind her and whipped around to see more Talons surrounding her.

Did they really expect her to be able to put up that much of a fight?

“I’ve been called worse,” Y/N smirked.

She was clearly in denial that she was about to die.

They all unsheathed their weapons.

But Y/N wasn’t going to let them make the first move.

She started shooting bullets. Either they were wearing bullet-proof vests or they were blocking her bullets with their weapons. It was all happening so fast that she couldn’t figure it out. She knew her aim wasn’t off. Jason had been secretly teaching her how to shoot. And she’d gotten rather good with his help.

“Fuck,” Y/N hissed when her magazine was empty and she had failed to take down a single Talon.

As she tried to reload the magazine, their patience ran out.

One of them knocked the gun out of her hand, slicing the skin in the process.

Before Y/N could look down at the damage, another Talon wrapped his hand around her neck and lifted her off the ground like a doll.

“How can such a weak and pathetic woman have caused such a nuisance?” He cooed at her as he tilted his head, inspecting her.

Y/N couldn’t reply even if she wanted to.

Her hands were frantically trying to free herself, nails ripping at the armor and gloves of the Talon.

“Perhaps she could be of use to us,” one of them spoke up. “Unless she’d rather die…”

But before they could drop her or make a decision, someone dropped into the middle of the chaos with a blur.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being dropped to the ground and coughing to recover her breath.

When she looked up, she saw Dick – no, Nightwing – taking on all of the Talons who were sent to kill her.

Yes, Y/N had frequently seen Dick train with Bruce and his brothers. However, this was something entirely different.

Y/N watched in shock as Dick used his escrima sticks to take out the Talons in droves. He flipped, kicked, punched, and moved in a way Y/N had never seen before.

There was a moment of pause that gave him the opportunity to meet her gaze.

“Y/N, run!” Dick screamed as he flipped away from the deadly claws of a Talon.

She blinked at his command and snapped out of her daze.

Jumping to her feet, she did as he said.

But she only got a few yards before two more Talons dropped in front of her and blocked her path.

Her fear was interrupted by bullets raining on them seconds before a motorcycle flew into her peripheral.

Red Hood did a front wheel break and swung his motorcycle so precisely that he managed to take out both of the Talons with the backend of his bike.  

He turned to look at her. “Get on.”

But Y/N looked behind her at Dick, who was fighting Talon after Talon.

“What about Di–” she stopped herself from using his name. “What about Nightwing?!”

“Batman is on his way with the others. But right now, we have to get you out of here,” Jason yelled back.

Right on cue, the Batmobile came screaming toward them, as well as Tim on his motorcycle.

“Y/N, get on the motherfucking bike,” Jason warned her.

She turned around again and saw Dick now being aided by Damian, Tim, and Bruce. They were finally starting to overpower the Talons.

Clearly they hadn’t sent the numbers to defend themselves against the entire bat family. They probably assumed Y/N would head their warning and arrive unaccompanied. And Y/N did. But both her and The Court underestimated the vigilante family’s protectiveness towards her.

Y/N finally listened to Jason and jumped on the back of his motorcycle.

Barely giving her a second to adjust, Jason floored it and sped away from the fight as quickly as possible.

This motorcycle ride was nothing like the one Y/N shared with Dick.

Jason rode like bat out of hell, whipping around tight corners without slowing down. And even with her vice-like grip around his waist, Y/N felt like she could fly off at any moment. The wind stung against her skin like a million little needles.

“Where are we going?” Y/N tried to scream to him.

“We have to make sure they’re not tracking us before we return to the cave!”

Y/N couldn’t tell how long they had been driving around. But her arms and muscles were sore from the tension of holding on for dear life. She was so exhausted that if she hadn’t been so scared, she probably could’ve fallen asleep on the back of Jason’s motorcycle – even with his reckless driving.

Without any warning, Jason veered into a parking garage and went to the basement level where no cars were parked. He must’ve pressed a button because a hidden compartment was opening against the cement wall and suddenly they were driving through it.

Y/N got off the bike as soon as he stopped and looked around.

It must be one of his safehouses.

To her surprise, Jason took off his Red Hood helmet and then the domino mask underneath. He also grabbed some clothes that would either cover his Red Hood uniform or make it look like civilian clothing.

He pointed to a car, “Come on.”

Y/N followed him silently and got into the passenger seat.

It was a 20 minute ride back to the manor.

And it finally gave Y/N time to actually process what she had planned to do tonight. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Jason asked after 10 minutes of silence.

“And say what?” She challenged.

He smirked. “I don’t know. Maybe how you enjoy playing sacrificial lamb.”

Y/N ground her teeth together. “That’s oversimplifying it, and you know it.”

Jason just shrugged.

“That’s it?” She asked when he didn’t follow up with any more questions. “Really? You’re not going to start lecturing me?”

“Oh, definitely not. ‘Cause you’re gonna get a shit ton of that when Bruce sees you – maybe even from Dick, if he’s not too overwhelmed with relief from seeing you in one piece. Which, by the way, you’re very lucky to be.”

Y/N had no response to that.

The rest of the ride was quiet, except for the local classic rock radio station that Jason decided to turn on.

To their surprise, no one was waiting in the cave for them. But Dick and Tim’s motorcycles were parked, as well as the batmobile. So they had clearly returned.

“That might not be a great sign…” Jason mumbled as got out of his civilian car. “Come on,” he nudged with his head as he started making his way to the stairs that led back into the manor.

When they got up, Jason followed the sounds of voices coming from the kitchen.

Y/N’s eyes immediately took in the group, worried that someone would be missing.

No one was in full uniform. Tim and Damian were in sweats. Bruce’s cape and cowl were gone, but his full body armor was still on.

The three of them and Alfred were all gathered around Dick, who was sitting on the island counter shirtless with nothing but his black compression shorts on.

One of his left eye was black, there was dried blood below his nostrils, his bottom lip was split and swollen. But Y/N’s eyes were only looking at the wound on his side that Alfred was currently stitching. Clearly one of the Talons’ swords found an in.

When the family heard Jason and Y/N’s entrance, all eyes were on them.

Dick looked relieved.

But Bruce? He looked livid.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

He didn’t yell. No, instead his voice was low and even. And it scared Y/N more than yelling ever could.

But she was too busy looking at Dick’s injuries with concern.

Then her gaze raced to Tim and Damian, looking them up and down to try and assess if they had any injuries. But they seemed in good shape.

“Y/N!” Bruce snapped.

Finally she acknowledged him. 

“What?!” She growled in return.

“What were you thinking?”

“Bruce…” Dick warned quietly.

They had all seen Bruce get this way. And they all unfortunately had been on the other side of his wrath. They could see the telltale signs that Bruce was about to give one of his level-headed, but extremely disappointed speeches.

Except there was one big difference this time: Y/N wasn’t one of Bruce’s kids.

And by now, all of the boys had figured out that Bruce was feeling some kind of way about her. Even Damian had finally realized that Y/N wasn’t just an ally or fellow vigilante to his father.

“How about we all take in a deep breath and appreciate that none of us are dead?” Jason asked the group loudly. “Because we know that hasn’t always been on the case in the past…”

But Bruce ignored Jason and took a step to Y/N.

“You could’ve been killed,” he muttered quickly.

“I was trying to save innocent lives!” Y/N snapped.

“You should’ve told us as soon as you received the threat,” he countered.

“Why? So you could sideline me and make decisions about my fucking life?”

“We would have come up with a plan. One that did not involve you hot-wiring a car and driving to your death.”

“I was trying not to endanger anyone else, meaning all five of you!”

“And look how that ended,” Bruce answered darkly as she gesture to Dick, who was now stitched up and Alfred was putting a wrap around his torso.

“You can’t just shove your way into my life whenever you feel like it!” Y/N finally shouted at Bruce. “I was doing just fine before you added yourself to the situation.”

This wasn’t just about tonight anymore. The tension in their relationship had now flooded into the argument, finally reaching its boiling point.

“Tonight proved otherwise,” Bruce told her evenly.

But Bruce remaining too calm and showing no emotional reaction was only infuriating Y/N more.

“Hey!” Y/N yelled. “Just because I don’t put on a stupid costume and punch my way out of problems doesn’t mean you’re better than me. In fact, you would be screwed if it weren’t for me. You need me. You need me more than I need you.”

Bruce just glared at her.

“What? Nothing to say?”

“We can have a discussion when you stop behaving like a child.”

And it was finally what made Y/N snap.

She lunged at him.

What she planned on doing to him was beyond her. Everyone, including herself, knew she didn’t stand a chance against a petty fight with Batman. She probably couldn’t even land a punch if he let her.

Thankfully, she would never have to get that proven to her. Because Dick put a stop to it before it could actually start.

When he had moved off the counter and closer to their argument, she didn’t know.

But now Dick was finally intervening as he wrapped his arms around Y/N from behind her, pinning her arms to her side and pressing her back to his chest.

“A child?!” Y/N screamed as she tried to fight her way out of Dick’s grip. “Should I remind you that you fucked this ‘child’?!”

“Alright,” Dick warned her calmly. “That’s enough.”

“Let go of me!”

“Calm down,” he told her quietly.

Suddenly, Y/N remembered that Dick was injured, and he was injured because of her. And now she was thrashing against him, probably causing him harm and putting him at risk of opening the stitches Alfred had just finished.

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’m calm.”

But Dick waited a second or two before he decided to believe her.

When he let go, she lightly shoved him away from her and made her escape.

The whole family watched her leave, and felt the awkward tension that filled the room after she’d gone.

Tim looked shocked.

Jason glared at Bruce.

Damian seemed rather disappointed – in Y/N or his father, no one could figure out.

Dick eyed Bruce. “Great job,” he told him darkly.

Bruce just crossed this arms and sighed.

Dick gestured in the direction that Y/N went. “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

But he knew already from Bruce’s expression that he wasn’t going to anything of the sort.

“You know what, forget it.” Dick huffed before heading in the general direction that Y/N had escaped.

But Jason wasn’t going to let Bruce off the hook so easily.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He hissed.

“Stay out of it, Jason.”

“Stay out of it?” He mocked. “Yeah, it’s a little bit hard to do that when her safety has become a family matter.” Jason shook his head in disappointment and turned to leave, “I’m out of here.”

-----------

When Dick tried to retrace Y/N’s steps, he found the front door of the manor wide open. The sight was rather eerie for some reason. But Dick stepped onto the front of the manor and looked out at the land.

Had she made a run for the gate?

It wouldn’t be the first time tonight, clearly.

But after a few scans of the property, he eventually found her.

Despite the circumstances, Dick couldn’t help but smirk when he found Y/N sprawled on the great lawn of the manor, laying on her back and staring up at the stars.

He stood over her. “I’m surprised you didn’t make a run for it.”

“Oh, I tried,” she told him matter of factly. “Bastard’s already updated the security system from earlier tonight.”

“Believe it or not, that’s his way of saying he cares. Just ask Damian.” He slowly sat down on the lawn with her, but made sure to still give her some space.

“No. It’s his way of reminding me that he’s the one in control.”

Dick winced, knowing there was probably truth to that, too.

“He shouldn’t have said that to you,” Dick sighed.

Y/N scoffed. “What part?”  

He hesitated before clarifying. “You’re not a child.”

She went quiet, not expecting him to get right to it.

“Well, we’re the same age…so of course you’d say that.”

Dick rubbed his face, knowing this was a losing battle. Nothing he said on the matter would bring her comfort.

Y/N finally looked away from the stars and her face scrunched in guilt and worry as she took in Dick’s fresh bandage. There was a pinkish blotch that showed just how big the wound was.

Slowly she sat up and turned to him. “Are you okay?” She whispered shakily.

He grinned at her concern. “Believe it or not, this is nothing.”

But Y/N still reached forward and cupped his face. Her thumb traced around his black eye, but made sure not to put any pressure on the swollen skin.

Dick leaned into her touch, not bothering to try and hide the affection.

“This is exactly what I didn’t want,” Y/N mumbled.

Dick opened his mouth, but then quickly changed his mind and closed it again.

“What?” She pushed.

But before Dick would answer, he slowly moved into her space. Then he pressed his forehead to hers.

“Please, don’t do anything like that again.”

His approach was different, but it was clear Dick and Bruce felt the same way about the stunt she had pulled. 

Y/N was quiet.

“I understand why you did it. I really do.” He added quickly. “But just…” He paused and took in a shaky inhale. “Tonight scared the hell out of me, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered.  

“I know you are. I saw it on your face as soon as you saw my injuries.” His eyes went dark. “But we can’t do things like that. We have to work together or this is all going to explode in our faces.”

Y/N thought over his words.

His hands went to cup her face.

“Deal?” He pushed.

She nodded.

Then Dick’s eyes moved down to her throat.The blistering red was already fading and being replaced by purple and blue bruising.

His mind flashed back to earlier, how he saw her dangling by her throat and unable to escape the Talon’s grip. The sight had caused him to rush into battle, not thinking of a plan before doing so. It went against everything Bruce had taught him. But seeing Y/N’s life in danger made him black out.

“We should get some ice for your neck,” Dick muttered quietly.

Then he looked down at her hand. It had stopped bleeding, but the cut looked painful and there was dried blood surrounding it.

“Fucker sliced it when he knocked my gun out of my hand,” Y/N mumbled when she saw Dick staring at it.

He eyed her suspiciously. “And I suppose Jason’s been helping with that, huh?”

She cringed. “Maybe…”

Dick just huffed and shook his head.

He started getting up, “Come on. Let me clean that cut and get some ice for your neck.”

But Y/N pulled him back down.

“Wait. Can we…Can we just stay for a bit?” She asked quietly, and then pointed up and laid back down in the grass to stare up at the sky.

Dick smirked and nodded.

He joined her, moving closer this time so their shoulders touched.

“You can actually see the stars out here,” Y/N sighed.

The smog and city lights of Gotham made them invisible.

But now they were far enough to see a few.

Dick thought about all the places he used to travel to with the circus. Some of them were so far removed from society that he could see every single star at night.

But he didn’t tell Y/N that this was nothing compared to those places.

Instead, Dick just slowly moved his hand and grabbed Y/Ns, interlacing their fingers. A part of him expected her to pull away. But she squeezed his hand and kept looking up.

—

Alfred found Bruce in the library, looking out the windows.

When he joined his side, he saw what Bruce was looking at: Dick and Y/N laying on the grass of the great lawn, stargazing.

“You’re disappointed in me,” Bruce said without taking his eyes off the two.

“I said nothing of the sort, Master Wayne.”

Bruce frowned. “You don’t have to.”

“She is not another charge, Master Wayne.” Alfred sighed. “Therefore you should not treat her as such.”

“I’m trying to keep her safe.”

“Why do you think she said nothing of the threat?” Alfred countered. “Why do you think she did not believe she could trust you?”

Bruce said nothing.

“You put the safety of Gotham over your own life every night, Master Wayne.” Alfred continued. “Yet you are so spiteful towards others who do the same.”

That finally made Bruce turn away from the window to look at Alfred.

“You owe her an apology,” Alfred finally confirmed. “Even if Master Dick has become rather good at cleaning up your messes.” 

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

Part 7

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