#I swear I've written even longer posts than this before

[stepswowdsen]

Magi: Judar + JuAli Rambles 🖤❤️💛🐈‍⬛☀️

Hi! I’ll be writing my reaction rambles after reading a few Magi volumes in JP.

Thanks to Bas, the leader of the fan-scanlation group Project Vinland, and a mutual of mine who’s big in the scanlation community, I got access to Magi’s JP Raws.

Viz’s official English translation of Magi is fine for the most part, in terms of translation quality.

I’ll be putting Sense Scans’ EN fan-TL and Viz’s EN official TL here for reference.

Since I don’t see the need to re-translate lines that both the fan-TL and official TL already translated correctly.

I love the prose that Sense Scans uses in their Magi fan-scanlation.

For certain lines, though, I’ll also be putting the literal translation (from my head).

My beloved JuAli 🖤❤️💛🐈‍⬛☀️

Wanted to ramble about them!

Judar’s pronouns

俺 (Ore, “I”) - Casual, informal, rude. Mainly used by men.

お前/おまえ (Omae, “You”) - Casual, informal, rude. Mainly used by men.

Notes:

Judar’s first-person pronoun is 俺 (Ore, “I”). Judar’s second-person pronouns is おまえ (Omae, “You”)

Judar uses the very casual and informal, rude, masculine pronouns 俺 (Ore, “I”) and おまえ (Omae, “You”). He uses the kanji version of 俺 (Ore, “I") as his first-person pronoun, and interchangeably uses the kanji and hiragana versions of お前/おまえ (Omae, “You”) as his second-person pronoun.

He speaks pretty casually and informally. He uses colloquial particles (shortens verb conjugation endings) sometimes.

Extra Notes:

In “Role Language” (役割語, Yakuwarigo), fictional characters’ dialects — the usage of pronouns, particles, etc., conveys character traits such as gender, age, class, and levels of formality, etc.

俺/おれ/オレ (Ore) is an informal first-person pronoun, and very rough version of “I” almost exclusively used by males in casual (informal) situations.

俺 (Ore) tends to be used by characters who are very rough, casual, vulgar, sleazy, in a position of power, and/or, just very manly/masculine.

お前/おまえ/オマエ (Omae) is a very rough second-person pronoun for “You” usually used by males in casual (informal) situations. Usually only used between close friends IRL. It has an aggressive and rude edge when not used between friends. Also used to speak down to others from a higher position.

Arrogant characters (including arrogant royals), tend to lean into using more rough, casual masc pronouns such as 俺 (Ore) and お前 (Omae), such as Xanxus (KHR), Kuroha/Saeru (KagePro), Judar (Magi), Edward (ROTRK), Vegeta (DBZ), Enzan (MMBN/EXE), etc., since they’re in positions of authority and/or high status, and look down on others.

Many of my favourite characters, such as Judar (Magi), Xanxus (KHR), Kuroha (KagePro), Enzan (MMBN/EXE), Edward (ROTRK), and many more, have very rough and masculine speech patterns in JP. All of the characters I listed here also use 俺 (Ore) and お前 (Omae) as their main pronouns.

It’s very typical of rude and arrogant masc characters to lean into using them. Characters who are casual/informal and masculine in general, also tend to lean into using them.

Whether a character uses the kanji or hiragana or katakana versions (or combination) as their pronouns could be used to give off a certain nuance. But it depends on the character and context.

(I actually copied these notes from my XanLena dialogue scripts cuz I don’t feel like writing all of that again. I’ll post more of my KHR AU stuff reventually!)

How he refers to others:

Alibaba:

アリババくん (Alibaba-kun, “Alibaba”)

アリババ (Alibaba, “Alibaba”)

ハニワ (Haniwa, “Clay doll”)

Sinbad:

シンドバッド (Shindobaddo, “Sinbad”)

バカ殿 (Baka tono, “Idiot king”)

Note: 殿 (tono, “feudal lord”)

Hakuryuu:

白龍 (Hakuryuu, “Hakuryuu”)

Aladdin:

アラジン (Arajin, “Aladdin”)

Judar's Usage of Particles:

の (no) - Sentence ending particle. Can be used to soften a sentence.

な/なあ (na/naa) - Sentence ending particle. Masculine, usually used by men.

ね/ねえ (ne/nee) - Sentence ending particle. Can be used to soften a sentence. [X]

よ (yo) - Sentence ending particle. Often used to soften a sentence.

ぜ (ze) - Sentence ending particle. Rude, rough, informal, masculine, used to add emphasis. Slightly softer than the sentence ending particle ぞ (zo). Usually used by men.

んだ (nda) - Sentence ending particle, used to add emphasis. Casual/informal version.

んだよ (nda yo) - See above, but it adds the nuance of trying to give a new perspective to the listener that they don’t have. [X]

だ (da) - Sentence ending particle. Masculine, forceful, used for emphasis.

だろ (daro) - Sentence ending particle. Masculine, forceful, used for emphasis.

じゃん (Jyan) - Casual colloquial of じゃない (Jyanai) → Has the nuance of “Isn’t it?” and “Actually.” Makes the sentence softer.

Ex. いるんだ (irunda)

んだ (nda) has a casual nuance. He uses colloquial particles.

Not a comprehensive list, but ones I’ve noticed so far. I’ll probably edit the section about his usage of particles later since I still need to check them

Judar often shortens verb conjugations in his casual/informal speech style.

Characters like Judar, Xanxus, (and Enzan occasionally) use shortened verb conjugations, colloquials (casual forms) of verbs. This is very typically masc. Rougher masc charas often do this

Ex.

いらない (Iranai, "Don't need/want [it]") (Plain negative form) → Iran or Iranee (いらん/いらねえ, “Don’t need/want [it]”) (Shortened casual/informal negative form)

いらない (Iranai) → いらん/いらねえ (Iran/Iranee)

Magi: Vol. 27 - Ch. 266

JP (Original)

Page 1

Judar: Huh?

ジュダル：ふう～ん？

(Judaru: Fuu~n?)

...

Judar: (I don't understand what this guy is saying at all!)

ジュダル：（こいつのいってること、サッパリわからないぜ！）

(Judaru: Koitsu no itteru koto, sappari wakaranai ze!)

...

Judar: (Geez, why did Aladdin choose this guy!?)

ジュダル：（まったく、アラジンはなぜこんな奴を選んだんだ！？）

(Judaru: Mattaku, Arajin wa naze konna yatsu wo eranda nda!?)

...

Judar: (And Hakuryuu too. Just what about this guy that charmed him so much…………)

ジュダル：（白龍だってそうだ。こんな奴の、一体どこにそんなにひかれて…………）

(Judaru: Hakuryuu datte sou da. Konna yatsu no, ittai doko ni sonna ni hikarete…………)

Note: Comes from the verb 惹かれる (hikareru, “to be charmed by; to be attracted to; to be taken with; to be drawn to”)

Page 2

Judar: That's right, just what about Alibaba charmed Aladdin and Hakuryuu enough to make them so fixated with him?

ジュダル：そうだ、アラジンと白龍は、アリババの一体何にそんなにひかれて、あんなにこだわっていたんだ？）

(Judaru: Souda, Arajin to Hakuryuu wa, Aribaba no ittai nani ni sonna ni hikarete, anna ni kodawatteita nda?)

Note: Te-ita form verb conjugation. Comes from the verb 拘る (kodawaru, “to be obsessive (about); to be overly concerned (with); to be hung up (on); to be fixated with”)

...

Judar: (I just don't understand.)

ジュダル：（俺にはわからないぜ。）

(Judaru: Ore ni wa wakaranai ze.)

Fan-TL (Sense Scans)

Official TL (Viz)

I get both JuAli and AliHaku crumbs from Judar’s monologue about Alibaba. Isn’t that amazing? ^v^

I already talked about this scene plenty before, so I won't copy paste the same rambles from before.

Fan-TL is spot on with this ^^

Viz removes the first mention of "Charmed/Attracted" in the 1st page, but at least keeps it in the 2nd page.

I think the gist is kept, but the original and fan-TL are more explicit and obvious about it.

"That's right, what about Alibaba charmed them so much to make them so fixated with him?"

...

I noticed that in the last sentence, Judar's 何 (nani, "what") has a dot in place of furigana (characters that denote the pronunciation of a word, or add a certain nuance to the text).

This is called 圏点 (kenten, "emphasis mark") or 傍点 (bouten, "emphasis mark").

This is used for emphasis, similar to how English uses underlines or italics or bold for emphasis.

It has an emphatic nuance. It's used to add emphasis on a word. Typical manga fonts used in official localizations have all words in capital letters, so Ig in this case, bold or italics could convey this kind of nuance.

...

The equivalent in English would be something like this:

Judar: That's right, just WHAT about Alibaba charmed Aladdin and Hakuryuu enough to make them so fixated with him?

Or this

Judar: That's right, just what about Alibaba charmed Aladdin and Hakuryuu enough to make them so fixated with him?

Or this

Judar: That's right, just what about Alibaba charmed Aladdin and Hakuryuu enough to make them so fixated with him?

Or this

Judar: That's right, just what about Alibaba charmed Aladdin and Hakuryuu enough to make them so fixated with him?

...

Oooooh you're stumped by it!!!

Alibaba's charm points of what drew others to him...

You wanna know so bad, huh?

I think I got more to say in general about this scene, but I wrote enough for now ^^

You already get the point

Other Notes

Me: Some of Viz’s spellings are just weird to me, like them translating Magnostadt as a direct romanization → Magnoshutatt

Magnostadt (マグノシュタット, Magunoshutatto) 

For some reason???

...

Friend: God bless you Sen 😭💓💓 This is all really fascinating to read

Me: You're welcome! English is so BORING to me as a language when it comes to things like this, because everyone sounds the same. You're either normal or you're cowboy. Yeehaw /lh

I love how languages like Vietnamese and Japanese can express things like character traits and personality, etc., in speech. How it can convey the "vibes" that a character gives off right away, just from their speech style/patterns.

Vietnam has a lot of dialects and speech quirks! The main ones are the North, South, and Central Vietnamese dialects. And they have many variants depending on the area

Yakuwarigo ("Role Language"), fictional characters' dialects/speech styles in Japanese, is SOOO interesting, and English doesn't have a proper equivalent for it.

This is part of why I wanted to learn Japanese. THIS conveys things like character traits and different speech styles SO MUCH more.

Also keep in mind that I’m doing these quick literal TLs quickly based on my interpretation of the text, and that I’m still learning JP so I can make mistakes 🙏

If you notice any, feel free to correct me!

Resources

If you’d like to learn more about Japanese pronouns in an IRL context, see these links:

Yakuwarigo

Links

Japanese particles

Do note that Role Language in fiction can differ partially and/or a lot from usage in IRL contexts.

In fictional characters’ dialects, 貴方/あなた (Anata, “You”) is considered a neutral or polite/formal pronoun (depending on the context)

IRL, it’s rude to call someone with 貴方/あなた (Anata, “You”) because “it sounds accusatory to pound the listener with ‘You’ every sentence”

Emphasis Marks

[phoenixyfriend]

How to Call Your Reps About Gaza

I make a lot of posts telling you to call your reps! Anyway, here's the overall shape of how to argue to them.

Disclaimer: I am not in politics. I do not have experience as a staffer. I am just someone who cares a lot about where things are going, and wants to help. Also, this is specific to the US, because that's where I'm based. Hopefully, people with expertise can add more suggestions on.

Find your elected officials.

My Ko-fi: this took me two days to write up, so uh. If you've got a few dollars, send them my way so I can keep doing this sort of thing, and maybe move out of my parents' house sooner.

General tips:

Be polite, or at least civil. Do not swear or shout at whoever answers the phone. This will quite possibly get your number blocked. Fifty civil calls over the course of several months will do more than one where you shout. You can be frosty, you can say you are disappointed, you can say you find the actions of your reps to be reprehensible or morally bankrupt, sure. But keep calm and aim criticism at the rep, not the staffer.

Keep it short. The staffers who answer call centers are busy. They usually start trying to hurry me off after about two minutes. I've yet to manage a call longer than four or five minutes. Pick one or two topics for the day, and focus on those. Cycle through them every time you call. Stick to just one from day to day if it's a large, ongoing issue like Gaza.

Plan for voicemail. I get voicemail more often than not. My House rep usually has a staffer free, but the Senators are almost always voicemail. This will give you a minute and a half max. Be ready to get your point squeezed into that.

Only call your representatives. The important, powerful word here is "constituent." You will be ignored or even counted against if you are from a different district or state. The first thing you start with is your name and address. A staffer will ask for the information they need. On voicemail, leave your full name, your city and state, and zip code before you go into your message. Do not lie, either. They look these things up in the system when you call. I'm not sure how--I think maybe they have access to a database of registered voters--but every time I call, they ask for my last name and address and at some point say, 'oh, yep, I've got you right here,' which indicates a database of some sort.

Research at least a little bit about their opinions. If they already agree with you, then it's much easier to leave a quick "I support you and want you to know that" to combat anyone who's arguing from the other side. If they don't, then you're best off finding out what specific issue they have so you can know the best kind of comment to leave.

Look up specific bills or arguments. I get daily emails from GovTrack about bills that are on this week's docket or have been voted on in the past day. IDK about anyone else, but being able to say that I disagree specifically with HR 815 or something makes me feel powerful, and possibly like I will be taken more seriously. Sometimes you can start with articles like this one, which include links to specific bills on the official congress website.

Email after if you can. Reportedly less effective, and takes longer, but you are more likely to get a written (canned) response, and it reinforces whatever you called about.

Basic structure of a call, at least as I've been doing it:

"Hi, my name is ____ ____, and I am a constituent from [city, state], [zip]. I am calling to express my opinion on [topic]. I am concerned about [short argument with a clear impact on the topic]. I ask that you support [measure or fellow congress member]/vote [yay/nay on specific legislature]. Thank you for your time, and I hope you keep my opinion in mind."

For this post, the topic can be stated as the war in Gaza, military funding for Israel, or unrest in the Middle East, depending on which you think your elected official will respond to best. That said, the structure should work for whatever your call is about.

Arguments to use against your elected official... or your on-the-fence cousin:

I'll be honest, some of these are not going to do much against your representative. They know the arguments, and have been going over them with each other for months. You just need to have one locked and loaded that they consider relevant instead of a nonstarter, in order to back up your opinion as 'founded' instead of 'nonsense, can be swayed with a good marketing campaign.'

I'll include explanations if I don't think something is self-evident (or needs more evidence to tell your cousin), but in most of them I'll provide some suggested verbiage that you can tweak as needed, and for a few of them, that's really enough.

THESE ARE FOR THE TOPIC OF CONCERN, ONLY. You still need to end each one with "I ask that the [official] votes to [action]" at the end. Give them something actionable (example from Feb. 13th). My go-tos right now:

Both chambers: Reinstate funding for UNRWA

Both chambers: Place mandatory restrictions on any aid to Israel, with contractual threats to cut funding if Netanyahu and his government continue to disregard civilian life

Senate: Put support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed (S.R. 504) (Tabled by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate)

House: Put support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

House: Put support behind H.R. 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine.

What Not to Say

"There is no threat to Israel." I've talked about this elsewhere, but the short version is that this will be basically laughed out as you not knowing what you're talking about.

Anything generically antisemitic. (I mean, it might work on some of the white supremacists, but do you really want to encourage that thinking? No, so don't do it.)

Facts that you "heard somewhere" but cannot find a reliable source for. If it's being reported by the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC, it's probably trustworthy by government standards. If it's not a super common statistic, cite the journal you got it from by name. Remember, you aren't arguing to tumblr mutuals. You are arguing to your elected official or your 'I don't really pay attention' cousin. When it comes to this, big name news sources are better.

Unrealistic demands for complete isolationism, permanently abandoning Israel to its own devices, supporting Hamas, etc. Again, you will not be taken seriously. Pick an argument they might actually listen to, and use it to press them towards a possible solution. You want them to believe that if they adjust their position, they will be doing the will of most of their constituents, and thus more likely to get reelected.

The Ethics Argument

Third-party reporting has stated that that nearly 29,000 Gazans are dead since Oct. 7th, as of 2/18/24. The vast majority of those are civilians, and over half are children. Palestinians in Gaza are facing an acute hunger crisis threatening to become a full-blown famine.

The International Court of Justice has found that there is credible reason to believe that the state of Israel is committing a genocide against the Palestinians of Gaza.

This does not mean that every single Israeli is complicit. It does mean that the government, particularly Netanyahu and his associates, has been reprimanded by a large, diverse coalition of countries, and has consistently refused to listen to that court since.

This argument will possibly work on your cousin. Less likely to work on your elected official. They already know the numbers. I just wanted to get it out of the way first.

The Re-Election Argument: Michigan vs New York

Meanwhile, this is possibly the most effective. Again, this is not an argument of ethics. This is an argument of "how can I make my elected official do what I want." We do not use only the purest moral argument. We use what works.

What to say to your elected official: Michigan, as a swing state, was won by democrats on the power of the Arab-American vote in the 2020 election. We (either party) are at risk of losing Michigan due to the current Congressional approach to the Gaza conflict, as that demographic is now polling as likely to abstain from voting entirely. The risk of losing several congressional districts due to the Jewish vote is a real one, but the risk of losing the the executive branch is greater, especially after what we saw with Suozzi. Supporting Palestine might lose us parts of New York, but supporting Israel will lose us Michigan.

Explanation: Something that has been taking up a lot of time and space in the election coverage is the situation in Michigan, and more recently, there has been attention paid to the special election of New York's third district, AKA the "who gets to replace disgraced George Santos" competition.

Michigan is traditionally a swing state. While 2.1% doesn't sound like a lot, that is some 211k-278k people (depending on your source), and while not all of them can vote... Michigan was won by about 154k. Arab-Americans are not the only relevant demographic, but they sure are an important one, and they are vocally opposed to the situation. Approval has dropped from 59% to 17%. From that same article:

As Axios notes, Biden won Michigan in 2020 by 154,000 votes, but there are at least 278,000 Arab Americans in Michigan. Biden took Arizona, a state with an Arab American population of 60,000, by only 10,500 votes. In Georgia, Biden prevailed with a margin of 11,800 voters, in a state that has an Arab American population of 57,000.

Democrats cannot afford to lose these states. Pressure your congresspeople about that, especially if you live in one of those states. I assume most Arab-Americans in said states are already calling every day; the rest of you can join in.

Meanwhile, most Jews (considered the most pro-Israel demographic by strategists) in America are concentrated in a very small number of electoral districts. Of the twenty most-Jewish, ten are in New York, which is why I put it up in the section header.

One of those districts was won by a Republican in 2022: George Santos, New York's third congressional district. Following his scandals and ousting, the seat was up for a special election, and the two candidates were Tom Suozzi, a democrat who held the seat previously (he decided to run for governor, and lost), and Mazi Pilip, a Nassau county legislator who was of Ethiopian Jewish background and had been in the IDF. She ran on a campaign that leaned strongly pro-Israel and anti-immigration, and when Suozzi won, she interrupted his victory speech to accuse him of supporting a genocide against Israel due to his rather centrist, rather milquetoast stance on the conflict during his election campaign.

Now, Suozzi's win probably had more to do with Pilip being anti-choice than her pro-Israel arguments, but he still won.

Democrats can better risk possibly losing a few seats in NY than definitely losing three swing states.

"But I don't want Dems to win their districts after what they've been--" Nope. Listen to me. Surveys indicate that Republicans are on average more pro-Israel, because Trump and Netanyahu are buddy-buddy, and we do not have a viable third option.

Also, again, this is about convincing Dems to be better. "If you do not vote to put restrictions on funding to Israel, I will not vote for you in November" is a lot more powerful than "I will not vote for you either way, because of what you've been doing, but you should do what I say anyway."

The Re-Election Argument: Risk of Escalation

So, that thing I said about Trump and Netanyahu?

Yeah, so, while Biden is giving Israel military aid while cautioning them to slow down and be careful, Trump is... complicated, but suffice to say he's much closer to Netanyahu on a personal level than Biden is. Biden's relation with Netanyahu is reportedly pretty frosty, while Trump's is based on relations through the Kushners.

Just from wikipedia:

Netanyahu made his closeness to Donald Trump, a personal friend since the 1980s, central to his political appeal in Israel from 2016.[21] During Trump's presidency, the United States recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords, a series of normalization agreements between Israel and various Arab states.

Trump's been more all-over-the-place recently, badmouthing Netanyahu for being what Trump perceives as a loser, which complicates understanding what his approach is. It's kind of incoherent right now.

Given Trump's general history of being pro-Israel, though, and the attempts by House Republicans to push through a bill of unconditional funding for Israel. It failed, but notable is that the more recent bill passed in part because it was paired with aid for Ukraine and Taiwan (something Dems are much more invested in having happen).

What to say to your elected official: If Trump is reelected due to his current appearance of being more critical of Netanyahu, there is evidence from his presidency to indicate that he will support Israel much less critically if elected. While he claims to want to settle the Middle East, it seems incredibly likely that he will worsen the situation for Palestinians, and ramp up retaliatory strikes to groups like the Houthis in a manner that will impact non-military parties, igniting tensions that are already tenuous.

The Disrespect/Wild Card Argument

This particular argument is best used against the Very Patriotic Politicians who are more concerned with the US's image and Being The Alpha Nation than with other things. Basically, this might work on Republicans.

This isn't really something I believe in, as a matter of foreign policy, buuuut it might work on your rep, so. Consider it!

What to say to your elected official: With Israel's recent actions in ignoring Biden, blocking US-sent aid like those flour trucks that got stopped at the Rafah border because they'd be distributed by UNWA, and generally Disrespecting The USA and Being Unpredictable is not only making the US look bad for being unable to wrangle a smaller country, but also making it so we are less able to wrangle other countries in the future, because Israel cannot be predicted and might set someone off.

The Europe and Reputation Argument

What to say to your elected official: The United States is losing credibility as a world power known for its military and ability to manage international disputes on behalf of the UN, because it is seemingly unable to influence Israel, and losing credibility as an upstanding moral state that is not doing foreign coups and banana republics anymore, as it appears to be tacitly supporting Israel's ICJ-labelled genocide, which is a really bad look with the other Western Powers.

I'm not entirely sure who this might work on, but there's gotta be at least a few politicians who are really concerned about America's image, more than about actually doing the right thing. Figure out if your politician is one of them.

If necessary, you can bring up how Trump is threatening to pull US support for NATO if Russia attacks someone.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Iran-backed Militias

What to say to your elected official: I'm concerned that the continued support of Israel, and thus the funding of their actions in Gaza, will increase the instability of Iran-backed militias, as we have already seen with the Houthis and Hezbollah. Entire Muslim-majority nations are showing increased displeasure not only with Israel, but with the US by extension. We cannot afford another war in the Middle East when we haven't yet pulled all our troops from the last one, not with the recent and recurring economic recessions. Any situation would also very likely be complicated or inflamed by the growing tensions among Eritrea, Djibouti, and Ethiopia regarding Red Sea access as well.

Use this on the ones that claim to be pro-military or pro-veteran. See what they said about HR 815 before the foreign military funding amendment was added.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Egypt

What to say to your elected official: Egypt's government has been unstable since the Arab Spring, and even now the military government is incredibly unpopular. With that existing instability, the addition of economic strain from the reduced usage of the Suez canal, the international disputes occurring because they're the main throughway for aid into Gaza, and the threat of a sudden influx of nearly one and a half million Palestinian refugees should Israel continue to push south... Egypt is looking at a possible near-collapse as we've seen in nearby nations suffering similar instabilities.

Explanation: It took several years for Egypt to really start recovering from the revolts in 2013, and it has applied for four IMF loans in recent years. The current government is unpopular to such a degree that they are looking to build an entire new capital from scratch in the middle of the desert so that they're less open to the risk of civilian uprisings; one of the primary causes for civilian dissatisfaction is economic issues.

Due to Houthi attacks at the Bab al-Mandab Strait, traffic through the Suez canal is down massively, and since the canal "represents almost 5% of the GNP and 10% of GDP and is one of Egypt’s most important sources of hard currency." (src) Various sources are reporting that trade through the canal is down 40-50%, which is putting more strain on the already unstable economic and political situation.

Finally, Egypt's population is about 110 million, but the governorate that shares a border with Israel and Gaza, North Sinai, has a population of barely 500,000. A push of one and a half million starving, injured people will, very suddenly, nearly quadruple the population of the governorate, and require extreme aid response from Egypt's government to keep alive and prevent a larger crisis in North Sinai and neighboring governorates.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Normalized Relations

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned that Israel's continued attack on Gaza is jeopardizing any chance of normalized relations with the Arab states in the future. American has put a lot of work into trying to get these various countries to normalize with Israel, and our funding of the current attacks on Gaza are sabotaging all that effort.

This one can be combined with the Iran-Backed Militias argument: Israel, in pursuit of revenge against Hamas, is setting itself up to be in more danger long-term, rather than less.

The International Trade Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned about how the war in Gaza is impacting international trade and shipping costs. With the Suez Canal down to half its usual capacity and the Panama Canal raising costs and dropping capacity in response to the water restrictions, along with rising fuel costs in Europe and Asia, global trade is incredibly strained. We are being relegated to the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn, and the Malacca strait for much of intercontinental trade, and the macroeconomic projections are looking very bad for America.

The Domestic Economics Argument

What to say to your elected official: Many of the plans for Israeli military funding cause damage to other parts of the budget. For instance, a recent plan put forward by the Republicans of the House suggested IRS cuts in order to move that money, a plan which would impact the US budget negatively in the long term; we need those 14 billion being spent domestically, not supporting an overreaction/possible genocide in Gaza.

Explanation: In general, pick something receiving budget cuts that your congressperson will care about. I care about IRS funding, and saw it mentioned as a target in an article, so that's what I've got in my suggested verbiage up there.

The fewer people that are working for the IRS, the more they focus on auditing poor people (simple, easy taxes) and the less they can effectively audit rich people (complicated, time-consuming taxes), which means rich people are more likely to get away with evading millions or even billions in taxation. So yeah, you want more funding in the IRS if you are poor. They are already auditing you. You want them to audit the big guys.

The Russia and China Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am worried that the current focus on funding Israel without restriction is causing us to lose sight of the international threat posed by Russia and China. Russia is actively invading Ukraine, which continues to put massive strain on the European economy with regards to oil prices, especially with the Suez situation, and China has been testing missiles near Taiwan, and thus testing US responsiveness to those threats, for months now. We cannot afford to support an internationally unpopular war if we want to remain ready for Russia and China.

This is less likely to work on Republicans, since Trump is friendly with Russia, but hey, give it a shot if they're one of the ones who aren't fully in his camp.

EDIT 2/22/24: I'm a bit unsure of this tactic, but I'm putting it out there with hopes that someone with more political experience can offer feedback:

"Congress, and the US government in general, has promised to sanction Russia for the alleged assassination of one man within a week of the suspicious death, after five months of refusing to enact even slight consequences on Israel for the deaths of nearly thirty thousand, half of which are children. This is ethically questionable at best, but for the interests of elected officials, it is a very bad look. The mismatch shows a massive bias by the American government in regards to Israel's ongoing mass murder, with over two million facing famine as a result of Israel's aid blocking, and America's reputation on the world stage, as well as individual politicians' reputations domestically with constituents, is plummeting."

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Finally, my ko-fi again. I spent a long time on this and I'd like to move out of my parents' house sooner rather than later. If you appreciate my time and effort, please feel free to donate a couple bucks.

[sazwritesstuff]

Late at Night (in the light of the tv screen) | Logan x afab!reader

Logan comes home early after being away on a mission. You're sleepy, maybe a little grumpy for being disturbed, but that doesn't stop you for welcoming him home safe. Pairing: Logan x fem!reader | Fandom: X-Men | Word Count: 2k | posted on AO3 here A/N: this started off as a cute short drabble and then it turned into smut (this is the first time I've written smut btw, sorry if it's bad) | minors do not interact! TW: sexual content/sexual references, swearing, unprotected sex, penis in vagina sex

You had gone to bed hours ago, lying in bed all alone with Logan off on a mission. It wasn’t the first time that he had been gone for a few days but it never got any easier. The man was meant to return late the next day, most likely getting back by late afternoon or early evening if it had all gone according to plan.

You were always a little worried when Logan went on a mission. At least this time he had left as part of a team. Sure, you still worried about him but it put your mind just a tiny bit more at ease knowing that he wasn’t alone. But it hadn’t stopped you from being up for far longer than usual, tossing and turning with thoughts of all the things that could go wrong.

Anxious images of Logan bruised, bloody, with broken bones kept swimming around your mind.

No matter how many times he came back in one piece you couldn’t help but worry.

It never got any easier.

Trying to quieten the anxious thoughts in your mind you had put the TV on low, your bedroom dark except for the colour leaking from the screen. Providing a constant buzz that helped stop your racing thoughts for just long enough that you could actually sleep.

You weren’t sure if you’d been asleep for minutes or hours when your bed suddenly sank to one side startling you awake. Eyes flying open. Your body sliding towards Logan’s warm body where the mattress dipped. Stopping when your side bumped against his.

“Thought you weren’t getting back until tomorrow.” You grumbled, snuggling your head into Logan’s shoulder. Sleep still clinging to your mind.

He chuckled, his arms slipping around you cradling your body to his “Was meant to.” he mumbled into your hair.

You hummed, feeling yourself beginning to fall back to sleep again. Your body relaxing finally.

That was until you felt Logan shift again besides you, moving you so that you were now lying on your back as he placed his head on your tummy. All the air flew out of your lungs in an instant. Your eyes flying open once more “Logan!” you hissed giving his hair a tug with your hand.

The man was heavy. You could’ve sworn that Logan’s big metal skull was getting heavier by the second!

“What?” he mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to a slither of skin peeking out from your t-shirt. Ignoring you struggling under his weight.

Wheezing you let out a “Get off!” giving his head a quick smack.

With a huff, Logan slipped his arms around you and rolled so you were now lying on top of him again. “There. Now, go to sleep, y/n.”

“I was about to until your heavy dumbass head nearly killed me.”

“I can think of a different kind of head that’ll make you choke, baby.”

“You’re such a pig!”

He hummed, placing a light kiss on the top of your head “But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, when you’re not trying to kill.” You grumbled. Snuggling deeper into Logan’s embrace.

He let out a bark of laughter, jostling you as he told you to “Go to sleep baby.”

“I was until you woke me up.”

“I can leave if you want-” he said beginning to raise from the bed.

“Don’t you dare!” you say sitting up, your voice softening as you let out “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Hmm. I’ve been thinking about you all day too.”

Making a split-second decision you let out “Fuck it. Take off your clothes.” Quickly pulling your t-shirt up over your head.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep?” Logan said smirking up at you. His eyes quickly flicking down to your exposed chest before going back to your face.

Throwing a leg over Logan’s hips, you settle yourself onto his lap. You leant down, whispering against his lips “I changed my mind.” Pressing your lips to his in a demanding kiss. Searching. Yearning. Filled with pent up desire and frustration.

Lips wild and hungry. Both of you fighting for dominance. Logan’s tongue invading your mouth. One of his hands tanging in your hair as the other dug into the back of your thigh. Pulling you closer.

You could feel his hard length beneath you. Pressing into you.

Tugging at Logan’s tank top, you broke the kiss, pulling it over his head. His lips moving to kiss down your neck as you dropped the fabric to the floor. Leaving open wet kisses on your skin. He kissed and licked a path towards your breasts. Taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking, nipping, licking at the soft bud making the soft flesh hard and taunt under his ministrations. With his free hand Logan pulled at your other nipple between his fingers, ripping a moan from your throat.

“Logan.” You mewled, your nails digging into Logan’s shoulders.

“Tell me what you need baby.” He said looking up at you, flicking your nipple with his tongue before moving across to the other nipping at the bud with his teeth. Sucking, nipping, licking. Suck. Nip. Lick. Again and again. Building up a steady rhythm with his tongue.

“You.” You panted. Hips rolling against Logan’s hardness, your shorts and his boxers the only barrier separating the two of you “Please. I need you inside of me.”

He hummed, ignoring your demand, concentrating on your breast. Keeping up the pattern he’d created against your skin.

“Logan.” You whined rolling your hips on top of him. Causing a groan to escape Logan’s lips.

“Patience, baby.” Logan wrapped his arms around your body and rolled you onto your back. Leaning down he connected his lips to yours. Pulling your shorts to the side he quickly slipped a finger between your wet folds, gathering the wetness from your entrance and beginning to rub soft, slow circles on your clit.

Reaching one hand down you began stroking Logan over his boxers, feeling the hard, hot length of him under your palm, making him moan above you.

“Not yet, darling,” he grabbed your hand pulling it away “I want to watch you come on my fingers first.”

“But Logan-” you began to whine, stopped by the demanding kiss Logan placed on your lips.

“Be a good girl and come on my fingers, then you can have my cock baby.” Moving his finger over your clit just how you liked it, increasing the pressure just a little more and making you squirm. Rolling your hips to meet his hand, he smirked and asked “Does that feel good, baby?”

You nodded biting your bottom lip. Your eyes drifting shut as pleasure coursed through your body.

“Hmm. Keep your eyes on me, can you do that for me?” his voice coming out huskier, betraying just how affected he was.

“Feels- So good” you breathed, your voice breaking, hooded eyes latching onto Logan’s above you. “Please.”

“Please what?” you tried to chase his fingers, grinding your cunt even more on to Logan’s hand.

“Logan. Please. Please. More. You make me-” you gasped as you felt Logan shift above and insert two fingers inside “feel so good!”

“Fuck.” He breathed “You’re gripping my fingers so tight for me, darling.”

“Logan, I’m gonna, fuck-” you dug your nails into his shoulders “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me. Come on, baby, that’s it. Cum all over my fingers.” At Logan’s encouragement you came with a shout, chanting his name as you threw you head back in ecstasy. Logan’s fingers didn’t stop until you reached down and pushed his hand away as you began to feel overstimulated. Your body still shaking from your orgasm.

Logan brought his fingers up to his mouth, moaning as he sucked them clean. “You taste so good.”

You giggled, threading your hands through his hair and pulling him down for a kiss. Tasting yourself on his lips.

You felt Logan trail a hand down your body reaching down to pull your shorts past your hips and down your legs. Lifting you hips to help him slide the clothing off, kicking the offending fabric off of your foot.

From his head you racked your fingernails down his back, one of your hands going to the waist band of his boxers slipping them down his thighs. Freeing Logan’s cock from the confining fabric.

You felt Logan rub the head of his cock along your folds. Collecting the wetness there before placing it at your entrance and slowly sinking inside of you.

You moaned. Shifting beneath him, raising your hips to meet his. No matter how many times the two of you had sex you never got used to the thickness of his cock stretching you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gripping me so good. So tight. So fucking good.” He pulled out, leaving just the tip inside, before thrusting forwards inching further inside of you. “Perfect fucking pussy.” Setting a slow, languid pace Logan thrust deeper and deeper inside of you.

Pressing kisses against his collarbones you ran your nails up and down his back. Leaving red scratches on his skin that vanished as quickly as they appeared.  

Gripping your legs Logan moved them up over his shoulders, pressing you deeper into the mattress, hitting a new deeper angle inside of you. His thrusts picking up pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room creating a symphony as you both moaned and panted.

You could feel yourself clenching around Logan’s cock. Tighter and tighter. Closer and closer. Your second orgasm so close.

Leaving one hand on his back, nails digging into his skin, you reached down and began rubbing your clit. Gasping as you sloppily tried to meet Logan’s thrusts with your own.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed feeling you tighten even more around his cock as he looked down at where you were joined, his cock thrusting in and out “Good girl. Rub that clit, baby. Rub your clit for me. Want you to cum on my cock.” Thrusting deeper and harder into you, hips slapping together.

“Such a good girl. Rubbing your clit as I fuck that pretty, little pussy. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you baby? You want to come on my cock?” you nodded, words escaping you, “Then cum. Cum for me pretty girl. Cum on my cock.”

The knot in your belly tightening, tightening, tightening… and then it snapped. Eyes rolling into your head. Body pulled taut. Scratching at Logan’s back. Fingers still rubbing your clit. Faster and faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groaned above you. Pounding into you.

The grip of your cunt on Logan’s cock sending him over the edge. Logan’s thrust turning short and a little sloppy. Groaning your name as you felt his hot, thick cum flooding your insides.

Stopping after a few more thrusts before holding himself inside of you. Your body shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The two of you panting. Sweating and out of breath, Logan leant his forehead against yours. Keeping most of his weight off of you, his arms braced on either side of your head, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Such a good girl for me.”

Looking up at Logan, the light of the TV screen illuminating his features, you smiled. Sleepy, happy, content. The two of you out of breath and sweaty. Your body felt like a limp noodle.

Whining as Logan shifted, pulling his cock out of your slit, moving to get off the bed.

You watched him as he moved off the bed. Your eyes straying to his naked backside as he left the room.

Seconds later you heard running water in the bathroom before Logan padded back inside your bedroom with a wet washcloth in hand. Kneeling on the bed beside you he quick wiped up the mess he’d made before throwing the cloth into the wash basket by the door and lying back down next to you. Curling his arms around you and pulling your body to his.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your crown he mumbled into your hair “Goodnight, love.”

“Night, Lo.”

[redroses07]

The Rock Show // Finn Wolfhard

Finn Wolfhard x Fem!Reader

WC: 2k

Based on/lyrics from 'The Rock Show' By Blink-182

Warnings: Swearing, Kissing

Summary: Finn falls in love with a girl at one of his shows, but does she feel the same?

A/N: I know I said I'd post this last night but I didn't have time to make my last few edits. Anyways, It's out now! This is also based on one of my favorite songs (I'll link it below) so it was super fun to write! This is the first time I've written for Finn in a while so I hope y'all like it! -Claire ♡

You stand outside the concert venue with your friend. Her boyfriend was the drummer for some band that was playing tonight, and she was intent on you coming along.

“Maybe you’ll meet a cute guy.” She teased, an obnoxious smirk on her face.

“Yeah, right.” you rolled your eyes, elbowing her playfully.

It was a small indoor venue, yet the line was still wrapped around the building. Luckily your friend’s boyfriend could get you special access through the back door.

When you saw the flight of stairs leading up to the stage door, you immediately regretted the heels you were wearing.

You followed closely behind your friend, unsure of where to go.

“Y/N hurry up!” Your friend called to you from the top of the stairs. You thought about how much you envied her comfy tennis shoes.

She held up the pass her boyfriend had given her, opening the door with ease.

The inside was stuffy, and even though the show hadn’t started, you could still hear the sound of the crowd cheering.

ultraviolet lights littered the ceiling, giving the area a purple glow. You could see the curtains pulled over the stage, blocking the crowd's view.

You were careful to watch for the cords strewn across the floor, connecting electric guitars and other equipment.

As soon as your friend saw her boyfriend sitting at his drum set she ran up to him excitedly, leaving you standing awkwardly backstage. You didn’t mind her going to see him of course, but you didn’t technically know anyone else back there and were worried about being thrown out.

“Hey, are you playing tonight? I’ve never seen you here before.” A voice pulled you away from your thoughts.

You turned your head to see a tall boy with messy dark hair. He had a guitar slung over his shoulder, and a mic attached to his shirt, so he clearly was playing tonight.

He was cute.

“Oh, um, no-“ You stumbled over your words, forgetting how to speak for a moment.

“I’m here with her.” You managed to say, pointing at your friend.

The boy smiled kindly, once he saw who you were pointing to.

“Third wheeling I see?”

You scuffed your heels against the floor nervously.

“Yeah, she made me come. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be doing now though. And clearly I look out of place too.” You said half jokingly.

The boy wore a look of surprise, which changed into embarrassment.

“Oh no, no that’s not why I started talking to you, I actually just thought you were pretty.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

You felt your face get hot, and you found yourself unable to look him in the eye.

“Thank you.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Shit, sorry if that was too forward, what’s your name?”

You giggled, finding the courage to make eye contact again.

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Finn. Nice to meet you Y/N.”

You blushed, standing in awkward silence.

"What time do you go on?" You asked.

You wanted to make sure you didn't miss him playing.

"Around 11."

Maybe you would have to stay longer than you anticipated. Although, now you had something to look forward to, so maybe it wouldn't be half bad.

"I'll be there," you smiled.

Finn ran his hand through his hair, curls flopping over his face. He was quick to brush them away, keeping his eyes glued to you the whole time.

The background noise heightened, and you heard someone yell for all the players, no matter what time their sets started, to hurry up.

"Shit, I've gotta go...but you have good seats tonight right?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, right up front." Having a connection to one of the players did have its perks.

"Okay! Hold on a second!" Finn ran out of the room leaving you standing around awkwardly for a second time.

You peered through the door he ran through, eagerly waiting for him to come back. That is, if he was coming back at all. You were thoroughly confused and decided to lean back against the wall while you waited. Maybe you'd blend in better that way.

Finn came flying back around the corner, the guitar that was strapped around him swaying slightly.

"I couldn't find any paper, so is it okay if I write on your arm?" He held up a black sharpie, one of the big ones you'd use to write on posters with.

"Uh sure?" At this point you wondered if turning away was a better option, but nonetheless, you let him take your arm.

You watched as Finn frantically scribbled a few letters and numbers down on your arm. When he lets your arm go, you squinted at the messy black writing.

"That's the venue I'm playing at tomorrow. If you like what you see tonight, come tomorrow and I'll take you out afterwards."

You looked at your arm and smiled at the gesture.

"You know you could've just written it in my phone right?" You laughed.

"This is way cooler." Finn replied with a toothy grin.

"I really have to go now." He began to walk backwards towards the stage.

"Hopefully I'll be seeing you soon." Finn shot two finger guns at you before turning around and rushing off.

You were left alone once more, but you no longer felt awkward. You were too preoccupied with the butterflies in your stomach.

"Come on let's go- what's that?" Your friend asked, a suspicious smirk appeared on her face.

"I'll explain later."

You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed her hand, dragging her towards the hoard of people.

You surfed through the crowd, finally reaching the front of the pit below the stage. You were close enough to where you could reach up and touch the stage if you wanted.

You stayed in the same spot for most of the show, and time passed rather quickly. The music was enjoyable, but you had to admit that you were waiting for Finn to show up.

Finally, when the lights filled the room, signaling that another set was beginning, you saw him. He was standing center stage, guitar in one hand, microphone in the other.

You don't know how, but he managed to spot you among-st all the people. He winked in your direction, and you could feel your face light up.

Finn's singing voice definitely kept you interested, more than you had been all night. And if you weren't already convinced to go out with him, his guitar skills sealed the deal.

At the end of the night your friend called a cab, your feet hurt far too much to walk back to your apartment. During the ride you rambled to her about the cute boy you had met backstage, and how glad you were that you let her drag you along.

She argued that this gave her best friend bragging rights for at least a week. You scoffed, but agreed.

The minute you got home, you changed your clothes and crashed in your bed; already excited for the date you would surely be going on the next day.

From the moment you woke up, you were riddled with excitement. The show wasn't until late but you started getting ready around mid-day.

When the time finally came, you could feel the nerves coursing through your veins. But they were good nerves, as good as nerves could be of course.

You arrived at the venue alone, not the safest option but you were careful. You made your way up front about fifteen minutes before the show started so you didn't have to push through as many people.

The place was more like a club considering most of the attendees were standing and there were hardly any seats, save for the few in the back.

In what seemed like no time at all, the show began.

Finn was center stage yet again, and you could see him scanning the room. You hoped he was looking for you.

He had yet to spot you before starting the first song, which was an upbeat ballad. You bobbed your head along to the beat of the music, relaxing into the environment.

Finn's voice was like honey, each word flowing off of his lips beautifully.

Once the song was over, he approached the microphone.

"Thank you all for coming out here tonight." He scanned the room once more, but this time he did see you. His face lit up, just as it had the night before.

"This next song is a cover, and it reminds me a lot of someone I just recently met." His deep brown eyes never left yours.

He began to sing, a wide smile on his face as he did.

"I fell in love with a girl at the rock show, she said "what?" and I told her that I didn't know."

You smiled at the lyrics, surprised by how much you felt for this boy you had known no more than a day.

You let yourself float closer to the stage, still keeping your eyes on Finn. He was clearly focused on his guitar, playing through the riff before starting to sing again.

Finn noticed you standing below the stage and began to navigate towards you.

"And if I ever got another chance, I'd still ask her to dance. Because she kept me waiting."

He leaned down, knees hitting the floor. He continued to sing, doing everything he could to inch closer to you while he did.

You reached up, grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him down further. Half of his body was hanging off of the stage, yet he still continued to sing.

"With the girl at the rock show..." His singing voice became breathy and strained.

The song ended and Finn pulled you up on stage with him. You could feel your heart beating with anticipation. Just like that, he pulled you into a messy kiss. The crowd erupted into applause, cheers, and even a few whistles could be heard. It was too brief for you to really enjoy the kiss, but it was perfect nonetheless.

When you broke apart, Finn leaned into you and whispered in your ear.

"Go wait backstage, I'll see you in a bit."

You smiled at him, and made the bold decision to kiss him on the cheek. The crowd cheered once more, and you took that as your queue to exit.

You sure would never forget tonight.

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 26

Hello, and we have got to the end of the massive arc that culminated the last four chapters.

I also wrote this part before 24 and 25 because I couldn't figure out how to write Eddie having a hard time on tour, but the aftermath flowed from my fingers.

Also as a reminder this story is finished, I'm just posting on a regular schedule. This story is the longest fanfic I've ever written. Topping out at 58165 it's definitely longer than 50K fic I wrote for NaNoWriMo last year (Sandman, never finished or published.)

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24 Pt 25

****

“You’ve been sitting on that sofa for an entire week,” Wayne growled. “Steve has called three times, your bandmates at least a dozen times each. Hell, boy Miranda has been calling concerned. So want to tell me what’s fucking got you so twisted?”

“I was given a choice out there on the road,” Eddie said, twisting his rings around his fingers. “Stay in Indy and play small time gigs for the rest of my adult life or go to LA and get an album and the chance at super stardom.”

Wayne sat down next him. “Sounds like a big decision to make.”

Eddie leapt to his feet. “That’s the problem. That’s what makes me so angry how fucking easy the choice is.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate again, boy. Start talking.”

Eddie started pacing back and forth. “As much as I loved playing for so many people, I didn’t like that I could only connect with a handful of them and not even the good kind.” He rubbed his chin angrily. “I didn’t like how tired we all were. It was set up, sound check, play, break down and move on to the next fucking town. And that wasn’t including all the parties, interviews, and all that other shit.”

“That does sound exhausting, Ed.”

“I didn’t like how easy it was for them to tell me to drop Gareth as drummer just because he had trouble adjusting to the increased volume. The price of fame they said. Like it was so simple to throw away almost two decades of friendship for the sake of adoring crowds and hearing our music on the radio.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Wayne said softly. “They didn’t...”

“Oh they absolutely did,” Eddie raged. “I didn’t like how they thought that because me and Steve’s relationship was new that I would be able to find someone better. Someone who liked metal, someone who would be down for the ride.”

Wayne furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound like good advice.”

Eddie grabbed his hair pulled at it frustration. “The last straw was when they offered to let their tattooist to finish my back tattoo, because while my artist was good, theirs was better.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to face Wayne. “I picked Steve to do my tattoo on my back because he was the only one I trusted to make it meaningful. To understand the symbolism of making something of yourself when everyone is rooting against you. I made the decision before I fell in love with him and now that we’re a couple– and for them to just dismiss him like that? It made me so angry.”

“So what’s the problem? What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I’m fucking furious because I always thought that when fame and fortune came knocking I would throw open that door and march right through it. But now? Given the choice? I’m slamming the door in its face and walking away.”

Hot tears ran down his face. “And I don’t know why.”

He dropped to his knees and began to sob.

Wayne stood up and put his arms around his nephew’s shoulders, gently pulling him to his chest.

“Did that band you were traveling with say that?” he whispered into Eddie’s curls. “Because if they did, I swear to god I will burn every record and CD you have of theirs. Don’t think I won’t. I’ll delete them off your phone too.”

Eddie chuckled weakly. “No, no. They were kind. It was everyone else we met. Agents, managers, roadies, groupies, the people around Metallica every day.”

Wayne nodded.

“I was just constantly bombarded with hateful messages and the constant running at one hundred percent...” he whimpered. “I don’t want to do it.”

“Have you told your band that?” Wayne asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t dare to. I was the one that was gung ho about the touring and everything. How do I tell them I don’t want to leave the comfort of Indianapolis and home?”

“Kinda like that,” Jeff said from the doorway. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the frame. Peaking around him was Miranda with a concerned look on her face.

Eddie scrambled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I’ve been a brat.”

Jeff took three giant steps forward and hugged him fiercely. “You’re not being a brat. You’re scared and trying to figure it all out on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? We’ve all been worried sick about you. But Steve especially. I’ll call all the boys down for a chat and you call Steve, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

He dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Baby?” he asked, unsure of the reaction he was going to get. He deserved to be yelled at. Cursed at. Broken up with. He’d hurt Steve the most with this little temper tantrum he’d been having.

“Eds?” Steve breathed. “Sunshine, are you okay? Wayne said you hadn’t been eating well or sleeping much. Say the word and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Eddie’s lip began to quiver and tears spilled out of his eyes. “I need you. More than anything.”

“I’m on my way,” Steve said fiercely.

Eddie looked over at Jeff.

“Tell Steve Brian will swing by and pick him up.”

Eddie nodded and relayed the message back to Steve.

“I’ll be at my apartment,” Steve said. “I’ll have Robin arrange my schedule, don’t you worry about thing, baby.”

“Mm’k.”

“I love you, Eds.”

Eddie closed his eyes and breathed in the warmth of that simple phrase. “Love you, too, pretty boy. Come quick.”

“I promise.”

*

Steve piled into Brian’s car. It was the newest, having bought it right before they got picked up by Metallica. He had finally saved up enough money to replace his beater.

Gareth and Gethin in the backseat. Gethin had come up to Indy to watch his twin’s apartment while he was gone and just ended up staying. He was currently looking for a job so that he could move in with Gareth full time.

At least that what they said on the trip down. The twins and Brian were intent on filling the air with talk and Steve let them. He let them fill him in on the tour and everything that had been going on since they’d left.

Steve couldn’t be for certain, but it sounded like that touring hadn’t been fun for anyone. Even after a week of rest, he could still make out the circles under their eyes and how hunched over they were with just sheer exhaustion.

A feeling Steve felt all too well.

Gethin was pressed against his twin’s side and was rubbing his neck soothingly.

Steve looked at Brian.

His face was set, hard and unflinching. He was going to make the drive to Hawkins as fast as he could and still avoid the cops.

Steve was grateful Brian was driving because he didn’t think he would have made the distinction to avoid breaking the law. He would have gunned it and flipped off any cop that tried to catch him.

After awhile, Steve was getting the oddest feeling that Brian was used to speeding down this stretch of highway because there were points where he would slow down for a few miles and then speed right back up.

Soon enough they were pulling up to Wayne’s trailer and piling out the car.

*

Eddie sat on the sofa with Jeff and Miranda on either side of him, just hugging him.

Wayne was busying himself in the kitchen, getting ready to feed the hoard that was about to descend on his home.

The door opened up and Brian, Gareth, and Gethin all stumbled through the entryway. Eddie was on his feet in an instant, Jeff and Miranda not far behind.

And then the trio at the door parted and there stood Steve. Looking just as tired and worn as Eddie felt.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked, taking a step toward him uncertainly.

Steve threw open his arms and Eddie ran straight into them. They wrapped their arms around each other and just sobbed.

“I’m here, Eds,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s neck. “I’m here. I love you so much.”

Eddie lifted his head and kissed him hard. “I love you, too. I regret leaving you behind, sweetheart. It nearly killed me. Every song I wrote was about you. About missing you. I don’t even want to leave you ever again, I can’t.”

The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

Steve led Eddie back over to couch and sat them both down. “Tell us everything, babe.”

And so Eddie did. He told them everything. Everything he had told Wayne, everything that had been weighing on his mind since they started touring. It all just came out in a flood.

They all listened patiently.

“Why didn’t you tell us you felt like that while we were on the road?” Gareth asked. “I knew what they were saying about me, but I also knew you guys wouldn’t drop me. If you had me about that I would have been able to reassure you that I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Eddie flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, it was so vile, man.”

Jeff gave his hand a squeeze. “Well, I think that you did a bang up job telling us now and that’s what really matters.”

“Someone offered to ship me out to LA and record an album,” Eddie finally admitted. “Not the band, just me. I told him that I wouldn’t go without you guys and he laughed in my face. Told me to cut the dead weight and be a star.” He dragged his hands over his face.

“But there were other offers. Good ones. Ones that included the band, well most of it, anyway. Always under the proviso that Gareth be replaced either on tour or all together. They didn’t want to make any accommodations for him even though there is a drummer with one god damn arm!”

“So the options are,” Brian said, “stay in Indy doing what we’ve been doing, only better because of the money we got for doing this tour. Go to LA without Gareth. Go to LA with Gareth but only as a studio musician and take some person we don’t know on tour with us. Does that sound about right?”

Just then Gareth’s phone went off. He looked at it with a frown. It wasn’t a number recognized so he let it go to voicemail. He pulled it up after the notification popped up.

He listened to message with wide eyes. “Hey guys, I think we have another option.” And he played the message so everyone could hear.

“Hey, Mr Hughes,” the tinny voice said through the speaker. “This is Murray Bauman, I’m music producer, we spoke in Las Vegas. I think I have the perfect deal for you boys. You were telling me that touring was really hard on you and that if there was an option you wouldn’t do that. I know you weren’t speaking for all your band, but I could tell that they would do anything for you, all four of you being such good friends.

“So the reason for this call is that I own a small music company in Bloomington and boy do I have a deal for you all. You would make a record through us, we would sell and distribute the record, keeping a portion of the sales, of course. But you wouldn’t have to tour. You have a steady gig as I understand it. If your fans want to see you play, they’ll know where to find you.

“But give me a call, we’ll hash out the details. My phone number is 555-555-2080...” and then message beeped, signaling the end of the voicemail.

Eddie looked down at the phone and then back up at Gareth. “Oh.”

Gareth grinned. “We don’t even have to take his offer, but I vote we listen to it. Brian can bring Cecil.”

Brian nodded. “He’s only got a semester left of law school, but I’ll have him brush up on his contract law to be on the safe side.”

Jeff raised his hand. “All in favor of hearing Mr Bauman out raise your hand?”

Eddie, Brian, and Gareth’s hands shot up.

“Sounds good,” Jeff said. “You call him back and set it up and if it doesn’t work out we can vote again.”

Brian shook his head. “Nah. I think if it doesn’t work, we stick to Nightmare Holes. We took a swing at it and if it’s a miss then we tried. I thought I wanted the touring and everything that came with stardom, but like Eddie I learned I wanted the romanticized version of it. I’ll be happy playing in front of our friends for the rest of our lives.”

The rest of the band nodded.

Soon everyone getting up to go back to Indy, but Steve stayed behind, he would go back up with Eddie in the morning. They had things to discuss that went deeper then the band.

****

Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

I told you I would fix it.

Also a little BTS, the reason in my head for why things went wrong on tour but immediately righted itself when Eddie and Steve met up again? Steve still has Eddie's lucky pick. ;)

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

[mybrainproblems]

hello, i'm finales georg...

i don't want to further clutter up the notes on this post while responding to the tags below but the persistence of the "finale is short/scenes are missing/extra ad break” conspiracies drives me absolutely bananas when i've watched the finale ten times and have posted about this A LOT trying to clear things up. (disclaimer that yes, i'm a goddamn destiel shipper but i care about Facts above all.)

ok but this is weird because i'd swear the episode was shorter (11 missing scenes!) but okay. maybe we all mandela effected ourselves into #beleving that. because it felt shorter. but i will die on the hill that it had another ad break. i understand this person has the thing #recorded with ads so i am thinking maybe different ad breaks in different idk time zones??? #because the finale did air an hour earlier in canada so maybe idk i am reaching here but maybe different states or whatever had different #ad breaks??? as for the last minute changes - wasn't the cover band asked for permission to use their version of carry on like a week before #the thing aired??? so even if the episode was 42 minutes and had no additional ad break - which i am side eying but lets say all was normal #i will always say they were changing thing until the absolute last minute (carry on my wayward son X 2 #the crew on the bridge which is not only giant 4th wall breaking but also wow they really got all those people in one place in times of #covid???) #anyway. tinfoil hat stays on sorry guys :/ (via @officialmisha)

short and snarky: there are plenty of real and sourced examples of network homophobia and scripted/directed destiel scenes being cut to point to. we don’t need to make this stuff up just bc the finale wasn’t what we wanted. so it’s not the mandela effect — it’s ppl repeating a conspiracy/rumor bc it supports their narrative and it’s easier and more fun to repeat something that supports a narrative they already believe (misha or something destiel was cut) vs the boring act of fact checking.

longer circumspect answer with links bc like many ppl i am in my debunking era and i rewatched "roblox_oof" last night.

like i said. i've watched the finale ten times. i’ve gone over the episode with a fine toothed comb and posted a detailed breakdown of timing marks on my blog. it’s actually extremely obvious where the ad breaks are once you know roughly where to look for them (they have a longer fade to black instead of a quick cut scene change). there’s no room for extra ad breaks and i think this conspiracy/rumor persists in part bc the episode feels so sparse in terms of cast and the fact that the episode’s momentum hits a barn post (and rebar) less than 20min into an hour-long programming block.

also i’m begging ppl to actually look at that timing mark post. it’s very straightforward and i spent a lot of time on it. i don’t care if ppl plagiarize it at this point if it means this conspiracy stops. i've got almost every second accounted for.

the "eleven missing scenes" that you're thinking of are probably from the finale script of questionable authenticity that @spnscripthunt acquired back in 2021 which can be found here. it's dated as the “final draft” from 11 sep 2020 and filming on 15x20 wrapped on 10 sep 2020. as noted at the bottom of this superwiki page "[the] script came from someone claiming to have been the person who did the closed captions for the show in Russia. There are some indications that it possibly may not be authentic, but this has not been confirmed."

if we go with the possibility that this was a transcript meant for subtitles, the "omitted" scenes were probably written but never filmed since it's the "final draft" and not a color revision (blue, green, yellow, etc). unfortunately, i’ve lost track of where i read it and a preliminary duckduckgo search isn’t bringing it up bc there's a program for script writing called final draft, but iirc the “final draft” version of a script is a transcript of what was filmed (e.g. there are parts of that 15x20 script that ended up being deleted scenes on the DVD). spnscripthunt also has an example of a confirmed final draft for 09x02 (funnily enough, also a dabb-penned ep). if anyone can confirm with a source that i have the purpose of the “final draft” version designation wrong, please let me know! i love being proven wrong with Facts.

i do want to acknowledge that the two “final drafts” do look different from each other and the 15x20 one doesn't look like a “real” final draft script since it lacks the revision/versioning dates that a script would normally have on the cover page. it could be that it was intended for subtitles; there's the chance it's been re-typed to anonymize it if there was anything indicating who the "owner" was, tho that seems a wee bit cloak and dagger to me. and again: it's considered of questionable authenticity. there are some things that don't quite line up but oh dear god i don't want to get even further out into the weeds than i already am.

i won't disagree that it's weird as hell that neoni only got asked about using their cover seven days prior to the episode airing (tiktok here). my personal theory is that they were hoping to get a more expensive song (maybe a zepp song, idk) and didn't manage to secure the rights in the end. again: this is pure conjecture on my part! but i could absolutely see someone working on the show hearing neoni’s cover and liking it and then maybe they were using it as a placeholder until it got down to the wire and they had to make a call/send the ep to networks. because yes, it is baffling they played a song and then a cover of it with only a 40 second break between. (i do actually really like the neoni cover! the placement is just weird and i think it could have worked if they had the kansas version at the beginning and closed with neoni's full cover.)

as to the 4th wall break COVID stuff: robert singer talked with variety magazine about filming the last two episodes and the logistics of filming during a pandemic. whether they should have been filming during a pandemic is a separate discussion but their use of office vs set pods, strict quarantining and daily testing meant that they had zero positive tests in the month they were filming (18 aug to 10 sep). so given all that, i personally don’t think it’s totally out of pocket to have everyone standing outdoors on a bridge for maybe an hour to get a drone shot of them together. (i won’t get into incubation periods and viral load, but if everyone tested negative that day and every day for a month prior, it was a fairly low risk scene to film outdoors and for all we know everyone was masked until the last possible second. there were plenty of outdoor masked protests in 2020 that weren't superspreader events.)

and before anyone brings up “but misha was in vancouver!” i know someone who looked into it and they said no dice, nothing matched up between the backgrounds in those pics and places in vancouver. his statements about “us” going back to set over the summer were pretty generic in hindsight and “we”/"us" could be him or the spn crew generally. unfortunately i’m not able to find those tweets but the use of “we” was likely so as not to give away he wouldn’t be returning to set. (bc we were absolutely casbaited!) and bc it comes up a lot: the "onion field pic" was from when they were filming 15x17 and was not taken while filming 15x19 and 15x20.

besides, it would be ridiculous to go through the financial and logistical headaches of bringing someone into the country to film during a pandemic, only to cut their scenes in the end! honestly, the script is pretty tight when the scenes are given so much breathing room! the only thing i could see being further cut down is The Monologue and even then, i don’t think there was any intent to cut it down given it was filmed in fairly long takes.

i’ve said it many times before, but i believe the finale was fucked long before they returned to set. walker got the green light in sep 2019 and it was being marketed heavily as a “follow on” show to spn given jared’s involvement. the demo they were courting for walker has little to no overlap with the demo for destiel fans — why would they want a finale that catered to a demo they weren't interested in courting? we just went through a historic double strike that exposed so much of the rot of business interests overriding creative vision. this isn't completely unfounded conjecture.

i will not apologize for the length of this bc i wanted to be thorough, but i do want to give context that i think the reason these conspiracies and rumors grind my gears so much is because anyone can fact check all of this. the truth is out there and absolutely none of it is that hard to find. the most time consuming/difficult part of this was finding someone who had a DVR’d copy of the finale from when it aired live and they actually found me themselves after i’d been low key asking around for a year!

and like. i get it. conspiracies are fun. but there are so many sourced instances of network homophobia and destiel being cut that it's like. why is this something folks are hanging onto? the cw is notorious for having upper level meddling with finales bc there's a follow-on show they want to shuffle fans along to and spn is no exception.

[whumpsday]

Astarion and the Cleric #1: Lesser Restoration

Masterlist / AO3 Link (first time posting on ao3 since original fiction doesn't get traction there and this is my first fanfic :P)

content: baldur's gate 3 (fandom), astarion/tav (ship), vampire whumpee, starvation, comfort, caretaking, blood drinking

so i'm trying something new! never really been a fanfic person, only ever really written original fiction before, but astarion's been taking over my brain. so i wrote some incredibly self-indulgent fic for astarion and my tav. this is maybe the least whumpy thing i've ever written lol. prob cuz the game has so much whump already. there will be whump further in the series tho, and i have some VERY whumpy AUs planned too.

-

It was a no-brainer to decide which of his delectable new companions to snack on. Astarion had been thinking about it ever since he realized that Cazador’s control over him had slipped. A free man, he no longer had to obey his wretched master’s orders. He could feed on whoever and whatever he liked, whenever he liked.

And of his soundly sleeping campmates, the pick was obvious: Gentle. Even his name advertised him as the one least likely to put up a fight if he awoke in the process. He was small for a tiefling, not offering as much in the way of blood volume as someone like Karlach, but he would do nicely.

Would do nicely, if only he hadn’t been such a light sleeper. Astarion had scarcely hovered himself over his curled-up form when his eyes flew open.

“Shit.”

Gentle woke all at once, before Astarion could steal so much as a nibble. He squeaked in terror, not quite a scream, grasping half-asleep for his quarterstaff.

“What are you doing?” the cleric asked, voice pitched with fear, clutching the staff close like a treasured plush toy.

“No, no–It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” Losing his place in the group would be far worse than another hungry night, a severance of all means of protection. That was, if the little priestling and his friends didn’t stake him outright. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed– well, blood. It’s not what you think! I’m not–”

“Astarion, it’s okay!” Gentle interrupted, lowering his staff as the fear left his eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize. You’ve been suffering this whole time.”

The complete sincerity was almost sickening, as relieved as Astarion was at the priestling’s ready acceptance. “Yes, well, I’ve certainly been peckish.”

“You can have my blood,” Gentle offered, pulling the neck of his shirt down a little.

Just like that. So utterly easy. He hadn’t even needed to ask nor justify.

Astarion couldn’t stifle a small laugh at the absurdity. “My, you certainly know what to say to a man.”

“I would never knowingly let you go hungry.” There it was again, that cloying sweetness. If the cleric hadn’t been actively helping him, Astarion might have been more inclined to roll his eyes at the display.

“And I appreciate it ever so much,” he replied smoothly. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

Gentle blushed a deep violet, a reminder of the blood that would soon be his. “Yes, I suppose we shall.”

Astarion directed him to lie down, positioning himself over the cleric before sinking his fangs into his neck. It was absolutely decadent. This must have been why Cazador saw fit to deny him the blood of thinking creatures, reserving such a luxury only for himself.

He was so lost in it, he didn’t notice Gentle’s little gasps until he felt a timid tap on his shoulder. “Astarion?” he piped up, “Could you stop for a moment?”

It wasn’t enough. He wanted to drain the cleric dry from head to toe, every last drop sating what he’d been wrongfully denied for so long.

But he had an image to maintain.

“Of course.” He wrested his fangs from Gentle’s neck, standing up and stepping back.

“Just a moment,” Gentle repeated as he sat up, motioning Astarion closer.

Curious, Astarion returned to sit beside Gentle’s bedroll. “Oh?”

The cleric clasped his hands together, his palms emitting a soft, blue light. “Te absolvo!”

For a moment, Gentle’s whole body glowed the same soft blue. It faded as quickly as it came, leaving him with a little sigh of relief.

“There we go,” he breathed, lying back. “You can continue. I apologize for interrupting you in your time of need, but I felt as though I’d faint otherwise.” He tilted his head to the side slightly, inviting him back to the bite wound. “I have plenty more blood now.”

Astarion stared in disbelief. “You’re quite the character, you know. Though I can’t say I’m not a fan of your little eccentricities at the moment.”

“He wept for the hungry,” the cleric recited dutifully, likely quoting some dogma. “I’m honored to be of service.”

Never had Astarion been so thankful for one of Faerûn’s useless gods.

After he’d truly gorged himself on hearty tiefling blood and Gentle had cast Lesser Restoration a second time, the two sat in the warm glow of the crackling fire, Astarion’s stomach full for what felt like the first time in forever.

“Do you feel better?” Gentle asked, rubbing the sore skin of his neck.

“I do.” It was an understatement. He’d scarcely felt this good since the night he became Cazador’s. “Good, strong, happy. I should be of far more use in fighting.”

Gentle hummed anxiously. “Don’t like fights,” he murmured. He smiled anyway. “I’m glad you feel better. May you suffer no more. Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t realize you were a vampire, I could have offered you aid sooner.”

“If I’d known you’d throw yourself at my feet, I wouldn’t have bothered hiding it,” Astarion said lightly. “Most wouldn’t be so…” Naive. Foolish. Suicidal. “Trusting.”

“Help all who hurt, no matter who they are. The truly holy take on the suffering of others. Suffer in His name…” Gentle trailed off, suddenly aware that Astarion wouldn’t care to hear it all. “I’m a devotee of Ilmater. It is my pledge.”

Lucky, lucky, lucky. Astarion doubted the Sharran would be so generous.

“Besides,” Gentle continued, “Regardless of my faith, I wanted to help.”

“Hm. Well, praise be to Ilmater.” Astarion tried his best to keep the cynicism out of his voice, not fully succeeding. He stood, preparing to go back to his tent. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

“You can feed every night, if you’d like.” Gentle looked up at him with unabashed compassion. “It’s no trouble. Just get me when I’m awake next time, so I won’t be so startled.”

Astarion smiled, no longer taking care to hide his fangs. “That can be arranged.”

-

everything taglist (lmk if you only wanna be tagged in original fic):

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

[metalbvcky]

ten questions for writers

Thanks for tagging me @musette22!! 💖 These are always super fun!

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

I recently hit 60!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

534,389

3. what fandoms do you write for?

MCU (Stucky). I haven't posted a Bloom poly fic with Loki in forever, but that'll change one day 😙

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Even with weeks of procrastination, yes! It takes me an hour if not longer to get through a handful or two of comments lol I love to ramble.

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

UGH. Yeah, I have. It was 2020 and I was still new to writing in the fandom. and one day I was curious to google my username and... lo and behold someone on Wattpad copy/pasted my entire 54k Doctor Bucky fic. They also reposted a ton of other people's work, but thankfully Wattpad stepped in and everything down. I confronted this person too and they acted dumb like they didn't know it was mine 🙄 I even went to the lengths of messaging a few commenters who thought the reposter was me (the author) and one insulted me claiming "AO3 is too hard to use." Idiots!!

6. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet! Unless you count a few Bloom fics that spiraled out of control lolol.

7. what’s your all-time favourite ship?

One has a metal arm, the other has a giant shield. WHO COULD THAT BE??

8. what are your writing strengths?

Scenery descriptions? Humor, crack. Smut, I've definitely improved since five-ish years ago. Transforming a short oneshot into a long multichapter fic, if you want to include that LOL.

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

ENDING A STORY. They end like falling off a cliff sometimes, I swear, or it feels like it to me. Also: plot planning. I'm attempting to wrangle my next longfic in, and while I do have a good amount brainstormed, I still feel like I'll be winging it lol. Which isn't shocking or anything since I'm really a planster.

10. first fandom you wrote for?

Officially, Stucky. Unofficially... OCs for an online game that (technically) no longer operates. I will not go further than that lol.

Randomly tagging: @late-to-the-party-81 @blackwood4stucky @otpcutie @snarkythewoecrow @fsbc-librarian @apple-writes

[muse-oleum]

Always & Forever

okay, hi, welcome, i'm really unsure about this because i've never written something quite so heavy or, in fact, anything Elejah at all so, um, be nice? pwease? and if you see typos, as always, no you didn't. this came about because i recently re-read two masterpieces of the Elejah variety: We Remain, by Anonymous Obssesser (@deathloveshischicagopizza on this platform, sure hope i got that right lmao) and She's Come Undone and Set Free, by @terapsina. and it got the brain juices flowing and the creative bugs going.

you can find me here on ao3. this has also been cross-posted over there.

WARNING: very brief discussion of non-con/rape (because Damon is a dick) but it's more implied than anything else.

as for my ElijahxOC fic readers (if there are any here) i swear to god i'm in the process of writing a new chapter, i promise.

Always and forever. 

Looking up at the intimidating walls of the infamous Abattoir, Elena kept those words close to her heart, like a talisman against the dangers she knew lurked inside. 

She wasn’t afraid of him. She never truly had been, aside from their first meeting, forever ago in that decrepit mansion in the middle of nowhere. But she was unsure about his brother, and the kingdom he ruled over. Even now, a mere hour after the sun had set, she could see vampires flitting in and out through the doorway, obviously on a mission for their evil hybrid overlord. 

Elena took a deep breath, calming her heart. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t think of him in those terms anymore. They were long past that, they had to be, for her own sanity. Besides, the moral high ground was no longer hers to stand on. 

She took one step, then another, forcing her legs to move despite the fear. She knew she couldn’t stay the way she was, alone and scared. She knew who she could trust. 

She always had. 

Hyperaware as she was, she could feel everything. The stares on her as she made her way through a square courtyard, the back and forth glide of her purse against her hip, the smell of blood and bourbon—a scent she had come to associate with New Orleans—but most of all she felt the moment he saw her, as if ripples crashed against her chest in tiny little shockwaves. 

A vampire zoomed in front of her, fangs out, eyes flashing red, no doubt trying to intimidate her; that’s how vampiric hierarchy worked (another thing they had neglected to teach her). He didn’t know she had known far, far worse. 

She often wondered if the Salvatores knew the first thing about being vampires. She supposed she was lucky Rose had told her some things, the last time she was in town, such as how to act around older, stronger vampires before you inadvertently got your head swiped clean off your shoulders. Or else, she probably would have been long dead, again. 

Still, she submitted, as she had always done. She cast her eyes down, her jugular on clear display, and waited. The vampire, a dark-skinned man with wide eyes, immediately stood back, cocking his head slightly. Then he straightened, a telltale look of fear in his eyes. 

“I’d recommend not doing that again, Diego.”

His voice, soft and dangerous, just the way she remembered it. But the danger was never for her, not even when he’d cracked the earth open and abandoned her to his sister’s less than tender mercy in that underground cave he knew so well. 

Elijah Mikaelson was dangerous. 

To everyone else. 

“Elena.”

She fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t help it, she’d missed the sound of her name on his lips. The way he accented the word a little differently than everyone else, how even when he was stressed or angry, he’d always said her name with a little bit of wonder, an awestruck tone she couldn’t quite understand. She had always been special, she knew—to her parents, their little girl; to her brother, his only sibling; to her friends, the listening ear; to the brothers, for her face; and then, to him. She didn’t understand how she was special to him, but she was, she knew it. His tone of voice gave him away, every time, the soft lilting of the syllables, pronounced with care, each of them a caress that soothed some strange part of her brain.

“Elijah.”

She met his eyes, wider and darker than she remembered them. Actually, no, that wasn’t right, they had been even darker in Willoughby, when he’d kissed her. 

Not her. Katherine. 

She forced the thought away, she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She had other, bigger, problems only an Original brother could help her with. She almost thanked Klaus and his godforsaken curse for bringing him into her life, however inadvertently, because she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him now. 

Probably staked herself. 

“Can we—” she faltered a bit, eyeing the vampires listening in, trying to pretend they weren’t interested in what a baby vampire could have to say to the king of the city that would warrant even a moment of his time. Because he was the king, she had no doubt about that. Klaus may be the face, but Elijah was the hand behind it all. 

She swallowed, putting her blinders on, taking a deep breath. “Can we talk?”

He observed her, his head tilted to the side, a small frown on his brow. She could tell her demeanor alone puzzled him, but she wasn’t surprised. After all, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been on a rampage across the country, his little sister in tow, searching for a cure she obviously had not taken. He rallied quickly, turning halfway, gesturing to door behind him. It led to an indoor dining room area and she briefly panicked; It was too reminiscent of the boarding house. 

“Not—not here, hum… Would you mind…?” She turned back towards the lobby, the doors still wide open. 

He softened, his hands going back into his pockets. A clear message to her—an everyone else—that he meant no harm. She’d learned that particular tell of his long ago. 

“Of course.” 

She felt his hand at the small of her back as they walked outside into the evening air. She still felt slightly claustrophobic indoors, even in an open courtyard, the presence of a dozen vampiric eyes on her certainly not helping. It reminded her too much of the almost scientific fascination the brothers had when they were trying to force her back into a humanity she wasn’t certain she wanted anymore. 

And therein laid her problem. 

The switch was back on, she knew that; she could feel it, just as she herself simply… felt. But it wasn’t pushed back completely, there was a jam, a missing piece, a core memory she still couldn’t access. Part of her wondered if it was for her own good, the other part wanted to let everything back in and be done with it. As things stood now, she had only half the story behind her sudden emotion-free spree, and she knew there was more lurking behind that door. 

But she wasn’t sure how to access it on her own, and she needed the help on the only other vampire she could trust to do it right. 

This limbo state—on but not on; back to herself but not completely—made her incredibly vulnerable. She could feel the imbalance in her soul, as corny as that sounded, because she was missing something—something she needed in order to move on fully, to become herself again, even in this new skin. 

Caroline couldn’t help her, although she understood what the problem was and it was ironically her who had suggested the solution that had been staring her in the face all this time. She needed help from someone who had studied vampirism better than anyone else, and that person walked by her side now, silent as he let her gather her thoughts. She took a breath, let it out, relishing the fresh air. 

Well, as fresh as it could be in the Big Easy. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her voice still too small for her liking. She wasn’t afraid of him, dammit! She was simply afraid of every other man. But she didn’t know how to let him know that, and she could tell he was worried. 

“What would you prefer?” He asked right back, ever the gentleman. 

She shrugged. “You know the city better than I do.”

He smiled. “There’s a bar not far that my siblings and I like to frequent on occasion. Unless you would prefer dinner?”

She shivered slightly, either to the thought of “dinner” or his voice, she wasn’t sure. 

“The bar will do.”

She wasn’t even surprised when he opened the door to Rousseau’s, she really should have known. He noticed her half-smile when they sat down, cocking an eyebrow in question. She shook her head, amused. 

“That’s the first bar I stopped at when I first arrived in the city.” Figures you’d do the same, but she didn’t say that. 

“Yes, it’s quite… quaint,” he replied, lips quirking up slightly, somehow managing not to make it sound like an insult, “it’s also where I first stopped by when I came back.”

Yeah, figures. 

“Did you know it, back in the day?” 

He shook his head, smiling a little more fully as a blonde bartender approached them. “Not very well, it was ran by a werewolf family my brother and I preferred to avoid dealing with whenever possible.”

“NOLA problems?”

“NOLA problems.”

The bartender, Camille, judging by her name tag, reached their table and Elena was surprised when Elijah engaged her in a short but clearly familiar conversation. Camille seemed equally surprised to find him here at this hour, seated with a woman. Clearly, it wasn’t a habit of his. She chose not to analyze how that made her feel. 

“What can I get you?” She asked with a friendly smile. She really was quite beautiful. 

Unsurprisingly, Elijah asked for bourbon. Elena stifled a laugh, asking her to make her whatever she fancied most. This time, it was Elijah’s turn to chuckle and Camille joined him, shaking her head. 

“Family habit, I see.”

Elena froze, eyes growing wide, but Elijah didn’t contradict her and Camille went on her merry way back to the bar, only throwing one furtive glance back. 

“Family habit?”

Elijah shook his head, rearranging his glass so it sat just so in front of him. She valiantly resisted the urge to push it back just to mess with him. 

“I may or may not have told her the exact same thing when I first met her. She’s become somewhat of a friend of ours since then.”

“She seems nice.”

He nodded, pensive again. She managed to hold eye contact for all of three seconds before looking back down at her hands, fiddling with the string of her purse. 

“Elena.”

She looked back up just as Camille brought them their drinks. Cautiously, she took a sip, surprised at the depth of flavors that exploded on her tongue. Her wonder must have shown  on her face because Camille laughed.

“I’ve learned a thing or two about making vampires drinks. I hope it’s to your taste?”

Elena shot her a look, taken aback, but Elijah simply smiled. 

“You can call me Cami, by the way. I hate my full name but Elijah still hasn’t fully internalized that yet.”

The man in question simply sniffed, the epitome of snobbishness, and Elena laughed. It wasn’t her laugh from before, but she had missed the sensation anyway. 

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I don’t think he ever will.”

Cami sighed dramatically, tucking her tray under her arm. 

“Yeah, I think I got that. Anyway, enjoy!” She gave them another smile and moved on to another table. 

With her gone, Elena was once again confronted by her own feelings, bubbling up to the surface. The drink helped, turning down the faucet of emotions a little, just so she could breathe without it hurting too much. She brought her hands on the table, lowering her drink, her index finger running in circles around the rim. 

“Elena?”

This time her name was a question, one she couldn’t hope to evade. She shouldn’t anyway, that’s why she was here in the first place but damn was it hard to force herself to look back up into his eyes. 

“What happened?”

He asked the question flat out, the frown returning. 

“How do you know anything happened?”

“Because I know that nothing would bring you within a hundred miles of my brother of your own free will.”

“I’m here of my own free will,” she said, too quickly. His frown deepened. 

“Is anyone here with you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, I came on my own.”

His eyebrows shot up right into his hairline and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, when had the Salvatores ever let her do something on her own, much less when it involved him? 

“They…” she swallowed, “they don’t know I’m here. Nobody does.” She released a quiet laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I expect they’re all up in arms back home, wondering where I’ve gone.”

She looked back down at her drink, taking a sip. Her finger beat a restless rhythm against the glass. Slowly, Elijah reached over, giving her time to evade him if she wanted to, and brought his hand to cover hers. 

“Elena, sweetheart, what happened?”

The endearment flowed from his lips seemingly without his own accord, if the slight widening of his eyes was any indication. His jaw clicked shut, his eyes flickered back down to their hands, but he didn’t take it back.

Elena rather liked the way it sounded. 

She took a breath.

“You know my humanity was off a few weeks back, yes?”

Of course, he knew. She’d practically spat it in his face right before Katherine did a very Katherine thing and snapped her neck like a twig. Idiot. 

He just nodded silently. 

“Well, what I didn’t tell you back then was that I, hum… I—I was sired. To Damon. He—I… There was… a sire bond. Between us.” 

Elijah went deadly still, the motion of his thumb running across the back of her hand stilling. His eyes hardened impossibly, but she knew whatever it was that he was feeling, it wasn’t meant for her. Or rather, it wasn’t aimed at her. 

“You were sired,” he said flatly, tonelessly. 

And here was the Elijah she remembered from that mansion in the fields. 

“It was… a side effect, I just… I—” she faltered, her eyes dropping back to her hands. She tried to escape his grasp but he wouldn’t let her, resuming his caress. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and the tension bled from his shoulders. 

“Did he know?”

No use disguising it. 

“Yes.”

The air became even more still. 

“He knew you were sired to him while the two of you were together?”

Elijah looked faintly sick, the tick in his jaw growing more intense. 

“Yes.”

Another deep breath, deeper than the last. She felt his hand twitch over hers, but the soothing motion of his thumb never stopped. 

“Did he attempt to free you, at least?” He asked. She shook her head. And then he asked the question she’d been dancing around for the past twenty minutes. “Did he demand you turn it off?”

Elena heard the unspoken question, the one she knew would tip it all over. But she couldn’t lie to him, she’d never been very good at it anyway. 

“Yes.”

Everything went quiet, the air became electric, like the calm before the storm, right before the first rumble of thunder could be heard and the first lightning strike the sky clean in half. Right now, Elijah’s eyes were that sky, dark and stormy, a rage so potent in them she was strangely fascinated by it. The muscle of his jaw tensed impossibly more and she worried he might crack it entirely. 

She had never seen him so angry. 

If not for the soft contact between their hands, she might have been a little scared. Just a little. Because she remembered those words and in that moment, there was perfect clarity. 

Always and forever. 

She was quite certain that, should she ask him to end her sire, to bring her his head, he would. Happily, gleefully and without a hint of regret. She wasn’t sure she herself would feel any, and wasn’t that a nasty little surprise. 

She should feel regret. She knew that even just bringing up the subject with him meant placing Damon (and by extension, Stefan) in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything. She’d waited so long to give voice to those feelings—the shame, the disgust, the loathing, the pain. She would not take them back now. 

“Say the word, lovely Elena, and he will suffer.”

It really shouldn’t have been even remotely attractive, the way he said it. But it was, and she let herself feel it. 

“I… I don’t know what I want.”

Elijah nodded, a tiny movement of his head, but full of understanding. She took a breath. One hard part was done, but there was still the larger question, looming in the back of her skull. She was more than a little worried, though. What she wanted to ask him—what she needed him to do… that would violate the terms of their friendship like never before. She didn’t want to ask it of him but she knew she needed to remember something else, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. But she knew it was important. Her brain was shielding her for a reason, but she—the Elena who had had her choices taken from her at every turn since her transformation—needed to know. 

Or else how could she hope to feel whole again? 

So, she straightened, automatically readying herself to launch into an x, y, z explanation of why that was the best choice—and why she was making it.

“There’s something else.”

Elijah tensed, she was surprised that she managed to notice it at all. 

“But we can’t do this here…” she chewed on her lip, eyes flickering between him and the other patrons in the bar. “Is there somewhere… somewhere more…” she gestured wordlessly, tired already.

But Elijah had never needed words to understand her, certainly not with the way he was watching her now. It was strangely reminiscent of a hawk, but it wasn’t discomforting. 

Maybe an owl. A wise, old owl trying to figure out the puzzle before him. Funnily, she had never before thought of herself as “puzzling” but judging by his look, she might have to reconsider. She was, in her honest opinion, an incredibly simple person: she loved her family and friends, was far too oblivious of things until it was too late, took her coffee ninety percent black, and never failed to help out when it was needed. 

But looking at herself in Elijah’s dark brown eyes the reflection she saw was not one of simplicity. 

“There is somewhere more discreet. I doubt anyone will be here at this hour.”

“Not even vampires?” She asked as he helped her out of her chair. 

He smirked. Elijah Mikaelson actually honest to god smirked at her.

“They know better.”

She laughed. 

❧

“A church? Seriously?”

Elijah made a show of ushering her in, suited up arm extended in invitation. 

“It’s not even Sunday.”

“Thankfully.”

In the silence of the church, Elena repressed a giggle with great difficulty. It was quieter than a tomb, inside. Although, she really wasn’t sure who had first come up with this particular phrase, but she’d love to hear their explanation because in her informed opinion, tombs were anything but quiet. There was always the whisper of the wind, the pitter-patter of bugs and rodents foraging in the cracked stones paving the way to the afterlife. 

Or maybe that was just her experience since she’d turned.

Huh.

She took in her surroundings. It was obvious that the place had sat deserted for a while but had just been opened up again. There were wood planks lined along the walls and several canvas sheets haphazardly thrown around on the pews. 

“Where are we?” She asked, taking in the smell of dust, wood and stone. 

Elijah’s footsteps echoed behind her. “St Anne’s Church. Our local priest seems to be out tonight.”

“You know the priest?”

He had been pagan, in his youth, right?

Elijah gave her his signature half-smile in response, dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on one the benches. “He’s Camille’s uncle.”

“Small world.”

“Welcome to New Orleans.”

Exhaling on a chuckle, Elena sat down on one of the benches, somewhere between the door and the altar, at the middle point of the nave. She didn’t know why but she didn’t feel good enough to sit at the front. Elijah took a seat next to her, their shoulders brushing together, his presence grounding her. On a whim, before she could think better of it, she grasped his hand, gripping perhaps a little too tightly. He didn’t complain, simply resuming his earlier soothing caresses on the back of hers. 

“I need to ask you something, Elijah.”

“You can ask anything of me, lovely Elena.”

He was sincere. She didn’t have to look at him to know that. 

“You probably won’t like it.” She warned.

He tilted his head in question; she heard the soft sound of his collar brushing against his jaw.

She took the plunge and braced herself for the ice cold rush of the water. 

“I need you to compel me.” 

❧

Whatever it was that Elijah had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that. 

His shoulders tensed on instinct, his lips parting on a soft gasp. Elena’s hand gripped his tighter, perhaps afraid he would let go.

He never could have, anyway. 

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, meeting the wide-eyed stare he couldn’t even begin to disguise. There was a pleading at the bottom of hers, pooling in the form of tears that gathered on her lashes before falling softly, tracing her cheeks with wet streaks. He fought against the urge to wipe them away. 

“I need you to help me remember something. There’s… I—” she took in a breath, exhaled, completely oblivious to the feeling that ignited in him when heard the words “need” and “you” in the same sentence, coming from her. She tried again. “There’s something… something I can’t place, a… a darkness that lingers at the edge of my mind when I try to think back on what happened.” 

He brought his hand up then, unable to face her tears and remain still. He caught a strand of her and brought it behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful face. The wide doe eyes that met his could only belong to her. 

“What happened when?” He prompted, gently running his thumb back and forth along her jaw. 

She sighed, leaning into his touch. He marveled at being able to touch her so freely. 

“When I was still sired to Damon.” 

The way she bit out the words made his heart clench. There was indeed something in her eyes, a strange haunting of sorts. It darkened the edges of her eyes slightly, turning warm brown into dark chocolate. It would have been quite bewitching if not for her tears. 

Centuries of instinct suddenly woke up in his chest, growling as it shook itself awake, unfurling from a long sleep.

“I just… I need to make sure of something.” She rushed on, “I know that my brain is likely trying to protect me but—” she growled softly, tugging her hair back, “but I don’t want to be protected. I want to remember it all.” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid, catching a single tear, making her sigh again. She seemed to shrink, releasing his hand and drawing her arms around herself. He recognized it for the protection mechanism it was. 

The beast in his chest growled louder. 

“I feel like half myself and I don’t even know why. It’s exhausting.”

She looked back up at him, her beautiful eyes full of unshed tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He was powerless to resist. He knew then he would do whatever it was she asked of him if only to never have to see her cry again. 

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

The relief in her eyes was unmistakable. He realized with a start that she had expected him to argue with her. He pursued his lips, caressing her jaw again. These… children truly had worked a number on her. 

“I need you to compel me to remember it all. Tell me to remember everything that happened while I was under the influence of the sire bond.” She said in as determined a tone as he had ever heard from her. 

And so, he complied. 

Gently, he took her face in his hands, holding her tenderly, like she was made of porcelain. He supposed, in his hands, she always would be. And he compelled her, her pupils dilating as she took in his order, body growing first lax and then as taught as a bowstring. Her hand shot out to dig into his thigh and the feeling would have registered as painful if his attention hadn’t been fixed on the utter devastation on her face. 

She took a breath but it came out as a sob, a heart wrenching sound that tore him apart. 

“He… oh my god, he—” she looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he felt the beast in his heart bare its teeth, “he… he didn’t… oh god—oh god, no, I—I didn’t want to! I didn’t! Oh my god—” she whimpered, and he finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

Slowly, gently, he took her in his arms as she sobbed. She molded to him, her small hands gripping his shirt so tightly he was certain she would rip it off. She curled up, half in his lap, and buried her head against his neck, her tears soaking his collar. 

He was certain of only one thing as he gently rocked her against him, wincing as the scream she let out into his shoulder tore though his heart.

Damon Salvatore would die a slow, painful death for what he had done. 

❧

Elena wasn’t sure how long she cried in Elijah’s arms, only that he never once let her go. He was careful not to hold her too tightly, and she knew he had understood the magnitude of what she had just uncovered. 

Damon hadn’t stopped himself from sleeping with her while she was under the influence of the sire bond. He hadn’t tried to free her from it, once he’d known, and he’d carried on as things were and she, helpless to do anything but please him, had done exactly just that. 

But now, with the veil lifted, she knew in her heart that she hadn’t wanted to. It was too soon after Stefan, too early in her transition. The feelings of love had been heightened by her Turning and by the sire bond, turning into a deadly cocktail of dependence. If only she had known. 

She whimpered, a broken sob wrenching its way out of her—how many did she have left? It couldn’t be many, she was so very tired. 

Elijah’s arms tightened around her, his hand stroking her hair gently. She felt the ghost of his lips at the crown of her head, the touch doing more to calm her than anything had so far. 

She hadn’t wanted to sleep with Damon. But she had anyway, forced by the sire bond. 

And it should matter to her that he hadn’t known that. That he hadn’t known that she didn’t want him like that, not yet anyway, but it didn’t. It should matter that, technically, he had also been a victim of the sire bond, unable to stop it, but it didn’t. Because once he had known, he hadn’t taken steps to help her out of it and she wasn’t in a position to help herself. 

He got exactly what he wanted. 

A Katherine do-over. 

Elena barely registered the anger before she was flipping an entire bench over, throwing it against the walls of the church. There was a vicious feeling in her chest, clawing its way out and she lashed out again, ripping the legs off of the bench and breaking them in half, the wood splintering into her hands, drawing blood from cuts that healed almost immediately. 

Fury, that was the feeling. 

It was so unfamiliar that she was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it. 

Her eyes flashed red, veins rippling on her cheeks and she flipped another bench on its head before collapsing on the floor, crying again. 

She had loved him. Had been on her way to falling in love with him. 

And he had betrayed her. 

She was so very tired. Tired of feeling, tired of remembering, tired of existing. The pain of that betrayal, the shame that came with it, added to the duller, less pronounced pain of his hand in shutting off that part of her that made her her protruded from her heart in sharp edges and she distantly wondered if that’s what being staked felt like. 

Until she felt Elijah’s arms around her once more. Effortlessly, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like she was something infinitely precious to him. She barely registered the blur of movements and the wind in her hair that indicated he was running. She was so bone tired that the comforting warmth of the blanket he draped over her before running a hand down the side of her face barely registered with her either. 

Through the haze of her tears, she saw his face, eyebrows drawn together in worry. He tucked the blanket a little higher under her chin and she managed to grasp onto the edges, burrowing under it. 

“Is there anything you need?” His voice was pained, a small crack the dead giveaway to the unbelievable fury she could feel rolling off him. 

She shook her head, sniffling. 

“Do you want me to call your friends? Caroline, perhaps?”

All she could do was shrug, entirely unsure about everything. Her world had just toppled over. But Elijah hadn’t. He was here, as stalwart as he had always been and there was at least an inkling of hope that lit up in her at that. 

She had been right. 

She was right to trust him. 

[artficlly]

the shadow (miniseries - part one)

Post Endgame Avengers AU miniseries - part one

avenger!bucky x widow!reader avenger!yelena x widow!reader (platonic)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Reader is an ex-black widow sniper who escaped the Red Room with the help of Yelena and Natasha. After working as an illegal hired gun, Yelena recruits the reader to the team as a sniper. The reader is closed off, not wanting to form connections or friends with anyone. Though, as their shell begins to crack, they notice they have a lot in common with a certain Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: violence, death, wound descriptions, lots of blood and gore, mention of weapons, swearing, low self-esteem reader, mentions of past non-con, lots of angst. lmk if anything needs to be added.

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: hi! this is a pretty angsty/gorey fic I've had in my brain for awhile now. i don't know if many people will vibe with this, so might just be written for my weird interests lol. i think this will be two, maybe three parts? I just wanted something a bit more intense to work on alongside face the music (which is a more wholesome college au multi chapter fic). I'm very interested in exploring the 'what if' side of what happens to all the widows once they escape. I am also a sucker for feminist readings/feminine rage so this is a fun outlet. I have some plans for more ex-widow content (maybe longer series) but i wanted to get this mini-series up as a sort of taster! there isn't a heap of bucky barnes content in this part, but oh boy, there is some coming in the next part!! not proof read - pls forgive any typos.

main masterlist

Many unexpected things had happened during your life, even before you were old enough to understand how unexpected they were. 

Firstly, you had been torn from your birth family at a young age. You never knew if your family had willingly given you up. You had heard tales of starving mothers, selling their children in order to survive. Other tales said that the mothers refused to sell their children. Though, a mothers love was not enough to sustain through the Russian winters. Those mothers died for the love of their children, but regardless their children were still taken by the Red Room. 

Others whispered that the women of the Red Room were specifically chosen for their genetics, hunted down and stolen. There was no regard for a mothers love, only the possibility of another weapon to create. 

Deep down you could hope that your mother had loved you. 

You would never know. 

The second unexpected thing to happen in your life was when you escaped. Much like the other Widows, you had spent most of your life under the control of men. You had been a weapon, faceless, deadly. You had survived the training that many didn’t and that was the only thing that made you of value. The discovery of a life beyond the Red Room? A life beyond what you had been crafted for? Freedom was more frightening than any mission or task you had undertaken. 

With the Red Room gone, thanks to Yelena Belova and Natalia Alianovna? You were purposeless. You were a small ship, lost at sea. You were a small ball of rock, hurtling through space, burning up and dying out. There was no reason for you to exist, there was no life for you. You were a killer, a monster. Why did you deserve peace? How could you ever find peace with all the blood on your hands? You were raised to be a killer, and a killer you were. 

In the Red Room you were The Shadow. A faceless sniper, one of the best in the world. You did your job, and you did it well. Even after you were freed, you continued to work as a sniper to find some meaning. You were good at disconnecting from your emotions. Taking the shot wasn’t one to sweat, you floated above your body and pulled that fucking trigger. 

The people who hired you didn't know your name. They didn’t see your face. You were a weapon and you would kill without question. A father, a mother, a child? It didn’t make a difference to you. It was just another target. Even if you were free from Dreykov, you were still the weapon he had built you to be. As much as you tried, as much as you fought, screamed and cried. You were a Widow, a faceless killer, a nobody, a Shadow. 

The third unexpected thing to happen in your life was Yelena Belova. She was a force, hurtling into your life. You had never expected it. You thought once she freed all the Widow's it would be over. She wouldn’t need to associate with her fellow Widows anymore. She was a hero, she made it big. She would become an Avenger like Natalia. Start over, fresh face, new name. Natalia, Natasha. She had been a hero, she had freed all of the Widows. You? You were a gun for hire, bottom of the barrel scum. 

Yet, there Yelena had stood, reaching out to pull you from the snake pit. 

You had been hired for an inside job, some drug deal with the potential to go very wrong. You were to keep watch, blow out the brains of their competitor if necessary. You didn’t think into the ethics, you just shot who you were told to shoot. You should’ve known Yelena would keep tabs on you, you should’ve known that day would come. Even if you were nameless and faceless, you were still a weapon. The world doesn’t just lose weapons, no, they either used them or prayed for their untimely death. 

The deal went messy, as anticipated. You went to shoot but a foot was on your rifle making you pause. 

“You’re getting sloppy, Shadow.” The blonde had tutted at you. “I have been standing here, for what? Two minutes? You didn’t even see me.” 

You didn’t know why her speaking Russian shocked you so much. You had spent so many years dealing with Americans and Europeans that you had slipped into the comfort of English too easily. You had just assumed that the world of superheroes had Americanised Yelena, like they had Natasha. But there she was, Yelena fucking Belova in the flesh. Your third unexpected thing. 

“Come to tell me off for being a bad girl, Belova?” You teased, hand subtly finding the knife at your thigh out of instinct. You doubted Yelena had come here to kill you, you had heard through the grapevine about her little mission. She had spent two years freeing Widows across the globe. Though, you couldn’t help but notice that Yelena was armed to the teeth. Knives and guns tucked into hidden pockets through her black suit. You had heard she had become an Avenger - well atleast what was left of the team. Stepping into Natasha's role, she wanted to do good so bad. You could never be that, a hero. You weren’t meant to be anything other than another man’s blade or bullet. 

After Steve Rogers death, the Avengers had spiraled for a time. Eventually, Sam Wilson had taken up the mantle. A few had followed, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, his protégé Kate Bishop as well as Yelena. You didn’t even know if they called themselves ‘The Avengers’ anymore, only that they acted like them. Seemed they were running off the left-overs of Stark’s money as well as government funding. You had heard rumors about Scott Lang or even Steven Strange still floating around. After Wanda Maximoff had gone near-insane, the world had turned a cruel eye on their heroes. Even if they had been the only ones to save them from The Blip. People - your people - they didn’t want to be classed as heroes anymore, but somehow they were still committed to ‘doing good’. 

“I could tell you off,” Yelena drawled, eyes following your every move. You were on your knees now, slowly rising from the lying position you had held. If Yelena was a predator, you were certainly her prey. Unfortunately for her, you were also a predator when cornered. Outside, you could hear gunshots overlapping each other, shouting and grunting. It hurt that it annoyed you, that Yelena would be inadvertently ruining your reputation. You always made the shot, always. Except this time. You supposed being held up by Yelena fucking Belova was a better excuse than missing your shot. No, now that would be embarrassing and reputation destroying. The Shadow missing a shot? Unheard of. 

“I want to offer you a job. Could be a one time thing, could be more. Pays better than whatever this is, and is certainly more legal than whatever this is.” Yelena continues her spiel. She had palmed a knife, waving it as she spoke for extra effect. It was a hunting knife, sharpened to perfection. You didn’t like to imagine how the serrated edge would feel cutting into your flesh. 

“Your jobs barely qualify as legal,” You snip back, carefully eyeing her movements. Was she signaling someone through the window? The glare of the sun against the blade would surely be visible outside. There could be an entire team outside waiting to take you down. Yelena could just be the distraction. Your hand tightens around the handle of your own knife, ready to pull it from its holster at the slightest indication of an ambush. 

“Everything is legal if you work for the right people,” Yelena cuts back, tilting her head as she observes you. Time was ticking, you knew this could go one of two ways. You really hoped it wouldn’t end with one of you bleeding out on the floor. You had respect for Yelena, for what she and Natasha had done. 

“What if I say no?” You ask, russian muffled through your mask. You always wore them on jobs, always. You were a faceless weapon, mixing your identity in would not help you shoot better. Yelena smirks at you, finger running down the blade of her knife. She looked so casual, leaning against the window sill without a care in the world. She was definitely better armed than you. Your ears strain, trying to hear if someone is climbing the stairs of the building. All you can hear is the scuffle of the deal downstairs in the alley. 

“The government is interested in you. They don’t have a name yet, just… a shadow of a person to look for. Ex-Widow, a hired gun. I can make it go away. I know powerful people.” You could see her teeth through her smirk as she spoke. It was a thinly veiled threat. Pull your shit together, you’ve drawn too much attention to yourself. No, this was the difference between you and Yelena. She had cared, she had become the hero she had needed. You had stayed the same monster, spiraled further into your own hatred and disgust. You had become the person people needed saving from. Yelena cared so much about every Widow that the idea of one slipping through the cracks? It would haunt her. She was warning you, giving you a way out. She wanted to help you. 

The shouting and gunshots outside had died down, now only the sound of several sirens approaching. Time was still ticking and you were running out.

“Make your choice quickly, Shadow. Make it wisely though, I really don’t want to kill you.” Yelena purred. You eyed her for a long moment, carefully getting to your feet. Despite her cold exterior, the way she tried to be intimidating… You could see the pleading in her eyes. She wanted you to come with her, she wanted to help you. But you couldn’t help but wonder if you deserved saving? 

So many years, so many dead bodies. The only thing that kept you going was your strength, your reluctance to die. But after so many years of running, so many years of being alone… was there a reason to keep fighting? That sickness, it clawed away in your brain. You didn’t deserve saving. 

The sirens drew nearer. Reluctantly, you spoke. Even if that sickness was strong, your stubbornness and desire to breathe was stronger. You would live out of spite. You would live just to spit in the faces of those who wanted you dead. If you were going to die, it would be on your own terms. 

“Who am I shooting?” You ask, reaching out your gloved hand for Yelena to shake. Yelena must feel some kind of relief, you see her shoulders droop every-so-slightly as she shakes your hand.

“That list seems to be endless these days.” She replies with a grin. 

—

The small rural town was desolate. A ghost town, Yelena had said. A ghost town that had become infested with vermin.

Remnants of society still remained. You could imagine the ghosts of people passing by as you navigated through the landscape. A cracked concrete road, overgrown with weeds. The apartment buildings with their windows smashed out, graffiti scrawled across crumbling stone. Billboards years out of date, forgotten band-posters peeling off walls and lampposts. You couldn’t say who once lived here - but whoever they were, they were most certainly gone or dead. 

You were positioned on the second-floor of a disintegrating school house. The building itself was several stories higher but you had taken one look at the unstable staircase and thought better of it. Ripped, stained curtains blew lightly in the wind, at the front of the room a cracked blackboard still had the date July 17th, 1994 scrawled across it. 

You were in your usual working gear. Your suit was tight and flexible for ease of movement, adorned with pads on the knees, elbows and shoulders. Your hands were clothed with fingerless gloves and most importantly you wore your mask. A belt holds a handgun, lower down some straps across your thighs hold knives and pockets for convenience. They were for if things got messy, your real weapon was tossed over your back - a duffle bag with your sniper rifle inside.  

Broken glass crunched under your combat boots as you cautiously approached the window. The building you had chosen was strategic. Across from you was an old office building, just as run down as the one you stood in. Unlike the school house, the old office housed a group of criminals. 

Sam Wilson had insisted that he didn’t want to kill them, that he just wanted to talk to them. He wanted to talk them down and tell them to surrender peacefully. If things turned messy, he would give you the signal and you would shoot. The two groups would be standing in the concrete courtyard between the two buildings. At the slightest chance of danger, the slightest chance they weren’t ready to surrender? You would pull the trigger and pop their leader's skull open. 

Sam Wilson and his crew hadn’t been happy to see you when Yelena had brought you to the aircraft for transport. He had taken one look at you, masked, all in black and imploded. 

“Yelena, who the hell is this?” Sam had snapped. Yelena had just laughed at him, motioning for you to sit and buckle in next to her on the aircraft. 

“You told me to get a sniper!” 

It seemed when Sam Wilson had asked for a sniper, he hadn’t asked for you. Ex-widow, criminal, The Shadow. When Yelena had introduced you with your alias, Kate Bishop had gaped at you. Bucky Barnes was tense, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t recognised your name. Clint Barton seemed neutral, you supposed he was used to dealing with deadly women. 

You found it ironic how upset Sam Wilson was. He had helped Steve Rogers save Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You supposed the difference was that Barnes had tried to change when he was freed. Despite the mind control, the torture… he wanted to do good. You were just damaged beyond repair. Sitting there, with those heroes? It made you feel sick. Playing dress up, that’s all it was. 

You had over 700 confirmed kills with your rifle, even more kills if you counted other weapons at your disposal. You were an assassin, a hitwoman, a fucking menace. Bucky Barnes would have more total kills than you, but he had stopped killing. He had felt remorse. You had kept killing, kept digging that hole because it was all you knew how to do. He had been a normal boy before the war. You were a killing machine, a girl robbed of a childhood. If you hadn’t been freed, would have even known about the childhood you had missed? You didn’t remember your mother, nor if you had any siblings. All you had known was cruelty. 

Brushing some of the broken glass away with your foot, you began setting up your rifle. Through the ear-piece you could hear the chatter of the rest of the team as they headed to their spot. You had gone ahead to set up, they were about 20 minutes away from the school house. Gun at the ready, you lay down on your stomach, eye to the scope. 

“In position, over.” You mutter into the ear piece. 

“Copy that, over.” Sam Wilson replied quickly.

You settled into your spot, watching the building ahead. You were a good sniper not only because of your ability to disconnect, but also because of your levels of patience. You had spent days in this exact position, waiting, sweating for your chance at a target. 

By the time the others were in position, you had counted every window in the building across from you. 25 per story, making it 125 all together for all 5 stories. There was movement on the bottom floor and the second. You assumed they didn’t go any higher due to the same reason as you - a crumbling staircase. Each window had blue curtains - different to the beige ones in your room. Nearly all the windows were smashed, except for on the top story that seemed to remain relatively untouched. 

Through the ear-piece you could hear what Sam was saying. Both groups stood in the center of the courtyard, hands on their undrawn weapons. The new generation of Avengers were outnumbered 5 to 1. The tenison was clear, even as Sam tried joking around with the opposing leader. Everything was going smoothly, exactly as planned. That was, until you saw a glint in one of the third story windows. 

You thought you imagined it at first - a trick of the eye. But then you saw it again, and then a third time. There was another sniper, trained directly on Sam Wilson. You didn’t feel stressed by this, it was just another complication in a high-tension mission. It made sense, you had anticipated that maybe your targets would be smart enough to bring a sniper to this ‘talk’. The other sniper was up slightly higher than you - you wouldn’t be able to get a good hit on him unless you went up another couple stories. 

“There’s a sniper, third story. Sixth window to the left.” You breathed into the comms, fully knowing the rest of the team wouldn’t be able to verbally respond. If the opposing side got any indication that you were up there? Game over. They would signal their sniper to take the shot on Sam. It would take hours to pick bits of his skull out of their clothes and hair. 

“I need to change positions to get a better look, keep him talking.” You continue. Slowly, you roll away from the window and drag your gun with you. You needed to keep to the shadows, become a shadow literally. If the sniper spotted you it would be over. 

With a quiet grunt, you pull the gun from the room. Pressing your back against the hallway wall, you quickly rise to your feet and head towards the staircase with a huff. Sam was still rambling on about peaceful surrender over the comms ear-piece, stalling until you could get a better look at the sniper. 

The stairs wobbled and shook as you moved up them quickly and quietly as possible. You could hear chunks of wood and stone crumbling from beneath and falling with each step you took. Opting for the 4th story, you quickly set up in position by a new window. Same torn, beige curtains and shattered glass across the floor.

From this position you had a better look into the third story windows. Looking down, you could see the outline of a body laid flat with the rifle, much like your own position. Due to the broken windows and ripped curtains, you had a fairly clear shot at the figures head as they trained all their focus on what was happening below. 

“I’m going to shoot the sniper first, he has a shot on you Wilson. I’ll still have a clear shot on the target, just might take a moment.” You explain. They don’t reply, as expected. The situation below seems to be growing tense, you can hear the tone of the target's voice growing more aggressive by the second. Lining up your shot on the sniper, you hold your breath. Sam says the signal word. 

You pull the trigger. 

As the shot rings out, the men below scatter. You can hear the rest of the team screaming at you through your ear-piece. It all gets jumbled up, just white noise in your brain as you line up your next shot. This was why you usually worked alone. You didn’t crack under pressure in a situation like this, but having screaming ringing in your ear was bringing you damn near to it. You can’t be bothered listening to what they are yelling about. You didn’t need them telling you that your target was seconds away from escaping your bullet. Didn’t they know you never missed? 

The target was a few feet away from the safety of the building. Chunks of flesh, skull and brains explode across the cracked concrete as you pull the trigger once more. Through the scope, you watch the body slump to the ground, a pool of blood quickly spreading around the corpse. 

“Holy shit!” You hear Kate yell through the ear-piece. You don’t know if she’s complementing your shot or reacting to the spray of blood up the side of the opposite building. The last of the men who scattered stepped over the body, disappearing into the office building. 

“There's another headed for the sniper rifle, Shadow!” Yelena shouts at you through comms. Her and Clint have breached the office, you can see the shape of them fighting through the broken windows. 

“Got it,” You mutter back. You cast a glance at where Sam and Bucky were fighting out in the open. Bucky seems swarmed, trying to shake a man who has wrapped his arms around his throat. You make a silent note of it, casting your scope back to the third story window. The figure that rushes to replace the dead man is quickly taken out by your rifle. He doesn't even get a chance to touch the rifle before his blood paints the wall behind him. 

No one else makes a dash for the sniper rifle. You turn your gaze back to the courtyard, noticing that Bucky is still swarmed by several men. Sam has been pulled too far away from him to help. You can’t see Kate anymore, but from the yelling coming through the comms she is inside the office with Clint and Yelena. 

One of the opposers has picked up a hand-gun and is pointing it squarely at Bucky’s chest as he struggles to get out of the grip of the other men holding him down. Sam barrels towards them, but you know he won’t make it in time. You huff out a sigh, lining up the dangerous shot. You knew if this bullet was at the slight wrong angle it could ricochet directly into Bucky’s chest. 

Is this why Yelena hired you? Because you would make dangerous shots without permission, without regard for human life? Bucky was a super soldier, he could probably survive several gunshot wounds (provided they weren’t directly to the head). Maybe if you cared you would’ve been nervous. Maybe you would’ve hesitated, let your hands shake and sweat. But you don’t care. You disconnect from everything, the shouting through the comms, the sounds of gunshots, the feeling of metal against your skin. You’re not in your body, you are floating above yourself watching the auto-pilot take over. 

You squeeze the trigger. The hand-gun clatters to the ground alongside the attacker. Blood is slick against the paved stones. Through your scope, you swear it has splattered across Bucky’s gruff face. The men attacking Bucky stutter for a moment, giving him the opportunity to shake them off and pummel them with his metal fist. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge what you did.

He doesn’t even say thank you. 

—

One job turned into two. Then two turned into a few more. 

Six months you had been working with Yelena and her crew of disgraced Avengers. You weren't their friends. You didn’t celebrate after missions with them. You kept to yourself, cold and distant. They didn’t know your real name, they hadn’t even seen your face. Yelena would give you a call, pick you up, you would complete the mission, then you would return home. 

You were The Shadow. 

You weren’t a hero. 

Kate and Yelena tried to crack your shell. It usually involved joking and parading around you. All it would earn them was a roll of the eyes and a quiet sigh. Over the comms though, sometimes you would make quiet digs and quips. Clint would roar with laughter, Sam just muttering that he was surprised you had a personality under that mask. 

The mask. Oh, they hated it. 

They were all determined to see beneath it. They made up jokes, stories as to why you wore it. That you were hideously ugly, or scarred beyond human recognition. Bucky seemed to be the only one who understood. He was the only one who was equally as cold to you as you were to him. Your exchanges were brief, usually a series of single words and grunts. It was a relief having someone not trying for your affection at all times. 

Once again, you and your deadly skills were needed for a mission. Another one of Sam’s ‘discussions’ which usually ended with brains splattered across the floor. This time you were in a lightly forested clearing, somewhere in the Estonian wilderness. You were set up in the tree line, laying in a mixture of mud and dead leaves. 

The countryside was peaceful, but gray. Winter was setting in, leaves falling from the birch trees. Their pale trunks were pale against the gray sky that threatened to spill. The breeze was cool, not as cold as Russia had been. No, a Russian winter could be deadly especially the further north you got. You remembered the snow, the discomfort of the cold leaking into your bones. You hadn’t been allowed to complain then, only soldier on. 

“You in position, Shadow?” Yelena asked through the comms. You could see her lips moving through the scope as the group headed towards the designated meeting point. 

“Affirmative. Over.” You state, pushing the ear-piece in a bit further as you settle closer to the cold earth. Relaxing your shoulders with a sharp breath, you surveyed the area through your scope. 

A small group of men had come to meet the team. There were less men than you had anticipated, if a fight ensued it would be one on one. You didn’t like the opponents odds, they looked scruffy, only armed with low-caliber weapons. Definitely not the type to take on a group of superheroes and super soldiers. 

You felt dread sink into your stomach. Something… felt wrong here. Your target reportedly had tons of men at his disposal. It was deep into the Italian mafia, and if they had anything, it was an abundance of men. Where were they all? Was this an ambush? Were they hidden in the brush like you? You could take down a few targets, but you would be more successful with your knives and fists against a small army. Your mind races, along with your gaze as you try to piece it all together. 

“There is something wrong.” You speak into the comms, eyes flickering between Sam and the target as they stood in front of each other. You had done plenty of jobs with the group, all had gone smoothly. But something… something was terribly off here. You could feel it in your gut. The targets men looked antsy, shifting in place. They knew something. They were anticipating something. 

“There’s not enough men. I can’t spot them anywhere in the treelines. Either he’s stupid or this is a set-up.” You ramble into the ear-piece. They can’t respond to you, but you can tell they’re paying attention to your warning. Yelena’s eyes sweep the area, trying to spot more men hidden away somewhere. 

Then, from behind you, you hear the snap of a twig. You spin around, hand flying to your knife. Across from you stand a group of men, armed with shotguns. They’re close, closer than you had realized. You had been too busy trying to figure out where all the men were, trying to anticipate the ambush. You hadn’t realized their ambush was against you. 

This was why you didn’t make friends. Connections. You were too busy worrying about them to realize the immediate danger you were in. The butt of a shotgun cracks against the side of your head. 

Everything goes black. 

—

The mud was cold underneath you, biting into your skin. Your hands were tied, and throughout the intermittent black-outs you recalled being dragged through the dead leaves. You must have been stripped of your weapons, you couldn’t feel the metal of your knives and gun digging in anymore. 

You were bleeding from a head wound, and you were definitely suffering from some kind of concussion. You had touched that throbbing spot with your fingers, rubbing the slick feeling of blood between them. Even through the fabric of your mask, you could feel the sticky blood had spread down the side of your face and neck. A gun was pressed to the back of your skull.

How many men had there been? Had you had a chance to count before you were struck? Had you managed to warn the others before the ear-piece was shattered by the strike? You could still feel bits of plastic and metal digging into your ear along with a high-pitched ringing. You weren’t sure if the ringing was from the ear-piece or from the hit you had received. 

“You really thought I would stand in the open like this? Like a fool?” Your target joked, his Italian accent thick as he laughed heartily. You were kneeling next to him, eyes warily looking between him and the rest of your group who stood across from you. Sam and Bucky looked less than pleased, lips pressed together in tight lines. 

“Rumors have been all through the underground, The Avengers somehow managed to recruit The Shadow?” He continues, still laughing. “Only an idiot would put himself in the open. Taking a chance with The Shadow is asking to have your skull blown open. I am no fool, but maybe you are? Thinking that I would fall for your trick?” 

You can see Yelena trying to keep her cold face on, the one she had given you when she recruited you. It may have fooled the opposition, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She surveyed the mountain of men behind you like she was looking at her next meal. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against the back of your skull.

“We didn’t come here to kill you, we came here to negotiate your peaceful surrender.” Sam spoke up, voice gruff and cold. Behind him, you watched Clint’s fingers ghost over the string of his bow.

“Surrender? Why do you bring a sniper to a peaceful negotiation?” The Italian purred, motioning at you with one hand. His fingers were lined with gold rings, they caught the sunlight through the clouds. He had a gun tucked into his belt, a knife holstered on his hip. 

“You know why. Things get messy. Now, we can still negotiate. You let her go and you hand over your weapons. You will be arrested unharmed, along with all of your men. You’ll face a fair trial for your crimes, a chance at a fresh start.” Sam explained. You could practically hear the target losing interest during Sam’s spiel. You watched him fidget impatiently with those golden rings, the way his men shifted uncomfortably behind you. 

“No no.” Your target chuckled, running his fingers over his bushy black mustache. With the swish of his hand, he dismissed the man holding the gun to your head. His hands then found the back of your neck, tugging you to your feet. Fingers under your chin, he forces you to look into his eyes. “Why would I let her go? I didn’t come here to play games with you, Wilson. I came here because I wanted her. Because I knew she would be here.” 

You resisted a flinch as his fingers dug into the skin of your neck, slipping it under the fabric of your mask. With one tug, he pulled the fabric from your face. This had not been the way you had expected this to happen, the way you would reveal your face to the team. You didn’t want them to feel some kind of connection to you, or any kind of guilt if this ended with a bullet in your skull. 

If you had been able to look, you would’ve seen their shocked faces. How they quickly turned to rage on your behalf. You would’ve seen how Bucky’s eyes darted between looking at you and the ground, like he was witnessing something forbidden. 

You imagined you were a sight, blood smeared across your skin from the head wound. Your hair had been perfectly woven into a crown braid, just like how they taught you in the Red Room. It would be lopsided now, chunks pulled out of place and flyaways from being roughly tugged across the ground. That and the layers of mud caked into your clothing. 

“You know, Dreykov would sometimes leant out Widows to important men like me. You were all so beautiful and you all did exactly what you were told. Made to deliver pleasure. So many men, they would ask for you. To get a glimpse at the mysterious Shadow of the Red Room. Dreykov would never let us have you… 

We would wonder if it was because you were hideously ugly? If you had been scarred like his dear Antonia? But looking at you now, you are as beautiful as I imagined. I can’t help but wonder if Dreykov wanted to keep you for himself? He always said you had too much bite for your worth.”

Gaze still cast at the Italian, you don’t see the team's reaction to this. You wouldn't have seen  Yelena's composure slip, how Sam clenched his fist in rage. Instead you stared, silent fury boiling beneath your skin. 

“I wonder how it will feel to break you?” The target hissed. He watched as your blank expression slowly turned into a sneer. Without much thought, you spit a mixture of saliva and blood into his face with a ragged laugh. 

His face contorted in rage, reaching for the gun in his belt. You don’t dodge, willingly letting him strike you across the face with the metal. You stumble backwards, falling to your knees in the mud. Your lip is definitely split, blood dripping to the ground below you. You’re still laughing though, much to the collective horror of everyone. Sam opens his mouth to speak, to demand your release but you cut him off. 

“You men, you are so emotional. You’re so busy pulling out your cock to piss all over everything that you don’t see the small details.” You seeth at the target. He stares at you in shock, completely oblivious to what you have done. What you are about to do. His men, even your group don’t anticipate what is to come next. 

“What are the smaller details?” The target asks, you can sense misguided amusement in his tone.

You don’t reply. He doesn’t have a chance against you. You had already slipped out of your binds. He was so caught up trying to strike you, trying to prove himself a big and scary man, he hadn’t felt it. Your nimble fingers had wrapped around the knife on his hip, he hadn’t noticed how you had ripped it from its holster as you fell backwards. 

The Italian doesn’t get a chance to take another breath before you snap forwards, striking like a snake. You dig the blade into his thigh, purposefully nicking his artery. Blood gushes from the wound the moment you pull the blade back out.  

Things seem to move in slow motion - you see him react - eyes opening in horror and shock as he stumbles back. You are still on your knees, a feral smirk across your face. His gun lifts, intending to shoot but he is too late. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you pull the gun to the side just as he pulls the trigger. 

The bang deafens you for a moment, ears ringing. The bullet grazes your ear, then lands directly into the stomach of one of his men behind you. The man wails, falling backwards, knocking a few more of the men off their feet in the process. You move quickly, using your body weight to twist the target's arms, flipping him onto his side into the mud. 

The gun falls to the earth with a thud. Your target doesn’t even get a glance at it before you’ve kicked it away in Sam’s direction. The Italian man groans on his back as he bleeds out. You get to your feet, ignoring the panicked shouts from his men beside you as you observe him. 

“You’re bleeding out from your femoral artery.” You explain to him roughly, tilting your head. His hair is thick, black and greasy. A sheen of sweat has come over his pale skin, eyes glazed over. 

“On average it takes two to five minutes to bleed to death from that artery. That’s if you don’t fall unconscious first. Let’s count, shall we? You spent…around thirty seconds swinging that gun around…another thirty listening to me talk…” You drawl. 

Stepping closer, you crouch next to his shivering body. He is trying to stop the bleeding, pressing shaking hands to the open wound. Blood has already begun to pool around him, ruby red and slick. You tut, pushing his hands away with the knife to watch the blood spurt out faster. 

“You have, what? A couple minutes left? Now tell me, before you slip away… When you see God, what will you tell him?” You ask, a feral expression still across your face as you watch his skin grow gray. 

“You fucking bitch!” Your target manages to choke out. You laugh, standing and swinging the knife around. 

“Oho, I don’t think he’ll like that.” You say. An almost animalistic growl leaves your throat as you raise your foot, kicking him squarely in the nose with your boot. He cries out, bone crunching. For a moment you stand there, watching the sniveling man. 

With a sniff, you run your hand roughly over your cheek, wiping some of the blood from your skin. Then, your gaze falls on the group of men left. They are watching you in silent horror. You can’t imagine what you look like, covered in blood and mud, armed with only a hunting knife. You assess them with a predator's gaze, menacing and bloodthirsty and the men cower back despite being armed with guns. 

“We don’t want any trouble.” One stutters out. 

For a moment, you forget the rest of your team are feet away. You consider letting the wrath consume you. You could tear these men apart with your hands, teeth and nails. You imagine plucking out their eyes, teaching them what happens to men who see your face. 

“Shadow.” Yelena calls you. Your eyes snap to hers. 

Pulled from your trance, you run a tongue over your split lip. The act is near animalistic, a cat tending its wounds. Then, with a shrug sent in Sam’s direction you stalk over to Yelena. Sam, to his credit, quickly composes himself and instructs the group of men to drop their weapons and line up. 

“Are you alright?” Yelena asks as you pause in front of her. You don’t feel like answering that question right now. 

If it weren’t for the cold wrath that had taken over your body, you would imagine you would be shaking. Men like that made your skin crawl, made you revert back to how you had felt in the Red Room. It made you sick to your stomach, knowing that despite everything men like that still existed. You would kill one man and another would grow in his place. You had been lucky to escape. That no matter what, there would always be more places like the Red Room. Even if they weren’t to breed killers and spies, they would still use the bodies of women. Powerful men would use their authority to control innocent girls for the rest of time. Those girls couldn't all be saved. They wouldn’t be saved. 

“I need to retrieve my gun.” You reply thickly, nodding your head in the direction of the treeline. Your knives and other gear would have also been abandoned nearby, that’s if the men hadn’t pocketed it for themselves. 

“Go ahead.” Yelena says, thankfully not pressing you on your emotional state. She seems to sense your unease and your unwillingness to hang around. You pass by her and a gaping Kate. You needed to clear your head before you faced the rest of them. With the mask, you could hide your emotions. Now, without it, you felt exposed. You wouldn’t let them see you crack. They would have been trained to sense the slightest change in your facial expressions, to be able to interpret exactly how you were feeling. 

“Shadow?” Yelena calls, you glance over your shoulder reluctantly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Nice to finally see you. The real you.” She says, a subtle grin tugging at her lips. 

All you can do is hum in response. Though, as you trudge towards the tree line, a small smile forms over your bloodied face. 

PART TWO

[ewsean]

As an active validation seeker, I wanted to post my current WIP for an upcoming Ghostbusters cross Spiderman fic? I've never once written Fanfic before (at least that I can remember?) and I wanted to take it to Tumblr to get the general community opinion. Fic Intro / Snippet Below !! (Is this something you'd be interested in reading? Feel free to ask question about it too ?? I'm just here to share my shit really LOL)

Raymond Stantz was your normal New York student. No really, he was! He attended Columbia University, went out on the weekends with his friends, worked an honest part-timer down at a Comic Book Store about a subway’s stop away from his dorm. He was all completely normal- normal bar one thing.

He was New York’s one and only Spiderman.

And while you’ve probably heard that a lot before, Ray Stantz really was New York’s one and only Spiderman, and had been since he was 15 when an unfortunate incident had happened during an after-school science experiment that had gone wrong. He’d told himself to never feed untested food to insects without studying the ingredients, but curiosity got the best of him, and the rest was history.

It was less than ideal, really. It wasn’t like he had chosen this life. It was almost like destiny, or fate, as his close friend Peter would tell him. That was another thing that was less than ideal- Peter’s involvement. Ray had sworn to himself to never tell anyone, not even his parents, out of fear they thought he was absolutely nuts, or worse, got affected by his status as a ‘Hero’. Friends had been hard to keep throughout his High School life, despite his outgoing and bubbly personality. College wasn’t any different, until he hit the jackpot with one Peter Venkman. Peter would claim Ray attached himself to him, but truth be told, it was the other way around.  They found themselves as roommates in the first year and grew closer as friends the longer they spent together. It was hard to keep his secret identity hidden from his incredibly nosy friend, and it was only a matter of time before Peter found him out. All he could do was pray it wasn’t anytime soon. It was probably because Ray didn’t believe in any higher power that his prayers did not get answered, and three months into their friendship the bomb was dropped.

“Didn’t take you as a midnight bachelor, Stantzie.” Came Peter’s smooth and sleazy voice in the dark. Ray froze in his spot, one foot halfway through the window of their bathroom. It may be dark, but Ray swears he can see the mischievous twinkle in Pete’s eyes as his shit-eating grin expands, “Nice costume. Wanna tell me where you’ve been?”

Part of Ray thoroughly believes that if he stands still long enough holding his breath, Peter will get bored of waiting for an answer and fall back into his bed to sleep the night away. There’s no luck in this though, as his best friend’s voice carries through the air, accusatory, “Stop holding your breath, idiot. I can see you. I’m not mad.”

That was a good thing, at least? Ray was clutching at positives here, because in this very moment, all he could see was negative scenario after negative scenario. He always had had a problem with acting impulsively and dreading to deal with the consequences of his actions afterwards. “Stantz.” It’s met with silence. “Ray. Raymond, hello? Come on, you’re going to fall over.”

Well, if Peter wasn’t going to let this slide, he might as well let his body fall with the sweet release of gravity, finally pulling his other leg inside the building from the window and collapsing onto the floor in a large heap, softly groaning out at the abrupt hit of the ground.

“You’re a moron, you know that, right?” “Yeah .. You tell me every few days, Pete. I can’t forget.” Ray responds, though his words are muffled and it causes Peter to strain his hearing, finally getting up from his bed to pad into the bathroom where his friend laid, defeated. 

For a moment, they sat on the bathroom floor together, each contemplating what to say next. There were a lot of words that needed to be exchanged, but neither man could quite figure out how to get them out. For once in his life, Peter Venkman was stunned into silence. Ray would not be the first to speak first, subconsciously zip-locking his lips and throwing the key away into some dark cavern of his brain. The burden fell to Peter to speak once more.

And speak he did.

“So … I gotta’ find a new favourite Hero now that I found out mine was you after all this time.” 

Why was he like this .. ?

“Spiderman’s your favourite?” Ray asks, hopeful, chin tilting upwards just enough to peer out from the crook in his arms that he’d buried his head previously into to avoid Peter’s expectant look. 

“Was. Remember, I just said I needed to find a new one.” Ray knows Peter’s only joking, because he says it with that light tone of his and his eyebrows soften, a look Peter reserves for Ray and a handful of other people. With a study pat on his shoulder, Peter is up and hauling Ray to his feet, “Alrighty, pal. Let’s get you to bed. Seems like it’s been a rough night.” Ray can only snort. If Pete had any idea what he’d gone through. 

“Yeah. Thanks Pete, we’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

But they never did. Not like Peter hadn’t tried; In fact, it had become almost a daily occurrence. Ray couldn’t leave the dorm room without being asked where he was going, who he was seeing, or what trouble New York City had found itself in. Even waking up for class early, or to go study with a few of his classmates, Peter was hot on his tail, ready to catch any action that arose. The action never arose, though, at least not in Peter’s vicinity. And at least, not for a good three weeks.

[insaneintheemembraneowo]

it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

**please read!**

hi there, this is my first time publishing a long fanfic on tumblr. updates will be a lot slower here as i like to post longer chapters on tumblr (at least 1-5 chapters need to be written before posting to tumblr) just as a personal preference. that means updates will take a lot longer here than other platforms so please follow me on wattpad or ao3 if you'd like to support me more or read this book faster. find me at @ insaneintheemembrane thanks!

in which a burnt-out detective/vigilante meets the ninjas.

a trans-fem!reader with spiderman? powers x ninjago boys & girls.

slow updates

i will make a male and gender netural version of this book if its wanted! please check out my profile for other books,

posted books; > into the fog (fem!reader x dbd) - only ao3 and wattpad atm > its not paranoia if theyr're really out to get you (fem!reader x ninjago) - all platforms

upcoming books; > teen by day, wicca by night (fem!reader x twilight) > fight for me (sodapop curtis x fem!reader x steve randle)

chapter 1 & 2

A/N: the timeline is fucked and I've added my own parts to spice up the plot so it isn't similar to other fanfics. i do attempt to stick somewhat to the order of things though. please excuse the spacing, this was copied to multiple sites from notion.

warnings: mentions of blood & violence, swearing words: 1906

chapter 1

i didn't know where i was going or why i even the station, i just needed to get out, needed to do something, anything else. nothing made sense, my thoughts were irrational and i wasn't stable enough for this case. i needed to hand it to someone else, but i couldn't, people were counting on me to solve it.

i'm amazing at cases, this is what ive always wanted to do, what i've dreamed of, so why couldn't i? when it mattered and when it counted why couldn't i solve a singular case? what was wrong with me, why was my brain acting like this? god, it felt like my brain was running at 100 miles per hour.

i kept walking, turning different ways when i felt like it. eventually i came to a tea store. outside was a huge poster for fresh tea and pastries on a discounted price for the winter.

'yes' i thought, 'exactly what i need.'

i walked into the store and was immediately greeted by the smell of an intrusive citrus tea. it flooded my senses and slowed my brain down almost instantly.

"hello dear, something i can help you with?" a calming voice asked.

i spun around to see an older lady, she had grey hair and kind green eyes. she was wearing a light coat of well applied makeup and was smiling at me while holding a cup of tea (which seemed to be the culprit of my relaxation.)

"i, uh, i saw the uhm." i tried to explain using my finger to point toward the window, but my eyes were very obviously glued to the cup of magic the woman was holding.

she followed my gaze and lightly chuckled. "you like the smell of this tea? its ours new brand of organic lemon balm tea, otherwise know as melissa. It increases GABA activity, meaning it's a fantastic choice for calming you down andddd getting to sleep at night!" "sounds just like what i need."

i look from the cup to the shelves, they are covered in hundreds of boxes of tea, ranging from all different colours and types. on the shelves behind the counter sit at least 200 different teapots.

"well lucky for you we have an offer on this type of tea, as its new. 2 boxes for £15. although you do need a good teapot to brew this kind of tea to a high standard. so for an extra £15 ill through in a teapot as well." she responded, putting down her teacup, grabbing two boxes of the tea from the shelves and walking behind the counter to select a teapot.

this woman moved fast, i hadn't even said i wanted it yet.

"right okay, £30 sure." i nodded approaching the counter.

as the woman turned back around she knocked the shelf causing one level to fall. without thinking id hopped over the counter and caught the shelf before it could cause any real damage.

fuck!

"oh woah, those are some… fast reflexes. and your quite strong too. hm" the woman said stepping back putting the teapot she had selected for me on the counter. she then turned round and looked me up and down.

i propped the shelf back up and sighed nervously.

"aha, yeah well, i am a detective so quick reflexes and all."

"sure sure, whatever you say, just seemed a little… unnatural is all." she responded with a smile.

i walked back round the counter, pulling my purse out of my oversized winter jacket. it was like this woman could see right through me. read me like a book - as cringey as that sounds. i pulled out three 10s and handed them too her. she bagged up my things and handed then to me.

"have a nice evening and come again!"

"thank you."

i spun around making a b-line for the door, 'freedom!' i thought, right before the door opened in front of me and i crashed into the stranger that had walked through.

"woah! sorry about that, wasn't expecting you to come through." i said apologetically, regaining balance.

i looked at the guy in front of me, he was solid and hadn't even wobbled when i bumped into him. he had fiery brown hair, gelled up into stupid spikes. he had beautiful light brown eyes, but they were currently looking cold and sharp right at me.

"watch where you're going next time." he half-shouted.

i scoffed, looking at him in disbelief. i was being kind and apologising! what was this assholes problem?

"kai! don't be rude to customers." the woman that had served me said from behind.he rolled his eyes walking off to the back grumbling about something. the woman started to say something but id already walked out, fuming.

like my shitty day could get any worse, not only am i in a slump at work, i nearly exposed my powers to the tea lady AND that guy was unnecessarily rude.

i angrily walked back to the station and set my tea down in the locker room. i ignored everyone's confused looks and sat back at my desk, head in hands.

chapter 2

blood dripped down my face and onto my vigilante suit, not like i wasn't already covered in snake juices and blood but it was still an inconvenience. i had been on my way home from work when i heard cries down an alleyway. a group of snakes had stolen a baby. very original.

i dipped into the alley, stashed my bag and tea in an old bin and changed into my suit, before saving the baby. i fought of the serpentine and found the mother a few streets down crying out for her lost child. a few of the slimy bastards got away so i tracked them through the city, to the sewers. it was some kind of hive for all the serpentine clans too meet. how freaky.

that's when i saw them, the ninja. the most irritating men you will ever come across.

4 arrogant, cocky, colourful men in pyjamas. they call themselves ninjas but fail to do the simplest of tasks, not to mention they are always in my way. they believe in no killing unless absolutely necessary, i believe some people just aren't worth keeping around and that not every life is worth saving.

it's fair to say we don't see eye to eye.

they were all here, trying to fight off the serpentine horde and (to my misery) winning. this place must be important because they were all here blue, red, black and… pink? since when was there a pink ninja? what happened to the white one?

i saw the one in black get knocked down and decided to be his knight in shining armour. i pulled down my hood and used my webs to swing myself into the fight. i grabbed the snake on top of the black ninja with my webs and flung him into a wall. the ninja on the ground looked up at me and nodded, swiftly getting off of the ground, rushing back into the fight.

i rolled my eyes, although he couldn't see that. we continued fighting until the serpentine were dead, tied up or knocked out. i'd been scratched a few times but nothing serious. most of the blood on me wasn't mine, not that you could tell whose blood is what anyway, a certain breed of these filthy things exploded into blue goo when it died. extremely gross. there were only a few stragglers left, but i thought that the Pyjama Men could handle them on their own - they were big, scary ninjas after all. i turned on my heel, prepared to leave, when i heard a scream behind me. i looked over my shoulder to see the pink (white?) ninja being lifted up by his neck. the thing lifting him was grotesque; it was like a hybrid snake. it was bigger, stronger, and covered in markings, and metal.

the remaining ninjas rushed to aid their friend, while i took care of the less powerful serpentine who were trying to assist the hybrid. dealing with the remaining serpentine was easy, and i dispatched them quickly while the others did their best to help their icy companion.

the poor guy was choking and struggling as his teammates desperately tried to get the thing off of him, attacking them with everything they had. their golden weapons, powers and strength didn't work so i helped out and tried my best to strike the hybrid with my weapon. nothing worked and the thing just shrugged us off or threw us back. i eventually got fed up and webbed the guy's hands up, he dropped the icy ninja to try and get the webs off. the fire ninja grabbed the ice ninja and we all ran out of there while we still could. there was no point fighting something so strong, especially since we were very under-prepared. plus i could sense that the ninja still weren't my biggest fans even after i just saved them.

we ran out of the sewers and hid in an alleyway. i lifted the bottom part of my mask, revealing my mouth and gasped for air. it stunk in the sewer and i appreciated the fresh air. part of my hair fell out of the mask along with it.

"are you a girl?!" exclaimed the blue lightning ninja.

"i thought that was obvious?" i responded, looking his way.

"not to me."

"it was obvious, you're just a dumbass jay." the earth ninja said rolling his eyes while checking on his injured friend.

"your name is jay?" i asked.

"oh for fucks sake cole!" the red one exclaimed.

"and yours is cole?"

"shut up you two!" the injured white one shouted, his voice sounding croaky and sore. "she knows too much about our identities now, we will have to take her to master wuu."

"yeah good idea. besides, we still need to discuss whatever that monster was." the red one replied nodding, a hint of disgust in his voice toward the end.

"im not going anywhere with you lot." i started backing up, they came toward me and i turned around and bolted.

[hogwartsandhawkins]

Prove Me Wrong

Prologue: We're Not Friends

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Masterlist

Ok here it is! The prologue for my nine (maybe longer) part fic for Billy Hargrove. I haven't written anything for a very long time, and I've never written an imagine or fic before so be mindful and go easy on me! But hopefully, it's well-liked despite the trash writing.

Also, I gave her a name, considering I'll be writing the same character for 9 parts, I feel like not giving her a name wouldn't feel right.

Summary: Max convinces you to watch over Billy.

Word Count: 1992

Warnings: Mentions of blood. Lots of swearing. I mean it's Billy Hargrove. Let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: Please, do not steal my work. This prologue and all the following chapters of this story are my original work, and I have worked very hard on each part I post. Reposts are always appreciated but copying and pasting any of these and posting them as your own is not, including translations without my permission.

The characters from the Netflix series are not my own, excluding the OC, and belong to Netflix and the Duffer Brothers.

Jess Logan sat at the edge of the Byers’ couch, anxiously staring at the floor, or rather, the person laying on the floor unconscious. Blood slowly found its way from the boy’s nose to the wooden floor. Jess was unsure whether to stay seated or to hurry and wipe the blood away, ensuring Joyce would not have to deal with a stain later. She began to rise, but then the sound of leather rubbing against the floor disrupted her and forced her back down. A feeble attempt to stand up from the boy was met with a groan. 

“What … the fuck?”

Billy Hargrove held his head between both hands and began to look over his setting. He wasn’t at a party. The house was much too empty for that. He also could hold his liquor, so this couldn’t be a hangover after blacking out. Did he get knocked out? Lose a fight? Hell no. He was Billy fucking Hargr- wait. It started to come back to him. Max. Where was she? Panic began to kick in as he realized where he was and why. He started to look around much more frantically, making his head spin and his eyes water. 

Jess did nothing except hold her breath and sit completely still, hoping that maybe, Billy would miss her entirely. It was only when Billy propped himself on his elbows did he notice the girl staring right at him. She looked as if she has just seen a ghost, and that if she were to move, a bomb might set off, disintegrating the entire house. Embarrassment began to set in, which quickly turned into anger as he realized she has been here the whole time, witnessing him like this. He was about ready to unleash this anger on her for continuing to stare wordlessly when he suddenly hears Max’s voice in his head. SAY YOU UNDERSTAND. He winces at this, remembering the numbness traveling through his body and the sound of cracking wood. 

Jess notices this reaction as well but chalks it up to be pain. If this monster even feels pain. Jess too has a flashback from earlier this night, but it included what happened before Billy’s memory. It included how Billy wouldn’t stop, even after Steve didn’t, couldn’t, fight back. It included Billy’s pin-pointed yet blank eyes, hyper-focused on her best friend’s pain-stricken face as he continued to wail down on the helpless boy, wearing what Jess remembers as a smile on Billy’s face, as if he was enjoying the show he put on only for himself.  

He shifts his wince to a sweet, charming smile, quite different than the one Jess remembers earlier, scrunching his nose ever so slightly, and begins to devour every inch of this girl with his eyes. He quickly recognizes her as the co-captain of the cheer team, Jessica Logan. He then slowly drops his grin, morphing it into a smirk as he continued to eye her, hoping to have some effect on her, waiting for her to relax her features at least slightly. She doesn’t move. He again flashed her his winning smile, and threw in a head nod, hoping to get her to budge, but what little effect his silent advances would normally have on Jess were further dulled by the blood-caked teeth, bloodied nose, and split-opened knuckles, which further reminded her of why she couldn’t wait to be out of his presence and made her even stiffer, if possible. When it became obvious the girl across from him had no intention of breathing, let alone talking, he sighed and decided to break the silence, dropping his smile once more. 

“Sorry, dollface, but cou- “

“Don’t call me that.”

So she speaks. “What?” 

“Dollface. Don’t call me that.”

“Okayy... so what do I call you then?” His question dripped with honey as he attempted to shift himself closer to where she was sitting.  He watched her intently, shifting the inside of his cheek between his teeth as he did so. He watched as she squirmed, trying to think of how to answer him, and he enjoyed the effect he had on her, the effect he thought he had on her. 

“Jocelyn.” 

“Isn’t your name Jess?” 

Shit “Well yeah.. but it’s my middle name.” She beat herself up for one, thinking about the ridiculous idea to try and lie about her name, and two, for continuing the ridiculous lie after she’d been caught, but she prayed that this would be their final confrontation, and she’d graduate, or even better, he’d drop out sooner than she graduates, and they’ll never have to see each other again… 

“… Right. So, uh, Jess Jocelyn,” Billy continued to eye her until turning his attention to the now empty kitchen, the last place he remembered Max being. Still propped on his elbow, he continued, “would you be able to tell me where Max is?” 

“Uh, your sister? Well she’s-“ 

“Don’t call her that.” 

“So what do I call her then?” She mimicked the way he previously asked this question, leaning in as if she was interested. She hated the way Billy treated his stepsister. At least, hated the fear in Max’s eyes when she talked about him. Jess never saw anything behind the scenes, but she didn’t have to. She could recognize that kind of fear from anywhere.  

Billy genuinely beamed this time, finding her mocking tone amusing, even if it was a jab at him. “Just call her Max.” 

“Right, well,” Jess began to falter. She couldn’t exactly tell him where she was, let alone why she was there, “Max. She’s gone.” 

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” The anger crept in again, and when he reached for his keys, he had no intention of keeping it in any longer. “Where. the FUCK. are my KEYS.” He was no longer looking into the empty kitchen, but straight back at her. He was no longer smiling. Instead, he attempted to sit straighter than he was previous and sent an icy cold stare at Jess, jaw clenching as he did so. 

“likeisaid. She’s gone.” 

Jess tried to force herself to become smaller somehow and avoided Billy’s piercing eyes, finding the Byers’ random array of throw rugs a better sight than Hargrove’s angry gaze. His eyes widened at her answer. “No. nonono this cannot be..” Panic began to replace the anger. He started to pat himself down, hoping that Max and her stupid friends left by anything other than his beloved Camaro. How was he going to bring her home now? “How long ago did they leave?” Desperation coated his question, and Jess almost started to feel bad for him.  

“Dunno, awhile ago, Billy. Wait!” 

Billy began to turn from his elbow onto his palm and pushed himself up. His head began to spin as the blood found itself elsewhere, but Billy could not focus on that right now. He needed to leave, he needed to catch up to them. “Where did she g-“and with this, he stumbled, causing Jess to leap to steady him, which she instantly regretted as he may have fallen unconscious after falling, maybe hitting his head, and that seemed to be a better alternative to him conscious and asking all the wrong questions. Maybe if I just dropped him… She shook these intrusive thoughts from her head and brought him over to where she was sitting for the entirety of their interaction and helped him lean against the back of the couch. 

“Shit. SHIT.” Billy smashed the backside of his fist against the couch, making Jess jump. “Sorry.” Billy sighed, then his smirk slowly made an appearance again, but this time it wasn’t aimed at her. He began to chuckle at himself and continued until he started shaking his head. Acceptance replaced the fear in his tone, and he knew. He was utterly screwed. “Fuck Jess, I can’t leave here without her.” He was looking up at the ceiling now, the back of the couch pushed up against Billy’s neck, perfectly cradling his not-so-steady head. and Jess looked up as well, wondering what he could be possibly staring at. “Neil is going to kill me.”

 “Is.. is Neil your dad?”

“Mm.” 

She looked back over at him as she continued, “Well, she’ll be back, and then you guys can go home.” At this, Billy looked over at the clock which indicated it was already midnight. 

“Great.” 

Billy cracked a smile again, chuckling at what awaited him at home. “Could you maybe rinse your mouth with water or something?” Billy immediately dropped his smile and looked over at her with confusion, visibly hurt by this request. Billy proceeded to lift his hand to his mouth, but before he could try and “discreetly” gage his breath, Jess began to laugh while wildly shaking her head back and forth.  “No! No, it’s just, you know, the blood.” 

Billy had somehow forgotten his fight with Harrington but was relieved to know it wasn’t a lack of personal hygiene that was causing her to wince at every smile this whole time. Jess then hurried to the kitchen, avoiding the smashed plate and the fallen clutter on the floor, to grab a glass and fill it with water. She then proceeded back to Billy and began to attempt to bring the glass to his lips.

“I’m not paralyzed, you know.” 

“Right” She hands, more like pushes, the glass into Billy’s palm, causing some of the water to spill onto Billy’s arm, however, he doesn’t even notice as he starts to realize how thirsty he truly was with the reminder that water exists in this house. He washed the glass down within seconds of it reaching his hand and gives it back to Jess. “You were supposed to – “

“Yeah. Uh, could you?”

“Yup,” and you’re up again, soon handing him another glassful. This time, he takes the water and swishes it in his mouth, then stops, unaware of whether he should spit it back into the glass or swallow it to save you from having to see the orange-red liquid return into the cup. As if she was able to read his thoughts, she nods and tells him to “go ahead”, and Billy does as he’s told, spitting the water back into the glass.

“Uh, Sorry.”

“Don’t worry bout it.” 

She takes the cup from him and pours the liquid down the drain and rinses out the glass thoroughly. Poor Joyce, she thought as she maneuvered through the kitchen one last time, returning to Billy with a different glass, again full of water. Billy thanked her, and without another word, downed the water with two gulps and set the glass between his legs. He then repositioned back to where he was previous, and Jess followed suit. 

“So why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you here, and not with them?”

“Someone had to stay here and make sure you didn’t get into any more trouble.”

“Yeah, but why you and not someone else?” 

“Max thought you would be more civil since, according to her, we run in the same circle, and well, Steve wasn’t in any position to stay…”

The thought of Steve having to be carried away stuck with Jess, and it was her turn to be angry. “So Max told you to stay. I didn’t realize a thirteen-year-old child ran this shit show. I guess she’s right though, considering we’re friends now and all.” Billy now stared back at her, and she didn’t like this new twinkle in his eye. He then flicked his lips with his tongue and flashed yet another not-so-original smile, one she could see right through, one that he seemed to have practiced in the mirror a dozen times before this interaction, and though his mouth was no longer dark red, she liked this smile much less than the ones previously. 

“Steve Harrington. He’s my friend. You and me. We’re not friends.”

[elwenyere]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

I was tagged by my beloved @frostbitebakery: thank you so much, my friend!!!

1.) How many works do you have on ao3

56

2.) What's your ao3 word count?

301,664 words

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

So far, the MCU, Star Wars, and Top Gun.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Call Me By Your (Pet) Name (MCU, Sambucky)

Tactical Engagements (Star Wars, Codywan)

Citation Needed (MCU, Stony)

Helps to Relieve My Mind (MCU, Sambucky)

Good Soldiers (Star Wars, Codywan)

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do, yes! Sometimes it takes me a little while to write back if things in real life are hectic, but eventually I do, because I love chatting with readers about what they noticed in a story and what I was thinking about/working on while writing.

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have never written what I would call an unhappy ending. But sometimes what we know about the canon ending can still make the ending of a fic bittersweet, and that's true of a fair number of fics I've written. I think the two fics that leave canon angst most fully on the table are my MCU ficlet A Stitch in Time, which is about what else Steve might have done while returning those stones, and my wee Star Wars piece Yes, It Feels Like That, which is a moment with Leia's grief during ANH.

7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I swear: I used to write plenty of fics that were happy all the way through! That happens a lot less frequently now. But Right on Time is just about the happiest ending I could give to a post-war Codywan, and my Sambucky fic Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice is (to me) maybe the funniest fic I've written.

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

I've been very lucky with readers who are largely very generous.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I am a relative newcomer to writing smut, but I have dabbled, yes. I'm not sure what kind of smut it is. Feelings-forward, I guess?

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I think the only thing I've written that could come close to being classified as a crossover was my very first multi-chapter fic, Should You Choose to Accept It, which included characters from both the mainstream Avengers and Agents of SHIELD and mashed up the plots of Iron Man 3, CA: TWS, AOS Season One, and Mission Impossible 3.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet!

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yes! The Stony identity porn/professor AU fic Citation Needed was a collaboration with the incredible @festiveferret, and it is the most fun I've had writing fic.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

Cannot pick a favorite, but my first OTP was Mulder/Scully, and they will always have a special place in my heart.

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

God what a painful question. 😅 I am a stubborn bastard, and I don't know if I've fully admitted defeat on any of my WIPs, even the ones I've neglected the most. But the WIP that's probably been waiting for my attention the longest is the sequel to my Stony fic Three Little Words; or, Five Times Steve and Tony Didn’t Actually Apologize + One Time They Did, which I cannot abandon or scrap for parts because I'm really attached to the bits that I have written, but which I haven't been able to make progress on for a long time. Bug me for snips about it if you like: I would love to be able to share what I have so far.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

A borderline aggressive amount of figurative language, narrative beats that feel layered, and I think I have a decent ear for dialogue.

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm so, so, so inexpressibly slow, and I also build up increasing levels of anxiety about WIPs when I'm not getting outside perspectives about them, so I find it nearly impossible to write anything longer than 20k.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have experimented with this a little bit in the past, and I'm currently trying it again in a WIP in a language I'm not deeply familiar with, which is nerve-wracking. But I think it can be so effective when done well, and I'm excited to keep growing in that area.

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Stony in the MCU: a missing-scene fic from Endgame

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

I love all my children equally, but my Codywan fic Recollection is probably the fic that felt most ambitious to me at the time that I wrote it: memory-related temporal shenanigans, surreal scene changes, some heavy psychic territory, and my very first smut scenes. I'm proud of how many new things I tried.

----

Open tags for anyone who would like to play!!! This was very fun: @ me with your answers if you'd like to join. <3<3<3

[technicalknockout]

What were some of your favourite pages in the book?

god thats a hard one jsnfjksdk the entire book is so good but i do have my favorites. heres an entire list

silly straws page - i read in 'dipper and mabel's guide to mystery and nonstop fun' that bill likes silly straws and thought it was a silly random tidbit, imagine how surprised i was when i realized there was LORE behind it.. im still figuring out some codes bc i dont wanna look them up and im having so much fun !!

stanford trying to keep me from reading the book page - "you cant hear the disappointed sigh im making rn, but i assure you it's devastating" i mean he failed to stop me from reading the entire thing in one sitting but i was just very happy to see ford's cursive again. It was really funny seeing him trying to guess what the reader would be convinced by (i saw the moth picture and thought 'whats that called, a goth moth?' I laughed out loud when it turned out that was actually its name)

urban legends page - as a long time fan of creepypasta the references in this page absolutely delighted me. Also the art is so realistically horrifying, whoever drew these i love you

the one true intelligence test - idk this page just made me laugh a lot

Entire anti-cipher society part - i love how instead of telling the story in just plain text, they made us follow the story with newspapers and journal pages. What was that called. I swear there was a name for that kind of storytelling if anyone knows pls pls tell me

every page with ford and fiddleford - BEAUTIFUL. SUBLIME. BEST THING TO EVER EXIST IN THE WORLD. I HECKING LOVE FRIENDS BEING WHOLESOME TOGETHER AND I LOVE IT MORE WHEN THEYRE MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS FROM MY FAVORITE SHOW. THEY MAD SNOWMEN OF EACH OTHER THATS SO CUTE

"but my aim is getting better" - do i need to explain this one

whatever this page is called;

I hated reading this (i loved reading this). i kinda got spoiled before i bought the book with an analysis post, had to literally put my phone down and think about what id just read. i think this page really puts bill and ford's relationship into perspective. ford's a person and bill's a multidimensional semi-god creature, bill will do and say anything in his power to get ford to do what he wants. this relationship cannot even begin to resemble normal. and also the forgetting your own name part horrified me, thats some good horror right there.. love it when books make me have a visceral reaction to tiny words on paper

call transcript from the police - OH the LORE and CHARACTER ANALYSIS FOOD RIGHT HERE. i could talk for hours about how bill straight up sucks at relationships and he's SO unwilling to admit he was upset about falling out with ford that he's lying to himself MULTIPLE TIMES OVER AND OVER and how a lack of genuine connection with people is eating him up - but if i talked about all that this post would spiral into insanity real quick. Also drunk bill talking into the phone was very very sad and very very on character and i could hear hirsch's bill voice inside my head it was really good aghjgnkhhh

stan's page - I ALMOST CRIED AND I KNOW THATS KIND OF A WEIRD REACTION BUT I SAW THE STAN PAGE IN THISISNOTAWEBSITEDOTCOM OKAY AND IT WAS MAKING ME VERY UNWELL I WAS EXTREMELY RELIEVED TO JUST HEAR THIS MAN SO HAPPY AGAIN STANLEY PINES I LOVE YOU YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING

yee that turned out longer than id anticipated jdndjs

overall this was amazing. an entire book written in my favorite character's voice is something i've only ever dreamed of and it's genuinely a frickin honour to have a copy in my house. my bookshelf is 2% more cursed now and i would not have it any other way.

one of these days im gonna black out and there will be a twenty-pages long essay on bill's social life on your feed. i advise you to gently scroll past it without looking.

[tarabyte3]

✨Fanfiction updates!✨

I Want You to Show Me Weak

I'm over halfway done with chapter 24! Currently writing the smut half 😏 It's always the part that gives me the most trouble because I've written so much Kino x Reader smut at this point, trying to make things feel fresh is a challenge. But it's a fun challenge 😌 Unfortunately that means the last few chapters will take me longer to write. I AM writing them, though. I promise!

The Devil Makes Us Sin

I'm maaaybe 2/3 of the way through chapter 3? The chapters for this fic will be longer than what I've done for previous works. Chapter 2 was 9.9k words and this one is already over 7k.

Other

I have 3 other Kino pieces on AO3 that I've never posted here: 1. Reprieve - A short Kino centric masturbation one shot, 2. Wake Up, Look Me in the Eyes Again - A Kino x M!Reader one shot, and 3. Wants, Needs, and Clerical Errors - My first Kino x F!Reader fic that is 3 chapters long. I'm going make Tumblr posts for them this week so I can eventually make a fic masterlist.

There was a future smut scene I was writing for TDMUS that I got halfway through before I realized it didn't fit the tone of that fic. But I still loved it (🥵🫠) so I'm turning it into a smutty oneshot. Now you have even more David Robey smut to look forward to!

I have a new Kino x Reader idea that I've been making notes for because it'll be my next multi chapter Kino fic after Show Me Weak (just much shorter length). It's a modern setting AU with Kino as a personal fitness trainer. STAY WITH ME! I SWEAR IT'S WORTH IT, JUST HEAR ME OUT! A month ago I started going to my own personal trainer. He's an awesome dude that I'm comfortable being completely pathetic and whiny around. And I'm enjoying it because he's kicking my ass into shape. However. The man has said things to me to try to motivate me that, when taken out of context, are some of the most casual, unhinged dom things I've ever heard IRL. When I shared them with my discord friends (Next Big Franchise shout out, I love you 💖), it was suggested that I make a Personal Trainer!Kino fic based on just the quotes alone and I latched onto that idea so fuckin hard. Because my PT saying them does absolutely nothing for me (grey ace), but the thought of Kino saying them is jfc hot 🥵. And because I am benevolent, here are a few examples: 🔸"Good, I want you to hurt" 🔸 "Do it again. You're going to keep those thighs open for me." 🔸 "I know you can give me more." 🔸 "Don't lift those hips. I'll hold you down if I have to." So there you have it: Modern AU PT!Kino x Reader that becomes more and more sexually confusing until they're just fucking on a weight bench 😌😇