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passerine-writes · 1 year ago

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Silent Sparks - Volt 56

Warnings: HEAVY TALK OF S/H AND SU*C*DE Word count: 3860

Notes: Italics - Tsukare signing Bold italics - Family member/friend signing 'Italics with apostrophes' - Thoughts

Masterlist

Volt 55 | Volt 57

Over the next few days, I got a little more sleep, but not a significant amount. We kept training our ultimate moves, and I finally got my costume back, trying out the new cables and enjoying being able to swing around. It felt similar to skateboarding in a sense, it was freeing and relaxing. On the screen of my glasses, I saw a giant rock falling towards All Might, and every hero will say this, but my body moved on its own. I sprinted towards him, sending out a cable to the wall to help pull me forward. My free arm wrapped around his torso and just as we moved, Midoriya kicked it out of the way, breaking it into hundreds of tiny rocks.

"Thank you, Young Tsukare. I see you've gotten an upgrade to your costume, very nice." I raised an eyebrow but quickly tried to mask my look of uneasiness.

"Yeah, thanks. Hey, 'Zuku! Since when do you fight with your legs?" My friend sent me a smile and jogged over, I met him half way, shocked with his new moves.

"I call it Shoot Style, I actually got the idea from a girl named Hatsume in the support course."

"She's a bit out there but she seems nice, I'm glad she gave you a good idea dude. And this doesn't mean you get to go breaking your legs now. Got it?" His eyes went wide under my stare and he quickly nodded.

"Got it! So have you picked out any names yet?"

"I'm thinking Shattering Waves for when I tear up the ground and Deafening Accuracy for my pin point break on the wall." He almost lit up like a christmas tree hearing the names I was considering.

"Those are perfect!" I laughed along with his excitement, freezing for a minute before relaxing as Yoru swung an arm over my shoulders.

"Pretty nice names, and nice saves to both of you. When'd you get your suit upgraded?" I fiddled with the gloves on my hands, tucking my arms closer to my stomach nervously.

"Woah, Onryo! Is that how you moved so fast? Can I see?" Midoriya happily asked.

"Dude, Midoriya, what was that? You swooped in and wasted that rock." I perked up at the sound of Denki and saw him standing beside Kirishima.

"I always thought you were more of a puncher." Kiri tagged in.

"And Onryo? Wicked save, were those cables that you shot out of your gloves?" I nodded and awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck, hoping to hide the blush on my face as just overworking myself.

"I am. Or, I was. It's these new soles. Hatsume suggested them and I really think they'll really up my game." I finally looked down and saw what he was talking about. "Plus, Iida's been showing me how to use my body better, so my fighting style has changed. I've only just figured out what direction to go in, I still have a lot of work to do. Nothing I'd call an ultimate move yet." I laughed as Midoriya still held his foot.

"Zuku, you can put your foot down already." He flushed and quickly dropped his foot, falling in the process. I laughed and walked over to help him up. "Great balance skills."

"Oh hush." He mumbled, his tiny bit of sass peaking out.

"I dunno. Based on that kick, I'd say you're further along then you think. So, you should be ready for this test." All Might commented and I stared at him in shock.

'Is he helping?'

I rubbed my temples as I processed what just happened.

"You guys made improvements to your costumes, too?" I heard my best friend ask the duo in front of us.

"Yeah! I see you've noticed we look pretty awesome." Denki said with two thumbs up and a wide grin.

"You two aren't the only ones here with a brand-new style. We've all been making changes here and there. Nows the time to upgrade, right?" I nodded along to Kirishima's words and gave him a fist bump.

"Just wait! My new special gear is gonna blow your mind. It's a serious power boost. Wanna see? C'mon. It's totally amazing!" I smiled at Denki's enthusiasm.

"That's enough, Class A." I turned at the sound of my Uncle Seki and waved to him. "Class B is scheduled to use this training room every afternoon." Denki started complaining about their poor timing and I placed a hand on his shoulder, watching as he perked back up a bit. "Eraser, get your kids out of our way." I rolled my eyes at my Uncle's theatrics.

"You're not trying to kick us out early when we have ten whole minutes left, are you?" I watched as Dad bickered back.

"Hey, did ya hear? The license exam has a fifty percent pass rate. That means your entire class might fail." Monoma announced and started cackling.

"Couldn't the same be said for you?" He stopped mid laugh and looked at me. "Shove off already Monoma, nobody wants to listen to your senile ramblings."

"Senile? Sorry ginger, but I think you have to flunk out to go back to the basics and learn what that word means." I rubbed my temples.

"No, I got it right, senile is most commonly in the elderly and uh, based on how you dress? I'd say you're pushing it a century or so. And you seem to be forgetting a lot, like how you were the only one in your class that had to take supplementary classes during camp." He buffered for a moment until I heard a very familiar voice behind me.

"Onryo. Behave." I glared at Monoma, listening to what he had to say next. "We won't be in the same location. Our classes applied to different spots." I raised an eyebrow cockily.

"There are two exam days. In June and in September. And the tests are held in three different places. We don't want students from the same place fighting. We split you up. Each school has at most one class at a single location." I watched as Monoma sighed and I bit back a laugh.

"How sad we won't be able to face each other directly." He announced full of his theatrics.

"How sad I won't get to watch you fail." He froze again.

"You don't have much room to talk, after all, you're fifty percent of the reason camp was cancelled early." In my glasses, I watched as some of my classmates heads snapped in our direction. My brother swung down and stood beside Midoriya, clearly waiting to see if he had to intervene.

"Excuse me?" I asked in a low tone, my blood boiling as I took a step closer.

"Don't act so perplexed. We all know the truth. If you and that angry blond weren't at the training camp, then none of it would have happened. We would already have our provisional licenses if it weren't for the two of you." He said as he took two steps closer.

"You don't know a damn thing you're talking about, you stuck up, pretentious twat." He raised an eyebrow and stepped even closer.

"Oh? I don't?" He gestured to my arms. "Just like how you couldn't even finish the job they started? What a fruitless attempt." And that's what it took for me to finally reach my breaking point. I reached up and grabbed his tie tight, watching the panic on his face as I yanked him down the small bit to my height. Hitoshi, Midoriya, Kirishima and Denki rushed forward, each of them ready to stop a fight but simply stood still when I didn't swing.

"You keep your fucking mouth, shut. Happy? You hit a damn nerve. So let me make this clear, you say one more thing out of line in front of me, I'll gladly take a suspension over it. Because you're gonna be the one on the ground crying, and I'm gonna be the one standing. All it takes to get half way there," I swept his legs out from under him and held him up by the collar of his shirt, "is that much effort. Run your fucking mouth again, I dare you." I spat out, fuming at what he had to say. He kept his mouth shut and I dropped him to the ground. I turned to Dad, signing to him that I was going to take a run around the school, needing to distract my mind, before taking out my hearing aids.

I hopped on the schools track and did a few laps. But even that didn't calm me down. I pulled my phone out of my duffel bag after an hour of jogging and saw plenty of messages.

Tsukababes Pokémon

From Scraggy: So that was amarillo?

From Espeon: Yeah.

From Rayquaza: Yep

From Venomoth: Do you think he's okay? I've never seen him that angry and he's not answering the group chat

From Pikachu: I'm worried too

From Boldore: That was crazy, I thought we were gonna have to hold him back

From Scraggy: I'm surprised your dad didn't get in between it

From Espeon: He was prepared to stop Onryo from throwing a punch, however he still allows us to fall down and get back up.

From Pikachu: I've never seen him that mad, I just hope he's okay

Class A Baddies

(Turtwig - Tsu, Typhlosion - Bakugou, Machamp - Shoji, Reshiram - Iida, Clefa - Uraraka, Toxitricity - Jirou, Bruxish - Aoyama, Shaymin - Koda, Machoke - Sato, Murkrow - Tokoyami, Mienfoo - Ojiro, Diancie - Hagakure, Jirachi - Yaomomo, Espeon - Shinsou, Boldore - Kirishima, Pikachu - Kaminari, Regice - Todoroki, Rayquaza - Midoriya, Venomoth - Mina, Scraggy - Sero, Whismur - Tsukare)

From Reshiram: Tsukare, are you alright?

From Clefa: I hope you're okay, Monoma had no right to say whatever he did

From Diancie: What even did he say to get Tsukare that mad?

From Venomoth: Yeah! Kiri, what'd he say?

From Mienfoo: Should we really be butting into Tsukare's private life like this?

From Turtwig: I agree with Ojiro. It doesn't feel right to ask personal questions like that, especially after he had a rough day

From Machoke: If Tsukare reacted like that, then he must've had a good reason

From Machamp: Monoma was outta line

From Rayquaza: Shoji?? You heard?

From Machamp: I was trying to listen to Aizawa, accidentally heard what Monoma and Tsukare were arguing about

From Typhlosion: The fuck did that shitty extra say?

From Espeon: None of your business.

From Typhlosion: I wasn't asking you, mind fuck

From Rayquaza: Kacchan, it's really not our place to say. It's up to Onryo if he wants the class knowing or not

From Typhlosion: Shut your trap, shitty nerd

From Turtwig: We shouldn't push into Onryo's personal life like this, it's up to him. Those who know, know. Those who don't should wait until Onryo feels comfortable enough to tell them.

From Regice: I'm curious as to what was said, but if he would like to keep it private we should respect that.

From Drowzee: Tomorrow before training we're talking to Nedzu. Vlad and I called for a meeting with him.

From Espeon: Are you okay?

From Boldore: You okay, bro? I know how hard that was, let me know if you need anything

From Scraggy: I don't know what was said but I'm sorry for whatever he said

From Rayquaza: Monoma had no right to say that, are you alright?

From Pikachu: Hey

From Pikachu: Are you okay?

From Pikachu: I'm sorry that douche wad said that

From Pikachu: He had no right to

I sighed and tucked my phone away, heading back to the locker rooms to take a quick shower and change into regular clothes. I put my hearing aids back in for the walk, knowing plenty of my classmates would bombard me with questions. On the path, I heard someone talking behind me. Not at me, but rather tauntingly.

"He's not scary, I should've given him a taste of his own medicine, show him how to really use his quirk. Maybe he'd have better control if he didn't lose his hearing." I tensed up but kept walking, my pace slower, waiting for him and whoever he was with to catch up.

"Monoma, just shut up already. You're being a dick. Tsukare's a nice guy, plus he's right in front of us, cut it out." Kendo chided.

"Please, don't you know? He can't hear us anyways. Oh and his brother? With a quirk like that, he should just drop out and become a villain." I turned around and stopped in my tracks, watching as Kendo smacked him on the back of the head and he stared at me shocked.

"Wow, look at that, the kid with barely any hearing heard every word of bullshit that just came out your mouth. Shocker, I have hearing aids. Talk about me all you want behind me back, but you leave my friends and my family out of it. At least when I say something, I'm confident enough to say it to your face." I said as I got closer to him, barely a foot of space between us. Kendo stepped back and raised her hands in mock surrender.

"You did this to yourself Monoma."

"Please, you don't scare me. I'm only speaking the truth. Why don't you run along and finish that failed attempt, hm? Or maybe you can get even more attention and have the League of Villains do that job right?" Suddenly he crumpled to the ground and I saw Kendo's large fist raised above him.

"I'm so sorry about him. Are you okay?" She asked sweetly but all I could feel was my throat closing.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Uh, thank you, for knocking him out. But I have to get back to my dorm." She nodded and I quickly turned and sped off.

'Do it.'

'You're worthless anyways.'

'Why am I still here?'

I took a deep, shaky breath and walked into the dorms. Immediately, most of them circled around me and started asking what happened and if I was alright and it felt like a dam inside me broke. My body felt like it was on autopilot as I walked towards the first person I could, not even caring that it was Bakugou. Sobs racked my body as I hugged him tightly, tears soaking into his shirt but I couldn't find it in myself to care anymore. Slowly, his arms stiffly settled on my upper back, which only made me cry harder. I couldn't stop the tears, no matter how hard I tried, they just wouldn't stop.

"Let's go to your dorm, ear bleed." Bakugou said after a few minutes and guided me to my dorm room. Without looking, I already knew my brother was following us, Midoriya and the others probably were too. "Mind fuck and this shitty nerd can come, the rest of you extras stay down here." He snapped at everyone before we went up the elevator and to my room. I curled up on my bed, tears still streaming down my face in what seemed to be a never ending waterfall. Midoriya sat at the foot of my bed, Hitoshi sat beside me rubbing my arm and Bakugou straddled the desk chair, arms resting on the top of it. "You gonna tell us what the hell happened?" I nervously started scratching at my wrist, Hitoshi lightly dragging my arm away and handing me a fidget cube.

"Is it because of what Monoma said earlier?" Hitoshi gently asked and I shook my head.

"What'd that dumbass even say?" Hitoshi looked to me and I nodded, furiously wiping my eyes.

"He started blaming you and Onryo for us having to leave camp, he told Monoma he had no idea what he was talking about, that asshole pushed his buttons and said that Onryo couldn't even go through and attempt to finish what they started." Bakugou's eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at the ground.

"Dont fucking listen to that asshole. He doesn't know a damn thing."

"Onryo? You said it wasn't because of earlier, did something else happen with him?" Midoriya asked me hesitantly and I slowly nodded.

I don't wanna talk about it.

"No. I'm not allowing that. If you don't want to tell them, that's fine, but you're at least telling me. Fuck the family rule right now, if it's bad enough that he got you to cry in front of everyone here, then I'm not taking 'I don't wanna talk about it.' So what did he say." I shrunk in on myself as Hitoshi scolded me. I already knew he wouldn't take it, but I was shocked to see him demand that I tell him.

He told me to finish the job.

"What?" Hitoshi asked as he let out a breath.

He started talking shit about me while him and Kendo were walking. Going on about how he could use my quirk better and shit. That I couldn't hear him anyways so what's the harm of voicing it when he's behind me. Then he started talking about you and saying you should drop out and become a villain, that's when I snapped and he ended up telling me that I should just go finish the job or I could go to the League of Villains to get more attention and make sure they actually do it right.

My brothers face fell, along with Midoriya's, Bakugou looked appalled. Hitoshi pulled me into a hug and held me, another wave of tears starting. After a minute, Bakugou and Midoriya left us alone.

"Can I have some time alone, please?" He nodded and gave me one final squeeze before leaving my room.

I sat there for twenty minutes, wishing that this feeling inside me would go away. That if I hoped hard enough, then I'd stop feeling like this. It didn't happen, I only continued to feel worse as I stewed in my thoughts. I got up and opened my desk drawer, in the far back right corner I grabbed something that I haven't used in years. The small bit of sharp metal that I found while moving, glinting in the light as I grasped it.

The bandages on my legs itched but I ignored it as I pulled my sweatpants on. Every step hurt, my thighs feeling like they were on fire, but I was finally able to feel something. Something other then depression and misery and dread towards my own existence. I felt ever so slightly more alive. My phone buzzed on my bed and I saw a text from an unknown number.

From Unknown: Hey it's Yoru

From Tropius: Hope you don't mind that I got your number from Eraser

From Tropius: Can you come meet me outside the dorm building?

To Tropius: Yeah, be down in a sec

I pocketed my phone and slid on my shoes, rushing outside despite all the lingering eyes watching in the common room.

Yoru sat on the bench patiently, standing up straight once I shut the door. I stood there awkwardly and watched as he pointed to the bench, both of us heading over and sitting in an awkward silence.

"You've changed a lot. You're not the same scared little kid at the foster center anymore." I nodded stiffly.

"Yeah, a lots changed. You've changed too." He looked at me and cocked an eyebrow.

"How have I changed?"

"You're more laidback. Care free. I have a feeling you either hang out with or work with Hawks a lot, at the very least, you look up to him. You act very similarly." He looked at me with wide eyes. "What?"

"I.. I always forgot how smart and perceptive you are. I see why Nedzu wants to get your IQ tested." I blushed out of embarrassment and shrugged. "Seriously, you don't give yourself enough credit."

"So what do you mean I've changed?" He smirked and leaned back.

"Well, when you were a kid, the second that blond haired kid opened his mouth, you would've hid behind the nearest person or tried to blend in with a crowd. Let alone you grabbing his collar like that. You fought back, and you swear like a sailor now." I huffed out a weak laugh and nodded. "You aren't afraid to use your quirk anymore, either. You stand up instead of standing down. I'm proud of you." I looked at him in disbelief. "I am. It makes me feel proud knowing you know how to handle yourself. I know you don't need my protection anymore but I'm still going to protect you." I nodded and swallowed the lump of emotions down my throat. "How'd you know I'm friends with Hawks?" I smirked and leaned back beside him.

"You act a lot like him. He's the one who flew me off the roof so I've met him. He's very laid back, down to earth but also exuberant. You see how he talks in interviews and during the hero rankings each year." He hummed and nodded.

"You got a point. Didn't realize how much he rubbed off on me." I softly laughed beside him. "Do you feel ready for the test?" I shrugged and tucked my arms against my stomach.

"I don't know. I'm somewhat confident in my abilities, and I know at least some of the class will have my back if I need help at all. But we're all at an unfair disadvantage, and I think Toshi and I are the only ones in the class who fully realize that right now."

"Disadvantage, how?" He asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"You already know, you lived through it. U.A. students are targeted first, everyone saw us in the sports festival. It's a battle strategy, pick off the weakest and strongest that you know about so they can't get you when you least expect it, then go for the unknown variables." He smirked, pride radiating from him. "What?"

"I'm glad you realize that. Do you got a game plan?" I shrugged, still not fully sure on what it is.

"I'll probably end up sticking with Toshi most of the time."

"Not that blonde haired kid?" I looked at him confused before letting out a breath.

"Denki and I are.. just friends. What about you? Do you have a significant other?" He blushed and I elbowed his bicep. "C'mon, spill."

"There's.. this girl. But she's interested in someone else." I gave him a half frown and patted his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Yoru. What's her name?" He shook his head and leaned back.

"Nah, I'll leave it a mystery for you." I sighed dramatically and looked at the stars. "So, a meeting with Nedzu tomorrow, huh?" I nodded slightly.

"Yeah, and Dad, Uncle Seki and that douche canoe." He snorted at my language.

"Douche canoe? C'mon that isn't even a thing." I shrugged and leaned back.

"Eh, if I can put the words together, I'll probably use it at some point."

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elieclown · 2 years ago

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Okay now that I completely spoiled myself on Miraculous Ladybug Season 5 I will say this in the least spoilery way possible.

First of all, I'm sorry I got back into the shoujo spiderman kids show. I read adult comics for grown ups sometimes but I can't for the life of me watch things geared toward my own age unless it involves lo-fi baking or sanding down a desk, so I end up getting into stuff like this. I am an enigma. I blame my addiction to shoujo comics I very legally found online as a teen. If you don't want to see me talking about the ladyboog and/or the catenoow just add #miraculous ladybug and #ml to your filter list since I'll use those when entering the cringe teen drama zone.

Second of all if you are like me and spoiled yourself rotten don't take the ml bible for granted as everything that will happen. It's an interesting read, especially the segments that discusses earlier seasons, it confirmed a lot of what I assumed but never outright stated (for example the fact that Adrien before season 5 never let go of his and Marinette's first encounter and worried that Marinette is so awkward around him because she still doesn't like him...and other things. very told ya moments in this chilis)

But its not everything. It's a skeleton, meant to ensure accuracy between episodes, not a novel. Even with all that the leaks give it's still only 10% of what we've seen of season 5. There's more to an episode than the equivalent of a short two sentence wiki page. It's like basing a game on a walkthrough before it even releases.

Don't get me wrong, there are some big spoilers in there, and if you don't like certain plot points that will happen, that's fine! In fact there's one in there right now that still baffles me...But again, we're basing our judgment on a wikipedia page instead of the complete piece.

Besides, even though the bible said it was updated end of season 5, it doesn't mean 100% that it was updated after the season was finished writing. There are things that could still change.

Anyway I just would like to watch my cringe teen shoujo spiderman show in peace, its not worth boiling my head in a pot over it. A lot of shows/pieces of media I can get so attached to I can literally make myself sick overthinking it (don't ask me why,) Mircaulous Ladybug is one of the few shows I can relax to and not stress about the quality. I am immune to things like "this show's writing is bad," and "this [character that's just been introduced or doesn't have a lot of screen time] has zero development and is useless," and "my version of this show is better I can fix it."

And now with my power I shall pass this immunity on to you. Now hold still so you can enjoy this silly show with me!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml bible #ml bible leak #ml spoilers #ml leaks #don't get me wrong there's things about the show i dont hundo percent agree with #it just doesn't effect my enjoyment of the show as a whole

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years ago

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Thoughts (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,7 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 2 rewrite + added scene. Claire finds out what’s on Ethan’s mind every time he sees her.

Warnings: None

A/N: What’s that? Ethan and MC are acting like a couple? Did you mean ‘give them more fluff’? I got you, no problem.

Ethan’s focus was forcefully shifted from the paperwork he’s been working on to the two figures that appeared in the doorway to his office. His forehead creased at the sight of his newest patient being wheeled into the room. Not a fraction of a second later, Claire came into his field of vision and, as bizarre as it seemed, her presence alone managed to lessen the irritation the new administration of the hospital evoked in him every single day since they came back to work. Remembering what the deal with their patient was, he schooled his features as much as he could.

“Dr. Herondale, is everything alright?” he found her eyes with his, feeling a wave of warmth flooding him. Claire moved her head slightly, a shift in her stance so miniscule that if he weren��t paying as close attention to her as he did, he wouldn’t have caught it.

��Everything’s okay, I just figured that since we were waiting for Andrew’s M.R.I., we could study his… symptoms a little more.” She walked closer, leaning on the desk. A whisper of a grin made itself at home on her face. “Mind taking part in a little experiment?”

He somehow knew that it would come to this, almost as though he could read her mind now too. Ridiculous as the situation was, he knew saying ‘no’ wasn’t a real option for him – he’s lost the ability to deny her anything a long time ago. With a sigh, he waved his hand for Andrew to begin.

“He’s tense.” The young man started, matter-of-factly. Ethan scoffed.

“I don’t think you need psychic powers to determine that.” He pointed out, leaning back in his seat. Looking at Claire again, he found her already staring at him with a tenacious spark. “… Fine, proceed. But only because I agree that we need to determine what’s going on here.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” She muttered under her breath, grinning cheekily at him. “All right, Andrew, tell me what does Dr. Ramsey think about me?”

With no hesitation, Andrew replied. “You mean besides what he’d be doing with you now if the two of you were alone?”

Ethan’s head snaps towards their patient before he can even think about what he’s doing. “What?”

“Am I right?”

“Ethan?” Claire’s voice betrayed the surprise she was trying to hide with a stoic look on her face. She didn’t have to say anything else, really, because Ethan already knew that she’d tease him endlessly with that knowledge. A flash of heat licked its way up his spine, coloring his neck red. He broke the eye contact, incredibly interested in anything but her all the sudden. There was no running from her, though, since the first thing that his eyes landed upon was a photo of Claire and him from the gala.

It took him a moment to find his voice again, words melting into a mumble.

“… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Andrew, encouraged rather than disheartened by the obvious effect he had on the doctor, continued. “In the slightly more PG realm, he’s about ten times happier since you walked through the door.”

Ethan cracked a helpless smile, feeling himself unable to keep a straight face. He tried to make his voice sound stern, but at this point, not even Ethan himself believed his tough demeanor.

“I would really prefer it if you stopped while I still have some dignity left.”

The young man fell quiet, clearly proud of himself. Meanwhile, Claire turned around towards her partner and leaned closer. Her hair fell over her shoulder, creating a curtain that hid her face from Andrew. Ethan felt locked in place, hypnotized by her charming smile.

“You have something to say about this…?” she trailed off, dropping her voice to a warm mutter. He hesitated, unsure how much freedom he could allow himself, but ultimately, the look she was giving him made him forgo his inhibitions.

“I won’t deny that he’s right.” He began, causing her to grin knowingly. “But he could have figured this out by the way my eyes follow you. Or my body language, for that matter.” He recalled all the times in which his body gravitated towards hers during the initial consult, their shoulders pressing together.

“I don’t know about it, Dr. Ramsey.” Leaning into him even further, she whispered sultrily. “That thing about throwing me on the desk… not that it would be the first time…” her gaze fell to his lips, the corners of her own inching upwards. Ethan’s breath caught in his throat, his body moving towards her slightly. Before he could reach her, she straightened her posture and turned back around to her previous position. “That was strangely familiar. Not to mention, accurate.”

Andrew cleared his throat, bringing the attention of both his doctors back to him. The older diagnostician blushed an even deeper red color.

“Be that as it may, it would help to test it further with more concrete questions. Mr. Polowsky tell me…” Ethan wondered what question he should ask, deciding upon something that there was no way he could figure out simply by observing him. “My favorite place to vacation.”

This time, the young man hesitated, taking a moment to think before answering. “New York?”

“Try ‘no place at all’.” Claire chimed in, looking over her shoulder to gauge Ethan’s reaction. “Dr. Ramsey here is a workaholic.”

“Very funny, Claire. Try again, Mr. Polowsky.”

“Maybe Las Vegas?”

Ethan laughed, shaking his head in disagreement for the second time. He felt Claire’s eyes on him, noticing a curious glint when he looked into them. They kept the contact long after Andrew admitted that he didn’t know the answer.

“Weird. You were getting perfect reads with everyone else.”

“This ability clearly has its limits. It might help narrow down the possible causes.” Ethan nodded in agreement, observing their patient closely.

“So what is your favorite vacation spot?” Andrew questioned, curious about where the world-renowned diagnostician chose to relax.

“Nice try. I may not use Pictagram much…” Ethan laughed, sending a meaningful look Claire’s way, her latest photo never too far from his thoughts. “But I know better than to give away my best kept secret and invite the crowds in.”

He observed them as they left for Andrew’s M.R.I., perplexed by the whole situation. Claire looked back at him and once she was sure she had his attention, she blew him a kiss, grinning smugly at the charged look he gave her.

Some time later, he found her hunched over the table in his office, deep into the article displayed on her laptop. Leaning against the side of the table, he looked into her research.

“Any progress?”

“Nothing new. M.R.I. didn’t show any significant changes, blood tests came back with no indications towards any probable causes.” Her shoulders fell in disappointment. “We’re back to square one. Flu… and psychic abilities.” Claire fell deeper into her seat, sighing deeply. “And those powers are getting creepy. You saw it yourself.”

“I can certainly agree that his accuracy is uncanny, not something you’d usually expect from cold reading. But it’s not enough to convince me that he has magical powers.” Straightening his back, he hummed under his breath. “He wasn’t 100% right.”

“He was right about you, though.” Claire smiled suspiciously at him. “Mostly. I still want to know what’s that heavily guarded holiday destination of yours.”

Ethan’s hand moved to her neck, trailing upwards until he reached her pulse point, tracing the delicate skin with the tip of his finger.

“If I tell you now, there won’t be an element of surprise when I take you there.”

Her eyes fluttered close for a moment, losing her focus upon the feeling of his skin against hers. She was breathless when she spoke again, and he was sure he had her distracted. How wrong he was.

“Are you going to be thinking about me when we’re there the way you think about me when we’re at work?”

A low groan escaped him, a hint of a blush returning to his face. “You’re not gonna let me live this down, huh.”

Claire scrunched her nose adorably, the only response he needed, then turned back to her research. Ethan moved to stand behind her, squeezing her shoulders from time to time as they brainstormed for possible causes of their patient’s special powers.

His eyes found her in the evening after they diagnosed Andrew, just as she was about to leave. The atrium was strangely quiet, providing a false sense of calmness. His feet carried him towards her on their own.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smiled warmly, reaching her side in a few strides. Claire raised an eyebrow at him, the corners of her lips rising smugly.

“Why? Were you hoping to see me?”

“Oh, definitely.” They were now face to face, eyes locked in a heated gaze. His fingers followed the hem of her jacket, pulling her closer to him by the lapel. “Do you have any plans for the evening?”

She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, humming softly. “I was originally gonna go home and drown myself in Netflix, but I suppose I could be convinced otherwise.”

“I see.” He nodded, stroking the line of her cheekbone with his knuckles. His voice dropped to a deep grumble, sending a thrilling shiver through her. “Can I make you dinner?”

Claire breathed out slowly. “Yeah.” Her shoulders fell as the tension accumulated throughout the whole day of work flew out of her. “I’d love that.”

Ethan threw his arm over her shoulder, tangling their fingers together and squeezing tenderly. He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, smiling once again – he’s been doing that a lot lately.

Before they reached the train station that would take them to his apartment, she saw an opening for one more tease.

“Do you want another blueberry smoothie in the morning?”

Notes

My two idiots are basically married. That’s all I see.

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #playchoices #ethan ramsey x mc

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pure-kirarin · 4 years ago

Text

What does Basil Hawkins like in a S/O ?

リクエストしてくれてありがとう ! I just can visualize the dates with him so well-- Anyways. I had to use my crystal ball for this one. I hope that it makes sense ! Thanks for giving the opportunity to write for this man @holykillercake <3 !

Unpredictable He draws his cards with close to 100% accuracy. Even though knowing exactly the chances and the odds is comforting to Basil, when it's about love, it's a different matter. He is fascinated by the unknown and by what his cards can’t predict. If you act in ways he can’t expect, it will instantly catch his attention.

Energetic Don’t they say that opposites attract ? This man looks half dead and emotionless, however, it's just that he physically can't show his emotions. It doesn't mean that he doesn't feel them. He is as a matter of fact comfortable and in touch with his psyche. He expresses no shame towards his feelings. He likes women with « radiant energy ». A bright smile, melodious voice, someone that has a welcoming and warm aura.

Spiritual I think that it's an easy thing to assume that Hawkins would be into a « spiritual » person. It's not necessarly a wiccan girl, even though it would be interesting to him. It's always delightful to have someone that is invested in learning more about the way he views life. He wouldn't show it but he would be so excited to do tarot readings for you. The moment that he learns your interest in esotericism he will feel like a child that is eager to share. My crystal ball tells me that he would love doing a lot of mystical sleepovers with you. Moon rituals ? Casting spells ? Making voodoo dolls ? That makes for perfect dates.

Committed The mage doesn't play games. The only games he plays are solitaire, poker or rummy. He is commitment-driven. He does believe in soulmates. The moment he saw you, he probably knew that you were bound to be together. He isn't an indecisive type of man. He will only have eyes for you and probably propose really fast.

Driven When you are passionate about something, so much that it's almost like a cult or an obsession. He finds it extremely adorable. We can’t say that Basil is a judgemental partner. He will accept any passion that you might have even if he doesn't share it. It's even better if you are passionated by art or reading. He wouldn't mind posing for you or having you read a book for him. Isn’t love about sharing interests after all ?

Trusting Nothing is more off-putting to him than an extremely jealous or possessive woman. Trust is one of the pillars of a relationship. At most, he finds possessiveness childish and he can't really understand that behavior. Especially that he will never give you a reason to be jealous in the first place.

Weak spot Play with his hair. From just running your fingers through it to head scratches or scalp massages, he loves it all. It's an instant relief after a long day, it makes him extremely relaxed and entierly at your mercy. In that state, you might consider asking him for anything, he would instantly accept. It's hard for him to trust anyone with his hair, because of how sensitive it is, yet he loves when it’s your gentle touch. He would do the same for yours, smell its peculiar fragrance when he hugs you or ruffle it gently with the tip of his fingers.

One thing you can do to drive this man crazy is wearing lacy lingerie. It's probably one of the rare ways of getting something close to a surprise reaction from him. That is something that his cards didn't predict that day.

#Basil x reader #Basil hawkings x reader #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #Basil hawkins #one piece basil

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mimedking · 4 years ago

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A little Bagginshield Masterlist

A small collection of some of my faves :)

Canon and Canon sort of.

A Black-feathered Omen by birdkeeperklink. Complete - G - 14k You need an AO3 account to view this work!!

Thorin is used to his raven wings being badly received by new acquaintances, but that doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt when Bilbo Baggins does nothing but gape at him when they first meet. And what right does he have to gawk at Thorin's wings when he doesn't have any at all?

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes by diemarysues. Complete- G- 64k

Bilbo Baggins has been plagued with dreams for some months, always filled with the same stranger: big hands, strong arms, dark hair. It seems a mystery until he figures that it is a Dwarf, though this only narrows down his search to every Dwarf in Erebor.

When he overhears mention of a special party in the Mountain he wishes briefly that he can attend. But that's ridiculous. He's a Hobbit, not a Dwarf. Turns out that's not a problem when magic is involved.

A Home for my Heart by Moonrose91. Complete - M - 54k

For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Against the pink sky blackberry tangles by vtforpedro. Complete - G - 14k

In which young Bilbo and Thorin meet at a blackberry thicket and grow older together, sowing a love of their own, whether they are near to each other or apart.

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat. Complete - G - 91k

After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods.

It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

An Ode to Broken Things by Wizards_Pupil. Complete - NR - 41k

Headed to Greenwood to see the healer Thranduil, Bilbo Baggins and Gandalf the Grey hitch a ride with thirteen dwarves headed to Erebor.

Bilbo had hoped it would be like the adventures he read. That there would be orcs, sword fights, torture, revenge, trolls, chases, or escapes.

He had never expected miracles or true love.

Hand Me Your Hand by Resacon1990. Complete - G - 1.2k

"You touch my hand," he says, surprised at his boldness, "a lot."

"And what of it?" Thorin's voice is quiet, but his eyes are flashing darkly as Bilbo swallows again and gives him a small smile.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ. Complete - M - 62k

After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Roads Paved With Golden Song by drunkonwriting. Incomplete - G - 20k

Bilbo Baggins gains all sorts of unexpected things during the Fell Winter--a shaky accuracy with a bow and arrow, the ability to make a meal with no more than a handful of weeds and some water, the position as the head of his family's household . . .

. . . and an injured dragon left to die in the snows of the Old Forest.

Slapped With the Truth by somanyofthekids. Complete - E - 57k

Bilbo is a (mostly) reformed burglar and a guide with peculiar gifts. When Gandalf arrives with a proposition involving 13 dwarves, a dragon, and a resurrection of those burglary skills, of course he's going to say no.

Shire Treasures by aquileaofthelonelymountain. Complete - M - 7k

When a journey takes him from Erebor to the Blue Mountains, Thorin decides to visit Bilbo. What he doesn’t expect, though, is to become the babysitter for a hobbit boy who sees a lot more than Thorin is willing to admit to himself.

The Handkerchief by MordorIsCalling. Complete - G - 10k

Thorin unclenched his palm and straightened the handkerchief between his hands. It was but a simple thing - just a white cloth with blue flowery patterns at the edges. It was not in the best state, either; it had lost much of its colour and some stains wouldn’t wash off, no matter how hard Thorin tried. Despite his best efforts, it was becoming rather battered indeed.

After all, it had been three years.

The Pursuit of the Whole by AlamoGirl80. Complete - G - 28k

"Love is the pursuit of the whole" - Plato

Some things, Bilbo learned, are simply not meant to be parted.

A case in point.

Alternate Reality AUs

Faunts and Satyrs by HiddenKitty. Complete - G - 63k

In which the Dwarves are Satyrs, because Reasons

I've Grown a Hedge Around My Heart by pibroch. Complete- G - 44k Thorin is a stubborn hobbit!!! :))

"Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs."

Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him.

Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

We Shall Be Monsters by Erinye. Complete - E - 69k Not everyone’s cup of tea, please be warned before reading.

Haunted by the loss of his loved ones and the decline of his family’s fortune, Doctor Thorin Eijkenskialdi conducts unspeakable experiments in the last remaining property of the once formidable Durins’ estate. Rumour has it that he has grown obsessed with the idea of conquering Death, and that he is fostering some great evil behind the high walls of his castle - something he should be afraid of in the first place. Enters one Bilbo Baggins - is it redemption or damnation?

Frankenstein!AU, featuring unhealthy obsessions, a trip too many to the graveyard, gothic romance, and a reasonable amount of screaming.

Modern AUs

In June and June and More June by Dragonslaeyr. Complete-G- 88k

When Bilbo agreed on a trip to Erebor to clear up the last of his mother's estate, what he didn't count on was falling in love with its gorgeous landscape, the fiercely proud people, and yes, the delicious food. Now if only he could figure out why everyone was acting so strangely around his neighbours...

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash. Complete - M - 95k

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

Teach Me Your Ways by airebellah. Complete - G - 63k

Thorin sat in a bookstore reading to his nephews. He struggled to read the foreign English text, but he would do anything to please his nephews. Including humiliating himself in front of a cute man with a small boy of his own.

Thorin Durin, forced from his home in war-torn Erebor, struggles to adapt to England’s language and customs. Bilbo offers to help, and amongst many a cultural confusion, their relationship quickly grows beyond simple language lessons.

What Happens in Gondor by lilithiumwords. Complete - E - 28k

When Professor Bilbo Baggins sent Kíli Vinson's paper home with a bad grade, he never imagined that his relaxing office hours would be interrupted by Kíli's terribly rude uncle.

Whom, incidentally, Bilbo had met before and knew rather, er, intimately. (Or The one night stand that Bilbo will always regret leaving behind.)

#bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #bagginshield #thilbo #fic rec #some of my faves #please read them #someone talk to me about them #I am really into them #and for what #i have more if you're interesteed #a lot more #please be interested

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

She [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: You meet Steve Rogers for an interview but he’s not what you expected.

Note: I’ve been trying to chill the last five days but I obviously got some writing in. It has resulted in this impromptu series and I hope you all like it. It’s looking like it will be about 10 chapters when all is said is done but that being said, I am still working on it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

Your left ankle bent as you leaned heavily on your heel. You stood before the thick walnut door, a round frosted window on its face. The townhouse stuck out on the old Brooklyn row and all knew its resident. It surprised many that he remained in the borough and he was cherished all the more for it. He was the golden boy of New York.

Well, that’s what people like to believe. You weren’t there to paint another flowery picture of the saviour. You were there to speak with the real man behind the plan. There was a story behind Steve Rogers that had yet to be told and when you were selected to tell it, you knew you had to do it right. The task was both daunting and humbling. It could be your big break.

You knocked and adjusted the bag that hung from your shoulder. You didn’t miss the group of kids at the end of the block gathered around for a glimpse of their hero. The door opened and you were greeted by the man himself. He smiled at you as his hand rested on the curled door handle.

“Hi,” He greeted you. “Thanks for coming. It saves me a lot of trouble.”

“Not at all,” You shook his hand.

You’d spoken to him briefly over the phone and negotiated the time and place for your interview. You agreed that him coming to the office would cause too much of a flurry. You were sure he was over that.

“Come in,” He stepped back and waved you through.

He closed the door as you looked around the entryway. A thick banister with the same dark wood as the walls led up to the second level and a finely carved archway peeked through to the next room. It was cozy and a lot quainter than you expected. The exposed brick above the panelling lent it a warmth.

“Shoes?” You stopped by the mat.

“Your call,” He said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers, but I’m fine,” You assured him as you stepped out of your heels. You’d hate to scuff the hardwood. “I’m sure you're just as impatient as me to begin.”

“Steve. And yeah, I suppose. I don’t really do much more than pressers and usually, I don’t do much talking.” He confessed. “Just through here,” He pointed to the front room.

You nodded and stepped through. He directed you to the pair of armchairs before the artificial fireplace and you set your bag down as you sat. He lowered himself across from you as you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and notebook. You swiped up and flicked your finger across the screen.

“Do you mind if I record you? It helps with editing and of course, accuracy,” You said.

He scratched his jaw and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Great,” You hit the red dot and set the phone down on the small table with the mic facing him.

🖋️

You were a bit surprised by how it had all unfolded, but, you supposed, you were right when you said no one was ever exactly what they seemed. Steve was nice enough as he showed you the door but you could see the agitated impatience behind his eyes. You should’ve eased him into it more. Timing was everything.

Even so, you had promised your editor a story and if you didn’t deliver after being chosen for such a coveted one, well, you would never see its likes again.

So you sat at your desk in your small but comfortable city apartment. It was nothing compared to the star-spangled hero’s walk-up but it was home. If you could work the interview the right way, it might mean an upgrade, or at least a television that didn’t flicker.

You hit play on your phone for the third time that night. Steve Rogers’ voice was etched into your brain. And that tension in his forehead, the tic in his jaw. A thinly veiled wrath unexpected of the valiant soldier-turned-saviour. You shivered and paused the recording. It was almost startling how quickly he’d turned on you, but you weren’t entirely innocent.

You stretched your fingers over the keyboard and sighed as you stared at your blinking cursor. You couldn’t just sit on this forever. You had a deadline and an extension was an impossibility, if not a death warrant for your career.

So you hit play and began to type, pausing to play back snippets as you went.

🖋️

‘It’s early afternoon in the heart of Brooklyn. Amidst the old brick buildings that line the cracked sidewalks is a townhouse unlike any other. The home of a man born there over a century ago. A living ghost that haunts the block. Most would say he is a friendly spirit.

Steve Rogers answers the door as a boy lets his baseball roll under a car and his friends lower their mitts to watch. A teen on a bike, a ring in his nose, even slows to admire the hometown hero as he smiles; a beacon of the borough. A glimmer of hope for all to think that the block is not the whole world.

He greets me like an old friend. “Hi.” The same smile seen in newsprint. He thanks me for coming and ushers me inside. This is the first time I’ve met him in person. I can’t lie; I’m intimidated. I’m just another person in debt to this great veteran.

His house isn’t what you would expect from a man as prestigious as him. No medals hanging on the wall, no vainglorious cut-outs of his image, or pictures of him shaking hands with men in suits. Only framed baseball cards along freshly laid wood-panels. It’s like any other house in Brooklyn, just newer. An ancient skeleton revived.

We sit in the front room, he offers me a drink. I’m not very thirsty. I’m more anxious to start talking. I can see he is too though his facade is hard to crack. He tells me to call him Steve as my recitations of ‘Mr. Rogers’ become almost pathetic. We begin.

Interviewer: “Great.” I hit ‘record’. “I’ll start by saying you have a nice place.”

Steve: “Thanks.” He seems to relax as he leans back in the chair which is nearly too narrow for his broad shoulders. “It took a while but I think it’s coming together.”

Interviewer: “Can’t take the boy out of Brooklyn, I guess.”

Steve: “Wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles again, though he never truly looks less than amiable.

I: “Only to save it,”

S: “I do what I can.

I: “More than most; New York, Sekovia, the world. You’ve done it all. Do you ever just take a break?”

S: “I try. And sometimes I get a chance to just… be here.”

He looks around, proud of himself, of his home.

I: “Any hobbies?”

S: “You know, I used to love to draw. Nothing special, you know. But I found it calming. I actually bought a bunch of pencils and a pad but I never touched them. I’m sure they're just sitting up in my closet, neglected.”

I listen intently, imagining this man bent over a notebook. It’s an absurd picture as my mind returns to the man in his cowl with shield in hand. The red, white, and blue bullseye is more suiting in my head than a pen.

I: “Anything else? Anything you actually do?”

S: “I like to run. Helps me get to know my neighbours, reconnect with my roots. I read… a little. I’m still not really into the whole internet thing but I try. I still get the newspaper just to read the strips and fill in the weekly crosswords.”

He confirms my suspicion. A man lost in time, but it seems he has found his place.

I: “A man for all times. And you work? I’m sure you get tired of talking about it but well, there’s been a lot of speculation about a possible retirement.”

He ‘s silent as he looks away and fidgets in his chair. He becomes the rehearsed hero at his podium.

S: “I’d hate to fan that fire but I think it’s only natural to consider it.”

I: “Thinking of settling down?”

S: “It’s always a thought but I’m not stupid. It’s not that simple. I’m not the type of man that gets to settle down.”

This remark might break the heart of every woman in Brooklyn and beyond but it seems to hurt him more. A grim truth for a man who many would say has the world in his hands.

I: “And if you did hang up the shield, is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go?”

S: “I’d like to try fishing. I’ve heard it’s relaxing. I love the city but it’s nice to get away now and then.”

I: “Is there anything keeping you from retiring? Besides the obvious; we all know you’re a good man and a great hero. You’ve shown commitment to the city, the world, humanity.”

He looks to the artificial fireplace and shrugs. He’s thinking; perhaps censoring his response.

I: “Co-workers? The world is well aware of what you did for your old friend. And it has proven to be a point of contention, even after the pardon.”

He clears his throat and he’s no longer smiling.

S: “Bucky is an old friend and a commendable soldier. He does his job well. I wouldn’t take anything back. He has more than earned his place.”

I: “So, if you retired, you believe that he would retain his place among the team?”

He’s frowning now. He adjusts his posture so that he seems even bigger than before. A formidable opponent, if not an overwhelming one.

S: “He is not there because of me. He’s there because of himself. Because he is an asset to the world.”

His blue eyes are darker now. No longer the crystalline waves shining in the sun but those foreboding tides which crash together beneath the moonless sky. My ship has gone awry, carried by an errant wind.

I: “Well, I can’t help but point out that many wouldn’t agree. You put yourself and several of your associates on the line to save him. To bring him into your fold. To place a man who was once a national enemy beside you. I hate to say it but, frankly, even if he were pardoned on his own merit, I fail to imagine him being allowed the same access to confidential intelligence and tasked with the protection of civilian life.”

His hands are fists. I could put up a front and say I’m not nervous, but I am. I have done what I once thought impossible. I have angered Steve Rogers.

S: “He wasn’r Bucky, but he is now and he has been cleared. I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk about me.”

I: “Yes, I am, but the world is well aware of your friendship with Mr. Barnes and all its implications. It is hard to separate him from your life.”

S: “I agreed to talk about me.”

His tone is set in stone. I attempt to stay calm myself.

I: “We are talking about you, but we can move on. Now, even with its dissolution, there are still questions being asked about the Sokovia Accords and your opposition to it. While many can acknowledge the need for your team and their work, they can’t help but wonder at the lack of restraints placed upon it. There are regulations even for the FBI and CIA and other protective services. So why should you be exempt?”

He sniffs and stands up slowly. He retreats behind his chair and nears a table along the wall. He distracts himself with a signed baseball. I don’t have a chance to ask who scribbled along the stitches as he tosses it and finds his voice.

S: “I never disagreed with the sentiment of the Accords. As heroes, of course, we should have obligations. Our first and foremost being the protection of innocent lives. The hardest to uphold but we do it.”

He is ever the statesman but he isn’t finished and his voice gets low. Dangerous, even.

S: “At the same time, we put our own lives on the line and you come here and nag me about formalities? What is it you want? Paperwork? Reports on how I threw my shield to stop a bullet from striking an innocent bystander? How a piece of shrapnel nearly severed my tendon as I threw myself in front of a speeding vehicle?”

I: “With all due respect, I am only asking about transparency. People deserve to know more. They deserve the truth.”

S: “Is that what you’re looking for? The truth? You want to know what we don’t tell you and your readers?”

He puts the baseball down and his hand is on his hip, disapproving. I suspect his lecture will continue. He nears the chair and grips the back of it as he narrows his eyes at me. I fear he might throw it in my direction though for now, I hope it should act as my own shield against him.

S: “About how I have to lie about how many men I lose to keep this world safe. Because I can’t scare the people. Because I have to keep on this mask of the brave hero.”

His eyes go to the ceiling. He takes a breath to calm himself. I can tell he wants to continue. That he is holding back something which has brewed within him for a very long time. It is a moment before he speaks again.

S: “We’re done here. That’s it. Turn your phone off and go.”

The interview is over. What happens next will remain off the record. I leave with a mouth full of bile. My childlike wonder has been extinguished. I came to seek out the man behind the shield and I have done just that, but he is not who I expected.

I was ready for a humble man, a man like any of us; the same wants and desires. Still human despite his enhancements; despite his superhuman status. What I discovered was a man who’s exceptionality has nurtured a sense of entitlement.

And we do owe him our lives, our gratitude, we owe him the world. Yet I cannot dismiss the sense that he might regret his good deeds. That to him, it has become a thankless chore. That we are the needy children and he has been burdened with our cries for help.

So we should not be surprised or upset upon his retirement, not if, but when it comes. And we cannot fault him for his departure. It has been a long-time coming.’

🖋️

You took a breath and sat back in your chair. You rubbed your cheeks as the recording began to repeat itself. You stopped it and checked the time. You’d spend your morning editing and hope you would be ready for submission by the evening.

As you hit save, you felt an odd tremor deep inside. This could be it. Your big story. Or you could be tired and entirely up your own ass. You only hoped it was the former.

🖋️

You sat across from Poppy as she read your article through the glasses which sat low on her long nose. She was just past forty and wouldn’t look it if she didn’t wear the ridiculous half-circle spectacles. She wore a shade of red which paid homage to her name and her lipstick was just as bold. Her long lashes flicked up as she lowered the pages and her blonde hair fell behind her shoulder.

“Well…” She said carefully. “It is…interesting.”

You swallowed nervously as you teetered on the edge of the acrylic seat. Her long manicured nails played with the corner of the article.

“I had initially planned to have this in the back pages. No one really cares about the Avengers anymore.” She said. “But this is… I will discuss it with our marketing team but I know a feature when I see it.”

“A feature?” Your lips parted and you sat back as you gripped the thin arms of the chair.

“Oh, yes,” She said. “Another celebrity break-up is not exactly scandalous and to be frank, I do tire of that ridiculous narrative. But this… you will be hearing from me soon.”

“Uh,” You stood awkwardly at what you were sure was a dismissal. “Thank you.”

“For what? Doing my job? Should I thank you for doing yours?” She countered.

“N-no,” You stuttered.

“Go on then. I’m certain you have other work to do.” She tapped her long nails. “You certainly will once this is ready to print.”

You nodded and left her. She was already on her phone before the door closer behind you and you looked around the blindly bright office. It would be your first feature and it was the first article which had earned you more than a passive grumble from the woman. Perhaps you hadn’t been so foolish to think you had actually done something well.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #fic #mcu #marvel #captain america

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Tarot Reading ➝ What Kind Of Porn Do They Watch? (18+)

↳ NOTE - due to several requests, a steamy and detailed one. ☕️ we’re asking the cards about the erotica they fancy in a wider sense.

warning ⚠️ 18+ // bdsm mentions, worship, kinks left and right. we’re going graphic in all types o’ ways, lads.

♡ DISCLAIMER // tarot is speculative, there is no guarantee for accuracy. believing in the cards is a choice. all portrayals are fictive and for entertainment purposes only.

SPREAD #1:

yoongi

⌈ THE WORLD ⇁ Jesus... Someone’s obsessed with girls in the nude. That card has a stark naked woman wrapped in very little satin on it so you know what our funky little guy is up to. Luscious aesthetic fotos might be just around his corner. Big duh, he’s a photography major. These folks are all about body appreciation. He’s also on a personal vendetta against lingerie 😂 Yoongi won’t get hard looking at even the most HD panty and bra ads. Only the skin in its full splendor will do, no editing. He loves pictures of nipples peaking through shirt fabric, it’s all over his phone. Yoongi likes his gals without underwear 24/7 just like he dislikes underwear himself. If we’re talking porn, the woman on the card is holding two very long rods so may I connect the dots: Threesomes, handjobs, blowbangs, spitroasting. Friction, friction, and more friction. To Yoongi’s brain, handjobs are a great um new version of holding hands. Sex standing up also, keeping it vertical. Yoongi doesn’t care about girth, inches count. Nice and elongated with a perfect plunge, something to hold onto. Yep, he’s pretty deliberate when searching that up. Yes, he loves the look of it. However, and you’ll be surprised: Even if he likes poly porn, it’s still nothing too extreme. This card is more about pleasure than pain. If a guy likes rough and degrading sex, you get swords and wands in his spread. THE WORLD is more about perfected skills and success. So, he likes the more accomplished porn stars. With a preference for curly blondes and redheads, that’s sort of the hair color on the card. Natural B or C cup. Medium height, not too curvy. Oversized booty not needed. In terms of nationality: We have three representative animals on the card. Eagle, lion and bull, plus a light blonde man’s head. So, anything that America/Germany/Albania/Mexico/Namibia (and so on, lot of countries with eagles as their national bird my dude), England, Spain and Scandinavia have to offer. Honey sugar is going international, baby.

hoseok

⌈ QUEEN OF WANDS ⇁ Did I just mention that guys who like rough sex in porn get wand cards in their readings in Yoongi’s segment? Well, there we have our candidate, with a very obvious card since it’s a court figure. Now, the thing is, this is not the guy being rough. The QUEEN OF WANDS is as notoriously femdom as can be. The very fiery and raw and fun version. So, with a degree of lightheartedness, but still being very fit — even buff — and hands-on with the sub. If you get the QUEEN OF SWORDS, that’s the more cool and calculated domme who signs you up for torture and humiliation, and she really looks like a domme. She’s all over the internet because she has the grit. Now wands combined with a tarot queen... it’s more about the stamina and she is approachable. Hobi does not like watching cruel girls, he likes challenging ones. Upbeat porn stars who can take a lot but most importantly dole it out assertively like pros are Hobi’s schtick. He’s unapologetic about that. With him it’s like, please not the local newcomers that turned legal a month ago. The queen cards are all about mature women. Mommy kink, hint hint. The kind of mommy who’s gonna whip out the spreader bar or cane (= wands again) and give a playful type of punishment. See how desert-like that imagery is, Hobi wants to sweat big time when he gets off to this. Now since wands also make for a damn good pole to dance on, go figure. This whole card has me wondering if, well alright, he is a Cardi B hard stan 😅 If Hobi blasts Money to get in the mood, I’d not be surprised. Anyway. Back to pole stuff: If you go through his youtube search history, you will find astounding things. I think he watches the more professional and athletic performers in competition though. High production value is key. Finally, an interesting card detail: There’s a sunflower on it. This is definitely his kind of tarot imagery.

jimin

⌈ KING OF COINS ⇁ This card always looks like a scene from a medieval movie so you might have an erotic film enthusiast here. The more chaste type of genre, pentacles are very grounded and not hypersexualized. The intimacy is slow and more about security and pleasure. It’s graphic and detailed, but gives you a sense of relaxation. With a bit of romance in the plot, that might absolutely be Jimin’s thing. Castles and wine and nobility. Interesting type of erotica. Historical and classy. As expected of a prince, mind you. He might enjoy books of that genre also. And we know Jimin is an avid reader, right up there with Namjoon. Now, even with more risque and contemporary stuff that he googles up, we have similar dynamics going down on screen. With Hobi we had femdom because it’s a queen card, now with Jimin we get the classic male dom type of porn because that’s how the King usually rolls, unless it’s the KING OF CUPS who’s touchy-feely and subby. Meanwhile, the KING OF COINS is your local sugar daddy. Leaning towards being a soft dom, he’s not aggressive. And Jimin surely has a little crush on that concept. Ye know, if all the other members have female cards and Jimin gets the sugar daddy, we might be dealing with mxm action. Because if this card was a porn star, he’d be a really, really rich producer and a bear who’s done this since the frickin’ 90s. He’s treating his subs very gently and lets them sit on their lap, the imagery is sort of like that because the King is balancing a pentacle on his left thigh. Sex and comfort all in one are life for Jimin. A sexy detail I only noticed at a second glance, the King also has a shortened golden staff with him, which has a rounded tip. If that’s not a butt plug… whenever I see props like that in tarot, I interpret it as a sex toy. So, good vibes in here. And a bunch of aphrodisiacs, the KING OF COINS is a foodie. Which you know, might just be a food porn type of reference. Jimin’s taste in sexy things is quite something else.

jungkook

⌈ THE EMPRESS ⇁ If there’s one thing I like, it’s the Tarot giving me the important archetypes during readings of that kind. The Queens, the Kings, the Major arcana (see Yoongi’s and Jin’s segment). You can really draw a lot of hints out of it. Now with the EMPRESS you have a similar case to Hobi’s, just a lot more softcore. Jungkook has a refined and pretty vast taste in erotica, if not the most refined in Bangtan next to Jimin who likes that kind of dignified touch to it as well as we saw. Jungkook knows his stuff when it comes to searching things up, he is a first class netizen in that regard. In terms of genre: The EMPRESS is your highkey feminist and wholesomeness legend, so — you won’t find any super creepy things in some hidden file on his PC, and things by female producers instead. No slut-shaming or name-calling here, everyone gets their pleasure in their own right. Thanks to online sex ed, Jungkook has a map to the clit and he’s not afraid to use it. He’s the type to watch solo videos ad nauseam. He’s fascinated. Masturbation until it gets all messy with the juices flowing, and you bet he wants to see the girls buzzing themselves off lying on their back. Maybe even outdoors in a field. Cum play is a must, cunnilingus is a must, he loves unprotected sex and creampies, he loves breast massages. And yes. Anything that involves sex with pregnant and chubby women. Similar to Taehyung, it’s all about the focus on the girl, he doesn’t bother much with the guy performers. And given Yoongi’s reading on top of that, we have three members in BTS who are all about worshipping the female body right here, breasts over ass, and he likes blondes, too. The EMPRESS card is like… the entire porn industry who does the MILF and BBW genre is financed by Jeon Jungkook’s website subscriptions. Cue GOT7, with Jungkook it’s girls, girls, girls. The thirst is going strong, and he’s unashamed times ten, sex is sex.

➝ we also have members who don’t really bother with erotica or have a complicated relationship with it.

SPREAD #2

taehyung

⌈ ACE OF WANDS reversed ⇁ He’s not about beating off until the world ends. Taehyung gets bored by porn or heated literature and doesn’t feel very motivated to search it up. He would rather come up with his own ideas to write but doesn’t have the energy. Sex drive: On hold, even if he tries to look something up it doesn’t feel very fulfilling to him. Most of it fails to turn him on, it’s not his kind of taste. He gets frustrated when he masturbates and would rather rest, dream, and doze. The only thing I can see him watch somewhat frequently — hold your horses — is lesbian porn. I’ll explain. The ACE OF WANDS is pretty much your most glaring handjob symbolism card. A hand gripping a stick. Yoongi’s THE WORLD card has very similar imagery, I mean even two wands and a girl, bisexual explosion much. He would be a big fan of the upright ACE OF WANDS card lmao! But the reversal is like, um no silly guys jerking off in here, pls. Keep your cum to yourself. That means: Zero dicks in Taehyung’s zone, girl-on-girl stuff is his very last resort for quality that he is desperate for but cannot find. And not the stuff where the producers just replace the guys with heavy arsenal sex toys, double-ended dildos, fucking machines, endless strap-on action without any clit stimulation on either side and whatnot. Taehyung is like ugh, cherie, why, give me the juicy stuff, give me the basics. What he wants is just pure scissoring, fingering, oral, little gentle bites, a lot of caresses and kisses. And slow, slow sex. Probably the amateur kind. He hates how brutal and exaggerated most things online are. Tae is looking for softness, a lot of lesbian action is what delivers in that regard so he takes all he gets. And it goes further than that, Taehyung knows the finest yuri recommendations, I’m telling you.

seokjin

⌈ THE STAR reverse ⇁ The opposite of Yoongi: not keeping it very naked in here. The upright card shows a nude woman pouring water from two cups. Hence a strong connection to the card of sexuality, TWO OF CUPS. Everything is very gentle and positive in that scenery. But then, the reversed card rather shows us that Jin doesn’t feel too thrilled watching other people film or write or photograph sex. Like in Tae’s case, he becomes bored, it’s all the same to him. Nothing’s ever new to him in porn. He feels negative and guilty rather than refreshed or entertained. He also doesn’t like a lot of kinks that very literally connect to, well, the pouring water. Squirting, cum play, watersports, sex in the pool or showers, lube overuse, creampies, bukkake, fake cum — Jin is rolling his eyes at that, he thinks it’s a circus. He’s surely given it a try, but ended up feeling worse and even more pent-up or dissatisfied. At best, you will find him on unknown websites looking for the most amateur videos there are. Because: THE STAR quite unequivocally hints at porn stars. If you reverse the card, it becomes someone not very well-known. He roots for the underdog. Accordingly, Jin’s reaction to mainstream videos goes this way: ‚Pipe down, you non-artists!’ 😆 Cause maybe, he does do it better aye, without the awkward angles anyway. He doesn’t want the body cult, like, put that airbrush and silicone out of my face bro. Not because he’s against surgery, but the idea behind sexual extremes and the shady high standards. It’s too polished for him to get turned on. And robotic/staged. Likely because he’s had an IRL sexual experience (gasp!) that set a different ideal to him, so the more glossy porn feels off. Home video has all he needs instead. I think it’s especially because you get so see more body hair there. The woman on the THE STAR card is all sleek, so the reversed card is the opposite, Jin wants that unshaved goodness.

namjoon

⌈ EIGHT OF CUPS ⇁ Now you’d think — and I thought, kinda — we’d get the master of erotica right here. And he’s had one hell of a reputation for that. Think of the ever-infamous Yaman TV interview where BTS were super upfront and revealing about their taste and what they watch privately. With especially Namjoon having the lion’s share. But this card says otherwise if his current state is concerned. The EIGHT OF CUPS shows a man wandering off into the night, leaving eight cups behind him. I think what that means is, he’s moved on. Namjoon’s cravings aren’t as strong as they used to be, nor does he have the time. He knows it won’t fix his loneliness or answer the questions of life. He might be on the search for different things to fulfill him, or ignore much of his hormones in favor for his career. Not that he didn’t dabble in it, he sure did, but that chapter is slowly closing and what’s next he doesn’t really know yet. He thinks about family and being a father, so the smaller and more risque pleasures become less significant. Desire, too. Ye olde soul syndrome is kicking in. The card is also centered around introspection, a quest for self, all these higher topics that aren’t the most grounded and don’t leave much space for being horny. Joon is simply to preoccupied and on the move. He sees porn as a distraction from his real self at this point, and he’s not the type to feel satiated after masturbating to something, similar to Jin and Taehyung. Instead, I think he carries that energy elsewhere, hence the wanderer going from A to B onto a mountain. In short, Namjoon naturally grew out of it by becoming more, well: Namjoon. He’s left a lot behind, he’s choosing self-development over temporary fun, and he will ponder a lot on the topic, the hows and whys and whats more often than not. So, he’s passed the baton to Yoongi and Jungkook if you will, and keeps a low profile as of now.

tarot mlist | ko-fi

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for anon:

#bts tarot #bts #bangtan #bts smut #bts tarot reading #tarot #long post

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maddie-kungs-emporium · 3 years ago

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My 10 Favorite TTRPGs (2021)

There’s plenty of amazing tabletop games out there, but I have a few favorites that I absolutely love. The most important are presented below, along with a paragraph of explanation of why I like them. If you have a bit of spare cash burning a hole in your pocket, then hit up Drivethrurpg and find yourself a copy! Before we get started though, here’s a few ground rules. 1. No two from the same system (e.g. I can’t put Mummy: the Curse and Mage: the Awakening on the list even though I dearly want to). This is mostly to prevent one system from being overrepresented (Looking at you, PbtA). By the same token I can’t put multiple editions of the same game or anything like that. 2. None of my own games. Obviously there would be bias there, wouldn’t there? 3. I have to have enough experience with the game to properly rate it. This means I have to have read the game and have a keen understanding of it.

4. This is my personal opinion. No specific criteria are used beyond whether or not I enjoy them. With that being said, let’s start from 10#.

10#: Golden Sky Stories (Star Line Publishing)

This game is on the list because it is one of the most avant-garde games out there, which only makes sense from the philosophy it was created from. If you want a simple game about talking Japanese raccoons you can play with children, check this out. Furthermore, the game is possibly the most peaceful and relaxed from a writing standpoint you can get with any piece of media.

9#: Vampire: the Masquerade (White Wolf But It’s Complicated)

This game is the most personally significant to me on the list. It has serious flaws which prevent it from being any higher, but this game literally saved my life during the darkest periods of when I was young, and I mean that. I don’t actually recommend this to the majority of people, at least not unless you’re already interested, but I could not honestly make a list without it.

8#: Deadball (WM Akers)

This may strike some people as an odd choice, given it is barely a TTRPG and completely flies in the face of many basic game design principles. However, not only does Deadball stretch the limits of both TTRPGs and the game of baseball at the same time, but it does so in a way so simple that even a child can pick it up. If you want a little soothing game to play with your friends and family, it’s definitely one to consider.

7#: Qin: the Warring States (Cubicle 7)

This is one of the few games, which, in my opinion, portrays my Chinese culture in a way that is nuanced and respectful while also doing something different with it. Portraying a criminally underused historical period is one thing, but the accuracy with which they do it is another. Easily the best historical game I’ve ever come across, sorry Ars Magica, Würm and Pendragon!

6#: Flying Circus (Newsstand Press)

There is not a universe in existence where I don’t praise Erika Chappell on one of these. While Flying Circus isn’t as personally significant to me as a lot of the other games on here, it’s mechanics, lore and use of PbtA are some of the best I’ve ever read. Please check if out, you would make me very happy doing so.

5#: Adventures in Middle Earth (Cubicle 7)

From the 5E engine specifically, this game is easily the most mechanically solid I’ve ever seen. While there were other competitors, the reason Adventures in Middle Earth is so high up is because of all the things you could do with Middle Earth, with Tolkien’s incredible imagination, this is one of the far superior uses. I cannot recommend this game enough. Sadly, this is out of print, but it is still occasionally available via humble bundles. If you can find a copy and want to see what 5E’s mechanics can do at their creative peak, get it.

4#: Star Trek Adventures (Modiphius)

Not gonna lie, my enjoyment of 2d20 is hit and miss. I thought it was okay for most things, I didn’t like the Dishonored hack very much, and the Dune hack had good ideas but top-heavy execution, but Star Trek Adventures is easily the best use of this system. Doing the world of Star Trek complete justice, this game combines masterful synergy with the 2d20 engine at its best with an understanding of Star Trek that has yet to be beat.

3#: Tales From the Loop/Things From the Flood (Free League)

If I’m being perfectly honest, I like this better than Kids on Bikes. This game captures the feeling of youth as well as the ideas of teen movies incredibly well, and the Year Zero Engine is one of my favorite systems. Without a doubt, Free League is one the best TTRPG publishers in the business.

2#: Shadow of the Demon Lord (Schwalb Entertainment)

Not only is the closest thing to a perfect 5.5E we’ll ever get, but this game is easily the most mechanically solid on this list. It’s difficult to argue that of all the interpretation of the D20 systems you could come up with that Schwalb’s isn’t one of if not the most captivating. The world of Rûl is excellently done as well, especially considering it wasn’t even intended to be more than a default setting, so go check it out.

1#: Promethean: the Created (Onyx Path)

This is easily the best TTRPG in the history of the industry. Not only does it function as an exploration of the human condition worthy of preservation in the MoMA, but it is mechanically solid with amazing lore and an incredibly meaningful message. This game is one of, if not the, most amazing creative endeavors in any media. Honorable mentions go to Hoodoo Blues (Vajra), Ashen Stars (Pelgrane Press), Legend of the Five Rings (FFG), and Dark Heresy 2E (FFG). Thanks for reading.

#ttrpg #top10

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

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WITCHING HOUR, a sequel.

chapter four: advent

word count: 8.7k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, brief mentions of what could-be prenatal depression. elliot considers the logistics of murder. nothing new.

notes: i am so sorry that this chapter took so long to come around, but i hope it's worth the wait! we're finally getting somewhere with these two dummies, as well as a few little things starting to develop along the way. i'm really pleased with how this chapter finally came out, because it was giving me some trouble to start with, but thankfully i have some wonderful people around to help keep me motivated and not letting me get discouraged!

special thank you to my beta reader, @starcrier, for helping me with the barebones skeleton of this chapter and not letting me get too in my head about it. and a thank you to my loves, @shallow-gravy and @baeogorath, for lending me their eyes as well as i tried to muddle through the parts of this that felt so, so difficult. i adore you all so much!!

Isolde fucking hated Montana.

Maybe “hated” was a bit strong of a term, but all she could feel as she cinched her coat tighter around her and waded through crowds of milling, purposeless passersby in the airport was that she could not wait to leave—and she had only touched down minutes ago.

That she was even here at all was a miracle in and of itself: she didn’t owe John Seed anything. Not a favor, not the time of day, not the firing of her neurons to process her furious disdain for him. If anything, John owed her for up and fucking off for no good reason. If anything, he should be the one doing her a favor. Strapping him to a bed of nails on the hood of a car and watching him suffer while she drove over speed bumps in a mall parking lot during an earthquake would have been a good start.

I need your help, Sol, he’d said, like he didn’t have two fucking hands and eyes and a mediocre brain of his own to get things done.

“Fucker,” Isolde gritted out between her teeth. “Fucking—stupid—fuckface. Fuck I hate him. I hate him.”

But that wasn’t really true, was it? She didn’t hate John, not in the same capacity that she actually hated people, like the ex-husband that so rarely registered in her brain nowadays. For all of his posturing and Napoleon syndrome, John had been her only friend, the only person that she trusted, for a very long time.

Fuck me, she thought, I’m in a bad spot if that’s the case.

It was.

Isolde stepped out of the airport and into the frigid air of the outside pick-up area. Her eyes scanned the area, and while she thought for certain she saw a familiar redhead right away, he was leaned up against a beat-up, mud-splattered truck and surely Jacob Seed did not think he was going to put her in a metal death trap that looked like it wasn’t going to make it five minutes on the highway.

He waved to catch her attention. Isolde stayed firmly put, and she saw—with a little lick of amusement whispering inside of her—Jacob’s teeth flash in a grin.

“Sol,” he called, beginning to saunter over, “I know you can see me.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asked tartly. “I was supposed to be getting picked up by an actual vehicle, not...” She leaned around Jacob’s broad-shouldered figure to peer pointedly at the beater truck, which had not miraculously become better in the last thirty seconds. “...three pieces of metal loosely held together by a shit welding job.”

Jacob’s wolfish smile did not dim. “Good to see you, too.”

“Hello, my darling.” She beckoned him with one hand, giving him a one-armed hug once he was within range. “I suppose you are the transportation John promised, then.”

“None other,” Jacob replied.

“Surely, no expense was spared.”

“Surely.”

Jacob relinquished her of the weight of her suitcase, lifting it with ease and beckoning with a tilt of his head for her to follow. She did, even though her reservations about getting into a fucked up Toyota had not abated; as the eldest Seed brother loaded the suitcase into the back “seat” (being used loosely in this context), Isolde hoisted herself up into the passenger seat.

“Hm,” was what came out of her once she was buckled in, a singular expression of her displeasure, and the redhead settled into the driver’s seat next to her.

He glanced over, his smile having relaxed into something more ambivalent. He said, “I love that you haven’t changed a bit,” and began to pull out of the pick-up lane.

“It is one of my most charming qualities, I think.”

“How did Johnny convince you to come all this way?” he asked, and Isolde stifled a long-suffering sigh that tried to worm its way out of her.

“He told me what helpless idiots you are without him,” she replied. Shrugging out of her jacket, she pushed it into the back seat and turned the heat in the truck down. “Did a whole bit. You would have found it entertaining, I think. It was all Sol, you’re so tall and threatening, please help me. I hate that he knows exactly how I like to be complimented.”

“Well, he’d have to really pull out the stops to get you to come back and help Joseph,” Jacob acquiesced, with the same kind of visceral, gut-punch perception he had always operated and which Soli had expected and still hoped he wouldn’t apply.

Isolde’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Fuck you, she thought, but there was no venom, because he wasn’t wrong. She wouldn’t have come back if John hadn’t really tried, if he hadn’t made it obvious that he was desperate. It did bother her, a little, to see John like that—haphazard and urgent, scrabbling for a foothold wherever he could get one. She just hoped he wasn’t overshooting his shot with the mother of his unborn child.

“Yeah,” Sol said after a moment, “I guess he did.”

Jacob gave her a look. It was a look that said, come on now, Sol, because if there was one unfortunate thing about having dated Joseph Seed and worked with the baby brother for years on end, it was that Jacob—arguably the most perceptive and intelligent of the whole brood—had come to understand her quite well. So annoying.

“I’m glad you’re here,” is what he said after a minute. “Be nice to have a fresh face around, all things considered.”

“You mean all the killing.” Her words came out clipped, but if Jacob felt any particular way about it, it didn’t show on his face.

“Well,” he acquiesced, and that was all that came out of his mouth for at least two heartbeats.

Isolde narrowed her eyes, watching the redhead move methodically as he hit cruise control and settled back against his seat a bit.

She prompted, tightly, “Well?”

“Don’t give me that, Sol,” he cautioned her. “You can use that tone on Johnny and Joseph, but you can’t use it on me. We neither fuck nor run a business together.”

“I remember now why you’re unbearable. How silly of me, to have forgotten.”

“I was going to say,” Jacob continued, as though she had not spoken at all, “that the killing really shouldn’t be a point of contention for you.”

And then, with the kind of spiteful accuracy that she truly detested: “Of all people.”

Shut up. The words sat there, on the tip of her tongue, threatening. Only Jacob would get away speaking to her like this. She supposed that made them hearty exceptions for each other, didn’t it? All the same, the things that she had done—or rather, the things that Joseph had done, for her —were in the past, and long-since buried. Literally and figuratively.

“Here I was, thinking you were my favorite,” she replied primly, and this elicited a laugh out of Jacob, short and barked out but nonetheless genuine. “Tell me you didn’t volunteer to pick me up just so you could start a fight with me. Is it that boring, out there in God’s Country?”

“I never said I volunteered.”

“But you did,” she countered, “didn’t you?”

Jacob glanced at her, then focused his gaze back on the road. “God’s Country is pretty boring, right about now. But there’s been a bit of excitement.”

“Ah, yes,” she replied, foregoing her irritation with his little jab. “Why don’t we compare what John told me with the truth, then?”

“Sounds like a fun game to pass the time.”

Isolde had the feeling they’d at least have a lot to fill the time, at any rate.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Eden’s Gate was not what she had anticipated.

The cult aspect—that was one thing. She could deal with a cult. She could deal with two cults, even, which if what Jacob told her was accurate—and she assumed that it was, because he had no motive to lie to her—sounded like it was actively happening, or had just finished happening.

The compound’s yard looked like a graveyard. As the truck, guided by Jacob’s hands on the steering wheel, rolled in, Isolde took a moment to sweep her eyes over everything as meticulously as possible. Small, meek buildings, the white wiring of a long trellis stretching over the yard, and—blood. Splattered across some of the buildings. Sins in their most classical names, graffitied here and there.

It was dirty. Nothing looked well-insulated. The media would absolutely have had a fucking field day with this. What few people she saw out and about, milling around and regarding the truck’s arrival with quiet, venomous curiosity, might as well have been plucked straight out of the homeless shelter.

When Joseph had told her what his plans were, when he had started dropping tiny scraps of information—because he wanted her to ask for more, wanted to pique her interest—he had never told her it would be...Well.

This.

“This is a fucking joke,” Isolde said, without thinking, turning to look at Jacob. The redhead regarded her with an even-keel gaze, putting the truck in park and tilting his chin, almost defiantly.

“What is?” he asked, and it was sort of there—a tiny, tiny little threat. A demand. What’s funny, Isolde? What do you think is a joke? Surely, the eldest Seed had regarded many defectors and insurgents with the same kind of look. Surely, she knew, he was waiting for her to say something that would make her regret having voiced her opinion.

Purposefully, Isolde replied, “This place.” When Jacob exhaled out of his nose, sharp and impatient, she watched the muscle of his jaw flex, his teeth clenching; before he could open his mouth, she plunged on, “Jacob, you’re not a fucking idiot.”

“Thank you,” Jacob snipped, not sounding very grateful at all.

“The media would lose their fucking shit over this place. It would be a madhouse .”

The redhead sucked his teeth. “You really aren’t getting it, aren’t you?” he asked after a moment of silence had lapsed between them. “There won’t be any fuckin’ media, Isolde. Not if Joseph’s right. And he’s been right about everything else. There won’t be fuck all left to care about beyond your own life.”

“Yeah, except I have to care about them like they’re going to be here!” Isolde snapped. “That’s the whole reason I’m here, you know. In case. John sent me to do damage control because he knows you and Joseph are so tunnel-vision you don’t have any kind of back-up plan.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s funny. A back-up plan, for the collapse of the world as we know it.”

“Finally,” she bit out, “you get my sense of humor.” She grabbed the handle of the door, but before she opened it, she said, “ If Joseph’s right.”

Jacob stilled beside her, head cocked as though he were really listening to her, taking in her words. “What?”

“You said,” Isolde replied tartly, “ if Joseph’s right.”

She turned her head to look at him, trying to discern anything in his expression that might have let her glean some insight on where it was that Jacob really stood. Of all of the Seed children, he had always struck her as the least fanatical—devoted, surely. Structured and disciplined and rigorous and devoted, yes. But not in the way that John had been about Joseph, and maybe was still.

Of course, she saw nothing that indicated Jacob was going to bite the bait.

“Just remember,” Isolde told him, pushing the passenger door open and feeling the bite of winter dig straight into her bones, “ you said that, not me.”

She slid out of the passenger seat, grabbing her suitcase from the back seat and hauling it out. Jacob sighed from the front seat, passing a hand over his face before he climbed out of the driver’s seat and came around the front, stilling her hands over the handle of her suitcase.

“Joseph doesn’t know you’re here,” he told her, glossing over her little barb as though it had never happened. He disengaged her suitcase from the back of the truck with ease, lifting it over her head and keeping it out of the snow. “Just as a heads up.”

“He doesn’t—?” She felt the incredulous spike in her voice. “Bloody fucking hell, did you not tell him?”

“Why would I?” the redhead replied idly, beginning to walk toward the chapel without waiting for her. The implication lay there— why would I, when it’s so much more interesting to have not? —reminding Isolde that in many ways, Jacob Seed was still a Big Brother that did not so often enjoy bending to the will and request of his younger sibling.

She picked her way across the yard, stomping the snow off of her shoes before she stepped into the chapel that Jacob had disappeared into. It was empty, and dark; a heater ran, fruitless and futile, in the far corner. That’s going to change, she thought tiredly. I won’t be losing my fingers for this shithole.

“Look who I found at the airport,” Jacob announced to the figure standing at the front of the church. Isolde felt her insides twist with a strange kind of dreadful anticipation, because the second the figure turned around, she recognized him immediately. Even dimly backlit by the cold winter light filtering through the symbol carved out of the front of the chapel, even after so much time apart. Of course, she thought, she would have recognized him anywhere.

Joseph said, “Isolde,” like he wasn’t at all surprised to find her there.

“Hello, Joseph,” she greeted, managing to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “I’ve only just learned John did not choose to inform you of my impending arrival.” And apparently, neither did God.

“No,” the man agreed. He was bundled up in a dark-colored sweater, high-necked, the hair pulled back from his face. “But I haven’t spoken to John recently. And what did he send you for?”

Isolde blinked at him, brows lifting on her face. “Pardon?”

“What purpose?” he reiterated. “To what end?”

It was so completely and utterly dismissive that Isolde thought she had hallucinated Joseph’s blatant disrespect. The Joseph she had known had, at least, more grace and tact when it came to being a thoughtless bastard.

“To what—?” Fuck you fuck you fuck you, that vicious, still-wounded thing inside of her whispered, furious. Fuck you, you stupid smug fucker, fuck you so fucking hard. To what end? He couldn’t have possibly descended into sheer stupidity as well as delusional grandeur, could he have?

Jacob said, almost in an effort to mediate, “Johnny thought we could use the support.”

“To what end?” Soli demanded, incredulous. “You’ve got half of Montana’s homeless population dragging their emaciated corpses through the snow outside, Joseph. What ‘purpose’ do you think I’m here for?”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. His expression remained serene otherwise, no flex of irritated muscle that she could see. He’d always been nearly impossible for her to read—plenty of times she’d said things just to push his buttons, just to see him flinch, just to see what he’d do. It had both pleased and infuriated him, then.

Now, she hoped only for the latter.

“You’re here for PR, then,” is what he said, at last. “A fall-back. Because John has doubts.”

“Taking one quick look at your congregation, I can see why.”

“Faith and devotion are not always the easiest routes,” Joseph replied, lifting his chin in a tiny spark of defiance. “And they are. Devoted.”

“They are,” Isolde said tightly, “ filthy, Joseph.”

There was a tiny, almost imperceptible click, and she realized with a sense of satisfaction that it was Joseph’s molars, setting and grinding together. The moment stretched between the two of them like that, drawn tight and tense by her blatant disdain and Joseph’s refusal to acknowledge that they probably needed her, and finally Jacob cleared his throat.

“So glad,” he said lightly, rubbing his hands together. “So glad to have you back around, Sol. Why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying?”

Isolde sucked her teeth. “Fine,” she replied tartly. “And it ought to have a better fucking heater than this.”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

As Jacob swung her suitcase over his shoulder, heading for the door that led out through the back of the chapel, Isolde cinched her coat tight around her waist and followed.

“Soli,” Joseph said, the utterance of a nickname so few had ever been allowed to use for her grinding her movements to a halt. She took in a short, sharp breath through her nose, turning to look at the man over her shoulder.

He was regarding her curiously, his eyes taking a relaxed, leisurely sweep over her despite the unpleasant interaction they had just endured.

“What, Joseph?” she asked, her words coming out short and biting.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” The corner of his mouth ticked upward. “I’m glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t what she had expected or anticipated. Even in a perfect world where they were absolutely cordial with each other, she would haven’t expected this. The whole thing had to be some kind of game: already, the mental chess game had begun, and she had been caught lagging unpleasantly behind on the first move.

So she said, “Good,” and turned back around, marching devoutly after Jacob.

“You should be.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He had been this close.

John hadn’t intended on being as loud as he was, when he got out of his car. But the sight of Elliot wandering out of her front door, barefoot and in nothing but shorts and t-shirt, had inspired quite a bit of concern; he’d still waited, watching her. Watching her walk out to the fence that he knew led out to the pastures and eventually the woods, and then stood there.

Much like the other night, she only stood. He couldn’t see her do anything except be there—standing, watching the woods, her face relaxed and serene.

It filled him with the same kind of dread it had when he’d seen her do it through the windows, standing at the top of the stairs with her face lax and her eyes open. Seeing it again, he was now more certain than ever it was a recent development, and that she had not been sleep-walking back in Hope County; at the very least, not when he had been around her.

And red. Her hair was so red—the same kind of coppery-ginger that he’d seen the man in their family photos sporting, the man who had been entirely absent from any other photos past what seemed to be the age of eight. Her hair was so red, and so long, sprawling down to her shoulder blades and sweeping across the thin white cotton of her sleep shirt.

When ten minutes passed and he saw no change, he thought, that just won’t fucking do, and opened the car door, shutting it behind him with a new sense of urgency. He hadn’t wanted to get her like this when something was so clearly unsettling her, but if that’s what it had to be, then—

But the front door of her house opened, and he heard the woman that he thought had to be Elliot’s mother calling for her, and he’d stopped himself. It would have been worse if he’d been halfway down the drive to her, but this far away he could duck behind the Honda he’d been calling his home and act like he hadn’t gotten out at all.

Somewhere down the street—down in the far end of the widely-spaced row of old money houses—the sound of a car starting and pulling away echoed.

It could have been nothing, he thought. It could have been, but what if it wasn’t?

What if it wasn’t nothing?

John listened to the sound of Elliot muddle through a response to her mother, words slurring tiredly as she stepped through the snow. It wasn’t until he heard the front door of the house close and the voices fade out of existence that he finally allowed himself to climb back into his car, turning the key in the ignition and cranking the heat up.

He had been this close to her. As he sat in his car, listening to the heat tick against the cold metal of the engine, John thought that maybe he would not be able to be as careful as he would have liked with this whole thing. Time was rapidly running out, and things were only going to get worse the longer he spent dallying.

Besides—if memory served him correctly, Elliot had always slept better with him there. Even if it wasn’t the most ideal reunion he could have pictured, he thought it was as close as he was going to get.

It certainly wasn’t how he anticipated meeting his mother-in-law, at any rate.

In the console, the rattling vibration of plastic on plastic broke him out of his thoughts. John fished around absently, eyes burning with exhaustion, until he could pull the cell phone out and regard the unregistered number for a moment. It had to be either Jacob or Joseph, given they were the only ones who had access to this phone number, but that thought was oddly uncomfortable.

He hit the green accept button, clearing his throat. “Hello?”

“John. How are you doing?”

It was Joseph’s voice, familiar but altogether strange, too. They hadn’t spoken before he’d left the compound, and Hope County—in part because Joseph had been deep in his singular loneliness, convening with God, and in part because John had not wanted to think about the conversation they would have had regarding bringing Elliot back. There was too much there to unpack, really; Joseph’s dislike (hatred?) of what she had done was abundantly clear, but his elder brother couldn’t find it in himself to deny, either, the importance of returning her back to the fold.

“I’m alright,” John replied, cautiously. He thought about whether or not to mention Elliot’s sleepwalking, and then decided against it. “How are things at the compound?”

“They’re good.” There was a pause. “You sent Isolde here.”

It was a statement, not a question. John pressed his mouth into a thin line. He wondered if Isolde had been polite—and then reminded himself that it was Isolde, and no amount of bad blood or past history would ever get her to shut up.

So he said, “She’s the next best thing, after me.”

“I see.” Joseph seemed to want to say something else, his voice lingering absently on the other end of their phone call: but if he was going to say what it was, he didn’t make any move to, and John felt that nervous, anxious energy pushing up high in his throat.

“It’s important to me,” John managed out after a minute, “that you and the others are well taken care of while I’m here dealing with…”

“Our wayward lamb.”

The tightness in Joseph’s voice was not lost on John, and he cleared his throat.

“Right. But I’m going to be—touching base with her soon, and we’ll be back on the road in no time.”

Touching base didn’t sound quite right. It didn’t feel quite as momentous as it was going to feel, he thought—but making contact also didn’t hit the same. It was going to be near-disastrous, he was sure, no matter how he went about it.

At first, anyway. And then she would understand, of course, that everything he had done had been for them; everything had been done for her sake, for her future with him, and she would finally, finally be fucking grateful.

“See that you do, and are,” Joseph said after a minute. “We need our brother here, John. You, and our sister and nephew.”

Our sister, Joseph said. Something about that didn’t feel good at all, John thought, but he swallowed back the uneasy bile in his throat.

“Of course,” he replied after a moment. “I understand completely.”

“Goodnight, John.”

The call clicked off before John could even open his mouth to reply, leaving him with only the dead air and the stifling silence of steady snowfall around him.

Good night indeed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Elliot awoke that morning, it was to the sound of conversation downstairs and Boomer’s frantic barking.

She struggled out of bed, eyes blurry from exhaustion. Her body ached, dull and faintly reminiscent of her late-night jaunt out into the snow; she pushed the door open, only for Boomer to instantly race down the stairs.

“Elliot,” her mother called, her voice pitching high with frustration, “ please come control your beast.”

Boomer was barking mad. He was barking angry, the kind of vicious alert noise he made when he saw someone he did not like. Elliot barely managed to collect herself to get down the stairs to apologize profusely to whoever it was her hound was currently yelling at when she stopped short at the end of the stairs.

It was John. John, sitting on her couch. John, coming to a stand when she came down the stairs. John, hair tousled out from its normally perfectly-gelled slick-back style, John in street clothes, John John John existing in her space and breathing her air and flashing her a stupid smile that she wanted to immediately punch in.

Her brain fizzed and sputtered to a stop. She had thought, should this moment ever come, that she would feel scared. Panicked. But she didn’t feel any of those things. She only felt—

Furious.

The kind of strange, quiet fury that arrived like death, sudden and violent and crashing over her in waves until all she could think about was getting her hands around John’s throat.

She was vividly, ferociously reminded of the drag of John’s finger along her sternum. Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

It felt something close to nirvana, though, in a strange, intoxicating way. All this time she had spent being worried that someone was hunting her, someone like Burke—desperate to Do Right by the law—or maybe even the Seeds themselves, because some kind of cosmic force had been on their side for reasons even she couldn’t formulate. But now?

Now, the man who had been the apex predator, the man who had dragged her through a drug-riddled nightmare, the man who had lied and lied and lied endlessly, ceaselessly, who had

(I love you, Elliot)

pretended to give a shit about the things that she wanted, was here.

Within reach.

It was a different kind of adrenaline rush, one that she hadn’t realized she had missed until her attention had zeroed in directly on John and the imminent threat that he posed. The things he could tell her mother, the things she had worked so hard to keep at bay and far behind her—John was the manifestation of all of those things, and she was fucking mad.

“Elliot,” her mother said, breaking her from the strange, dreamlike haze her fury had plunged her into, “John tells me that he’s your...”

And then Scarlet’s voice trailed off.

“What?” Elliot bit out, crushing the bones of the words between her teeth. “ John says he’s my what, mother?”

John exhaled through his mouth. There was an infuriatingly charming smile planted on his face, but if she looked close enough, she could see lines of tension there, too; she wondered if he’d really thought her mother would be a safer bet than her. “Ell,” he began, the nickname grinding Elliot’s good nature to a halt, “I think it’s important that we—”

But before he could finish his thought, Elliot interjected, “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. ”

Boomer’s barking had dwindled into low, threatening growls, his hackles fully raised like little pin needles along his spine. He was laser-focused on John, with one ear cocked in her direction, waiting. On the couch, John shifted uncomfortably.

“Bunny,” her mother said, her voice tight and her mouth set in a prim line at the expletive she’d just barked out, “tell the hound to be quiet.”

“Sit,” Elliot ordered, which did not equate to quiet, but which Boomer obeyed anyway. She thought maybe she would have been more stressed about it if she were not fully confident in her ability to heel him, should the need arise.

“I only wanted,” John tried again, raising his hands like he was trying not to spook a wild bronco, “for us to have a moment—”

“It’s nice to want things,” she bit out viciously. “There are a lot of things I want, too.”

Her mother came to a stand, clearing her throat and instantly drawing their eyes.

“Mr. Seed,” Scarlet said, her voice mild, “please take a seat. You’re raising my blood pressure, looming in my vision like that.”

John took in a breath and then re-seated himself, planting a smile on his face. “John is fine, Mrs. Honeysett.”

Her mother gave him a scathing once-over before she said, very pointedly, “Mr. Seed tells me he is your husband.”

It might as well have been a slap to the face. Elliot was viciously reminded of their last interaction—the threat of murder, the oh-so-satisfying sting of her palm connecting with his face. The last well-and-true violation John had committed against their wobbly, new-born trust.

Her stomach lurched. The kind of nausea that came with rage welled up inside of her, and she blinked furiously, wishing for once that the adrenaline did not make her so very focused and hyper-aware and instead that she could actively choose to check-out of reality.

“He’s a fucking liar,” was what ended up coming out of her mouth, because it wasn’t incriminating either way. John Seed was a liar. A deceiver. And while they might —maybe, tenuously, questionably—be married in the eyes of the law (something which Elliot could, unfortunately, not prove one way or the other), that didn’t mean fuck all.

“At the very least, you won’t be having a baby out of wedlock,” her mother continued, her voice tight with some unreadable emotion that implied she was not pleased by this development at all. She was eyeing Elliot, studying her, and for once a scolding for her poor language did not ensue. “I imagine you’ll want a moment to discuss in private what our next steps are.”

There are no next steps, Elliot thought viciously, loosening the vice-clench of her hands and feeling the blood come rushing, stinging back into her palms. She watched the corner of John’s mouth tick upward, amused; infuriatingly handsome, per usual, so much so that she wanted to just punch his fucking teeth in. There are no next steps for John Seed, not with me.

“Yeah,” she said finally, eyes narrowing, gritting the words out between her teeth. “I would love to have a moment alone with John.”

The casual smile on John’s face downturned, just a little. It was the kind of uneasy expression that came with getting what he wanted so easily, too easily, that he didn’t know if it was really what he wanted anymore. Good. She wanted him to squirm.

“I’ll be upstairs,” Scarlet replied, sweeping past her. “And you just call if you need me, bunny.”

Elliot made a small noise of agreement. The tense, drawn line of her mother’s shoulders implied a distinct dislike, and she could already feel the judgments welling up—things that John would certainly deserve. Things that her mother would wait to slip into idle, polite conversation, if it ever got to that point. Which she would do her fucking damnedest to make sure that it didn’t.

As soon as her mother had drifted wraithlike up the stairs, a moment of silence stretched between them. John came to a stand, keeping his hands up and in plain view as he took a few steps forward, inspiring in Boomer a few short, vicious barks that reminded him their friendship had been temporary and fleeting.

“Ell,” John began, “I know that you’re—”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He exhaled, once, out of his nose. “ Elliot,” he tried again, “a lot of things were said—”

Elliot felt the anger spike in her violently. “Oh, were there?”

“My God, are you going to let me finish a sentence?”

“I should rip your fucking tongue out of your mouth, you lying rat,” Elliot snapped viciously. “What are you doing here? Why are you here? How did you fucking—how are the police not—the government —”

John flashed her a half-cocked smile that she was sure had inspired homicidal tendencies before, and would do so again. “Are you really that surprised they weren’t able to keep us?”

“This is not the fucking time,” she hissed, pitching her voice low, “to be playing games with me, John Seed.”

“No game,” he promised as he mimicked her volume. “We found a way out. I’m presuming, not unlike the same strategy with which you found a way out, isn’t that right?”

She felt her teeth clench. Of course he fucking knows, something inside of her whispered viciously. Of course he knows, he’s not stupid about things like that. Just everything else.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said finally. “You have no way of knowing that Burke didn’t send me off to a therapist and let me go.”

“Sure, Elliot,” John murmured, his voice slick, “Cameron Burke, U.S. Federal Marshal, shipped you off to a therapist who found out you were perfectly well-adjusted after caving a man’s face in with a blunt object and now you’re here, living in bumfuck nowhere Georgia. How’s mama Honeysett feel about that, anyway?” He tilted his chin, eyes sly. “About all the killing—”

She swung without thinking. It was a knee-jerk reaction, no thought and no pre-meditation, only pure and unadulterated gut-instinct to impact her fist with his face. Unfortunately, John seemed to have been prepared for it, and stepped back just in time, catching her wrist.

“I’m a quick study,” John murmured, his voice pitching low into a threat, “and I’m not interested in losing any teeth.”

“Brave of you to put your hand so close to my face,” Elliot snapped in a hiss. She jerked her wrist out of his grip like it had burned her, and it might as well have—the contact of skin, not unlike the ways John had touched and grabbed her before, when he’d had a right to.

Regarding her warily, he dropped his hand to his side. “You ran away with our baby.”

“I would hardly call leaving you to your own devices as I made a leisurely departure with government officials ‘running away’.”

“You ran away with our baby,” he repeated, cocking his head to the side. “I think the exact words were ‘you should have considered that before you fucking came inside me, you cunt’.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. She was trying not to smile, because despite the absolute absurdity of the situation—the punch of those words still felt satisfying, in a strange, twisted way. Even though it was for that exact reason that she found herself in this situation now: pregnant, and struggling to feel like she was really that, like she was anything more than a temporary vessel for the baby who didn’t quite feel real to her yet.

John’s eyes flickered. “Find that amusing?”

“Yeah,” she replied sharply, “I think it’s some of my best work. Short of slapping you in the face. I do wish I’d made it a closed-fist punch, if I’m being honest.”

He seemed pleased at that, as though the reminder of her Wrath was a comforting familiarity, and she wished she hadn’t fallen so easily back into their old cadence. Steeling herself, she said, “You need to leave.”

“I think I’m exactly where I need to be,” John assured her. “With my unborn child, and my wife —”

“Don’t you fucking—”

“—and my mother-in-law,” he finished demurely, “who surely knows everything about what we’ve been up to these last few weeks. Doesn’t she?”

Elliot stared at him. No was the correct and truthful answer. No, her mother did not know what had been happening these last few weeks, was blissfully unaware of the extent of Eden’s Gate and their evil as well as the things that Elliot herself had done. If her mother had known what she’d done—if her mother had known the things John had done—she would have been horrified. Disgusted. Repulsed.

I’m it for you, John had said, and

(maybe that was true, maybe he was the only person who would ever be able to get her, accept her, love her)

fuck him for saying so.

“The irony of you threatening me with pure honesty isn’t lost on me. And I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish,” Elliot said sourly, after a moment. “Blackmail isn’t exactly the way to a girl’s heart, and certainly doesn’t convince me of your qualifications as a father.”

“Desperate times,” John allowed, tilting his chin up playfully, “desperate measures. And it isn’t blackmailing, per se. You could have just as easily told your mother everything that had happened and I’d have nothing working in my favor.”

But of course, he had known her better than that. John had seen the way killing Kian had affected her, the way it affected her when she was faced with the mountain of bodies she had left behind her, the shame and disconcertion at finding something wretched and wrathful inside of herself and liking it.

So he hadn’t gambled at all, really, and she supposed that she wasn’t that surprised.

He paused, studying her for a moment, before he added, “Not to mention, you are carrying my baby.”

My baby, something hissed inside of Elliot, wretched and protective, something that had otherwise been dormant inside of her up until now; not your baby, my baby.

“All I want,” he continued as he kept his voice low, sauntering closer, trying to do that thing that he did where he crowded up against her and made her brain go fuzzy, “is a chance.”

“Fuck you,” Elliot snapped. “I should have throttled you the second you walked through my fucking door.”

“But you didn’t,” he pointed out. The arrogance bled through and into his voice, bright and sharp. “And you haven’t. And that’s because you lo—”

This time, Elliot’s swing wasn’t anticipated at all, and she landed a sharp, open-palm slap to the side of John’s face. He reached up, working his jaw, his eyes narrowed as that tell-tale anger colored his expression. Good, she thought venomously, watching the red bloom just under his skin, good, I hope it fucking hurts, you stupid fucker.

“Next time you presume to tell me how I feel about you,” she warned, “it will be closed-fist. And I won’t fucking miss.”

John’s eyes flashed with something dangerous and angry. But he said, “I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you,” with no absence of affection-tipped venom.

“Elliot?”

It was Scarlet’s voice, drifting down from the stairs. Elliot gave John one hard, vicious look before she turned to see her mother standing at the landing where the two stairways converged at the top of the main staircase, regarding them with a critical eye.

“Have you sorted it all out?” she asked after a moment. “All of this…business?”

“I’m going to be in town for a while longer,” John said, before Elliot could formulate a response, inspiring in her yet another bout of homicidal rage that she had to quickly reel in. “I’m determined to make this work, no matter how long it takes.” And then, in what he surely thought was a very charming gesture: “I’m very pleased to get to know my mother-in-law a little better, as well.”

“Ah,” Scarlet replied. She then refused to elaborate.

“I hope,” John continued after a moment, “that’s alright with you, Mrs. Honeysett.”

Her brow arched upward, looking between Elliot and John expectantly, making it clear that was all she had to say on that. It was satisfying, to watch her mother operate as she always did without even knowing the true nature of John Seed. It was the least he deserved

“I really think you should just go,” Elliot said tightly as she turned her attention to him. “Back to Hope County, I mean. Your brothers probably need your help.”

“They’re fine,” John said, feigning sweetness despite the red sting of her slap still fresh on his skin and her mother's very apparent disdain, “and nothing is more important to me than you and the baby, Elliot.”

Saccharine and venomous. Fuck, I hate him.

“I’ll get a room in the motel here,” he continued, brightly. “That way we’ll have plenty of time to spend together. Catch up. Has Elliot told you much about Hope County these last few weeks, Mrs. Honeysett?”

"Fine," Elliot bit out, just as her mother cut in, "That won't do at all," and they looked at each other with the same amount of wounded incredulity.

"He'll stay with us." Her mother's voice was decisive. "Not in that run-down motel."

"Mother," Elliot bit out.

"I won't have a man traipsing in and out of my house at all hours of the night, living like some vagabond," Scarlet asserted. "Especially not the father of my grandchild. And you certainly don’t expect me to explain that to people."

Elliot could feel the headache blistering behind her eyes. She didn't even need to look at John to know he was grinning, ear to ear, like a fucking Cheshire Cat. It was the blatant and unimpressive downside to her mother remaining completely in the dark about what had happened in Hope County—and if John had thought he had leverage over her before, he certainly thought so now. There was no way Scarlet would have insisted he stay if she really knew.

This was bad. Devastatingly, infuriatingly, chop-her-hair-off-and-run-away bad. The kind of bad that only happened in horror comedies. Suddenly, she thought that dyeing her hair had been the most reasonable thing to do, and that her margin for acting out had increased exponentially.

"That's so kind of you," John said pleasantly from behind her. "Thank you."

"It is kind of me," was her mother's clipped agreement. "Make sure you move your…" Scarlet gestured vaguely with one elegant hand. "Vehicle behind the garage, Mr. Seed. I do not need my driveway looking like a scrapyard." Her head tilted, eyes narrowed. "Bunny, help me prepare the guest room."

She resisted the urge to sigh, knowing that if there was one thing her mother would not tolerate, it was an insolent child. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Her mother gave the two of them one more leisurely, scathing sweep-over with her eyes, making a noise that bordered skillfully between discontent and acquiescence before she departed up the stairs to leave them alone once again.

“Do we really need separate rooms?” John mused, as though he had not hunted her down five states away and showed up unannounced at her home after systematically lying to her. “I mean—you are carrying my child.”

There it was, that little spark again, pure defiance: my baby, I’m carrying them, you’ve done nothing, like all of a sudden this baby had become more hers than it had ever felt before the second John tried to stake his claim on it. “I’m going to punch your fucking teeth in,” she hissed, “if you don’t get the fuck out of swinging range.”

“I did so miss our rapport.”

“Final warning.”

He flashed her a grin that was all teeth, and she regretted, in fact, having given him a warning at all; it seemed that even though their time together had been short, old habits did die hard.

The brunette swung around on his heel, pulling the keys out of his pocket and sauntering toward the door. He truly did embody the cat that had caught the canary, more so than Elliot would have liked to admit, turning to look at her through playfully narrowed eyes. “In case you were wondering—”

“I’m not.”

“I like the red,” he finished, voice bleeding with self-satisfaction, “bunny.”

It was good, for his sake, that he had waited until he was out of reach to say so.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ That one, Elliot?”

“Mama,” she gritted out, her fingers digging viciously into the fabric of the sheets, “please, I do not want to have this conversation.”

“I just think,” her mother amended curtly as she passed a scathing look over the brunette Elliot was currently considering shoving through the stained glass of the front door, “you could have at least picked the tall one.”

Elliot stared at her mother from across the king-sized guest bed, blinking rapidly. “You mean...Jacob?” Ugh, she thought, remembering the way John’s eldest brother had grinned at her when she’d threatened to kill him and said, yeah, you think you can, little girl? Fucker.

“Is that the redhead?”

“Yes.”

Scarlet nodded sagely. “You have to be mindful of who you pick to build a life with,” her mother intoned dutifully. “Genes, and the like. Both your daddy and I are tall, and you’re so short, honey. You want to set the baby up for success, don’t you?”

“I’m not—” Absurd. Absolutely absurd, this conversation she was having, not only that her mother thought she would just have her fucking pick of Seed brothers to be impregnated by, let alone that she would ever fucking want Jacob Seed that close to her. “I’m not discussing whether or not I’d let Jacob Seed into my bed, mother.”

“Well,” Scarlet replied primly, smoothing out the comforter meticulously with her hand, “John’s quite...alternative, anyway. I just never knew you liked...” Her voice trailed off again, and she gestured vaguely.

Elliot arched a brow at her. “Liked?”

“That,” her mother finished after a moment, and then sighed, like it had been excruciating for her to say so. It wasn’t as though they’d had many heart-to-hearts about what kind of boy Elliot liked, anyway. “You know, the—tattoos. And whatnot.”

“They don’t bother me one way or another, mama.”

“I find your taste in men quite eclectic. What happened to that nice young man you went to high school with? And all of those school dances? He was nice. Didn’t you two work together at the sheriff’s office?”

The last person that Elliot wanted to discuss in terms of a romantic relationship was the one man she’d dated in high school. Staci Pratt had been evacuated with the others, and was hopefully living his life with a steadfast therapist somewhere far from Hope County, just like the rest of the Resistance. She cleared her throat.

“I’m not having a baby with Staci Pratt.”

“I know that.”

“Can we please,” she started, “can we please stop talking about this? I really don’t even want John staying here, but you insisted, and—”

Scarlet crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Well, why not? Don’t you like him? Enough to marry him and have a baby with him, anyway.”

I don’t, that vicious little voice inside of Elliot hissed, I didn’t say yes, I didn’t want to marry him, I don’t think I even want to marry anyone, stop talking about it, please.

It made her sick to her stomach, to think about John being her husband, to think about the fact that she was having his baby, and maybe that was why she hadn’t been able to feel quite so much like herself as of late; maybe that was why she had been feeling so disconnected from the baby, because she hadn’t quite reconciled how they had come to be in the first place.

She hadn’t reconciled that she had been so, so, incredibly, wretchedly stupid.

“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” Scarlet asked after a moment, watching her from across the bed, her mouth turning into a firmer, more deep-set frown. “You seemed awfully unhappy to have him here.”

“We didn’t leave on good terms,” Elliot muttered, clearing her throat and busying herself with pulling pillowcases onto the pillows. Fuck, she couldn’t believe she was doing this. Making up a bed in her guest room for John fucking Seed.

Her mother moved around to the foot of the bed, stepping carefully over Boomer so as not to disturb him where he lay. She paused at the door, just long enough without saying anything to draw Elliot’s attention back to her, before she exhaled softly.

“It’s Christmas next week,” her mother said after moment, completely ruining the illusion she’d had of her mother actually asking her something meaningful. “The perfect time to practice patience.”

Elliot felt her mouth twist viciously, turning away and dropping the pillows on the bed so that her mother wouldn’t see. The last thing she needed to give John Seed was patience. Least of all Christmas-spirit-induced patience. He deserved far, far less, and much worse, than that.

“Don’t forget about your doctor’s appointment,” her mother called as she departed the room, “and hurry down to eat something before you run your beast.”

It was better this way, anyway. To have John here. If he wasn’t in the custody of Federal agents, the next best place he could be was where she could see him—keep tabs on him, keep aware of what kinds of shit he was up to. And maybe he’d get so tired with her mother’s particular brand of vitriol that he’d fucking leave.

I should be so lucky.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What is this?”

Kajsa’s voice broke her out of her reverie. She had been watching the snowfall, flecking against the window in crystalline geometrics, methodical and variable all at the same time—but the surprise peaking in her harbinger’s voice was enough to draw her eyes away.

The heater in the car rattled, straining against the cold temperatures. Kajsa’s dark eyes had narrowed, and when Helmi followed her gaze, it was to the front of the mother’s house. Their little interloper was heading up the front steps, having apparently come from behind the two-story shop and garage to head back inside.

And then he let himself in.

“He is moving quickly, this little snake of ours,” Kajsa murmured, her voice flecked with amusement. “I thought he’d be exercising more caution.”

Helmi made a low noise. This was...displeasing, to say the least. They had been counting on John’s interference being minimal, given that he was away from home and all of his little pets. Apparently, it had only made him more bold.

And that just wouldn’t do at all.

“You will go back,” the black-haired woman beside her announced, decisively.

“What?” Helmi asked, brows furrowing together at the center of her forehead. “Back to Hope County? But—I should be here, with you. My place is—I belong with you. What about...”

Kajsa leaned back against her seat, her eyes never once having left the house. As Helmi’s voice trailed off, unused to presenting distress or dislike of a decision made by her superior, the woman’s jaw worked absently, the brush of her dark, sooty lashes caressing the top of her cheekbones. Singularly devastating and beautiful, as always, though in moments like this Helmi wished it weren’t so distracting.

“I can open our mother to the influence on my own,” she said at last, and finally turned her slate-gray gaze to Helmi. “I want you to return to our family back in Montana. Do whatever you would like, but make sure you are making them sweat. ”

She turned in her seat now, so that they were facing each other, taking Hel’s face in her hands. The pads of Kajsa’s thumbs swept across her cheeks, affectionate.

“Strangle them,” Kajsa murmured. “I want you to be my tourniquet. Stop the bleeding where you can. Tighten so ferociously around those apostates that John Seed will have no choice but to abandon our mother and leave her to me.”

I don’t want to leave, Helmi thought, watching the woman’s dark eyes—so dark, so dark, faded and distant while her pupils ate away at her irises. I don’t want to leave you.

“It is best.” Her voice pitched, soft and low, almost lulling. “For the end. For our winter, Helmi. I do not want you to go, and I will grieve, just like you will.” She tilted her head, drawing Helmi’s eyes to the wisps of dark hair spilling like black moonlight against the porcelain of her throat. “And what do we say to our grief?”

“Sorrow shared,” Helmi whispered, “sorrow halved.”

“That is exactly right.” Kajsa leaned back, the curve of her dark mouth, feline and sharp, wrenching right on Helmi’s resolve. “You will go for me, won’t you?”

I don’t want to, she thought again, the idea of leaving Kajsa alone to sit in the dark, to peel apart the mother’s layers one by one, unthread her, a distressing one. They had never been so far apart. I don’t want to be away from you.

“Helmi.”

“I will,” she managed out at last. “For you.” I would do anything, for you.

Kajsa’s smile widened, razor-sharp.

“And that is why," the woman murmured, "you are perfect to me."

#my writing #fic: witching hour #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #john's impending death is near on the horizon #i can feel it in my bones #far cry 5 fic #fc5 fic #john seed/deputy #fc5 oc #john seed x deputy #poor mans about to get eviscerated by scarlet honeysett #jskjdaskjd

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Eleven)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: gun violence, death, blood, injury

Context: Someone helps (Y/n) out of a sticky situation.

A/N: There is next to no interaction between the reader and the boys in this part, so I apologise, but at least we've got a new character. I hope you all enjoy this!😊💛

Masterlist

The gunshot rings clearly around the parking lot, the sound resonating in the walls, most likely carrying a long way. A cry of pain mingles with it, followed swiftly by a sharp intake of air that chokes off into a gargle as blood fills a wind pipe, a body falling to the floor.

My heart pounds in my ears, breathing coming heavily and unevenly as I open my eyes, my head snapping upright again, confusion rife in my mind. Instantly, I locate the body a few metres from us, blood spilling from a wound in the neck pooling around the limp figure, black-clad SRS Hunters gathering around them to see if there is any chance of revival. In this brief confusion, another gunshot tears the air, a body falling accordingly with a scream of pain, the others becoming more and more disorientated as they begin aiming their weapons around the area, aims unsure as they struggle to locate their targets. Elijah steps away from me to join them, handgun held up at eye level to improve his chances, though his grip is unsteady, clearly shaken.

Suddenly, the gun used to shoot the first two is switched into its automatic mode, bullets pelting the ground around us in a punishing efficiency, hitting more and more of the Hunters, screams soon filling the air as they collapse to their knees, the reek of blood starting to become horribly obvious in the air, the sound most likely drawing unwanted attention to the area. Panicked and confused, I can only watch as my former comrades are shot to pieces with a brutal accuracy, my eyes wide at the sight of them all writhing in agony, my face splattered with their blood, muscles frozen in place as I await the same fate, knowing that I can't move anyway, my knee completely shot out.

To the side, the vampires are forcing themselves to their feet, Dwayne and Paul helping Marko to his feet, shooting me one last look between them before they clear off, running for safety, as they should be. Vaguely, I clock that that will likely be the last time I see them, my mind too preoccupied with the sight of a huge figure emerging from a darkened alley, a smoking assault rifle held in one hand, a shotgun in the other, to care too much about that, terror flooding me.

Pushing myself forwards, I go to stand up, only to yelp in pain as my knee gives out, making me fall onto my face, my hands only just catching me, preventing me from cracking my already bruised head on the pavement, my eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching silhouette, my movements erratic and uncoordinated in my attempts to get away. Breathing heavily, I start to scramble upright, trying to pull myself back and away from the threat, my fingers becoming grazed and shredded from the rough surface beneath them, one of my hands reaching for a gun that has fallen nearby. Stretching out for it, I use all of the strength I can to drag myself closer to it, only to stop when I feel a pair of large hands on my waist flipping me over, grey eyes swiftly finding mine. At the sight of him, I let out a breath, finally taking in his appearance as I relax into his grip.

"Nico!" I gasp out in relief, smiling breathlessly up at the brunette werewolf towering over me.

"(Y/n)." He greets in response, grinning down at me in his usual, crooked way, the muscular man sitting back on his heels. In the harsh light from one streetlamp, his chiselled jaw and prominent brow are emphasised, his grey eyes bright and lively, bulging muscles flexing under his coat as he bends down and picks me up, cradling me bridal-style against his firm chest, the weapons slung over his shoulders as I wrap an arm around his neck. Standing back upright again, the German werewolf carries me away from the wreckage he has created, deftly kicking someone as they make a grab for their gun, sending them flying back from the sheer force of it.

"I didn't think you would actually come." I say to him as we walk, trying to fight off the pain in my body as he slips into the shadows of an alley.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He exclaims, pulling a face of mock offence, "When have I ever left you to fend for yourself?"

"That's not what I meant, Nico, and you know it. I meant that I'm surprised that you came to a town of vampires." I grin, slapping his chest playfully, still a little disorientated after the previous shootout.

"If you can trust them, then I can tolerate them." He shrugs, tightening his grip around me, "I couldn't just let you get killed, and from what I can see, my timing was perfect."

"You've always been one for theatrics." I roll my eyes mockingly.

"I have not! I just know how to make an entrance." He argues back, turning a corner to where a clearly stolen car is waiting, the windows smashed in and the paint scratched and dented.

"That you do." I muse, smiling up at him, glad that my old friend came to my aid.

Nico and I first met when I was on a hunt when I had just graduated into the SRS, a good few years ago now, when I was just sixteen. I was working as an apprentice of sorts, a Cadet as they called it, for one of the crueler sergeants that trained me, and we'd been sent to deal with a coven of necromancers who dealt in human sacrifice. Being the youngest, I wasn't allowed to do much, only wait outside the coven headquarters as the older Hunters went in to deal with the problem, leaving me defenceless and helpless, though I had no idea I was in danger until a knife lodged itself in my lower back, narrowly missing my spinal chord. A necromancer attacked me, nearly killing me until they were interrupted by the sudden onslaught of a snarling wolf the size of a large horse, it's amber eyes blazing in the night as it tore the necromancer to shreds. I remember looking away as their screams died out, only opening my eyes again when I felt a hand on my shoulder, at which point I came face-to-face with a hansome, tall, hugely muscular boy my own age, his grey eyes concerned for me as he offered me his help, knowing that I was injured. At first, I was sceptical, not quite trusting the boy towering over me, every instinct in my body telling me that a werewolf is not the kind of company to keep, but eventually I agreed, but only on the condition that he got dressed again, seeing as he was naked (a person's clothes are destroyed when they transform).

The next time I saw him, he was facing down with a pack of cryptids up on the Canadian border, the werewolf bleeding and injured as he tried to find a way out of the situation. As I was on my first solo hunt, I was able to help, shooting the cryptids as their backs were turned and offering him first aid back at my camp. Finding ourselves in good company with each other, we quickly became friends, often meeting up and helping each other out when necessary, pur friendship remaining a secret for both our sakes, knowing that a revelation of our knowledge of each other could be detrimental to either. As a lone wolf, he often states that he's targeted as an enemy, most werewolves choosing to remain in packs, but I've never met someone who can actually best him. I quickly learnt, however, that his choice of lifestyle was not one he chose: he was born a werewolf in South Germany, on the border between Bavaria and Austria, in the Alps, but was cast out at a young age due to his unnatural body structure and overwhelming strength. He was often on the run, and soon found his way to the west, where he has stayed ever since.

His friendship and trust is the reason I sent him a call for help in the first place.

"What're you thinking about?" The werewolf's voice cuts through my reverie, his eyes boring into me as he carefully starts manouvering me into the car.

"Oh, nothing." I respond, sitting back into my seat as I wait for him to climb into the drivers seat, feeling like I'm ready to pass out.

"You sure?" Nico teases, smirking as he awkwardly folds himself into the seat, starting the car and driving off, heading out of town.

"Very." I yawn, still smiling.

"I'd say you should get some sleep, but I'm not sure how good that will be for you, given that you have been shot." He worries, looking over at me as he pulls onto a deserted street.

"I could really use some, actually. I'm dead on my feet." I admit, stifling another yawn, "I might just risk it."

He hums, whether in disapproval or not is unclear, but says nothing, clearly thinking, for a few seconds.

"I guess I can probably get that sorted whilst you're asleep, but it might be difficult. You wanna risk that?" He offers, turning down another winding, darkened road.

"I think I'll take you up on the offer. Are we leaving town?"

"Yeah, it's for the best."

"Can we stop somewhere first? I need to collect my things."

"Sure, where?"

I look over at him, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"You know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the point?"

Part Twelve

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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period-dramallama · 4 years ago

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Spanish Princess episode 7: the episode that had no right to be as good as it was

Come with meeeeeeeeee and you’ll beeeeeeeeeee in a wooooooooooooooooooorld of English Reformation~

-OK I had a lot of thoughts on how this ep handled Protestantism but the TLDR is: they misunderstood the theology of it, IMHO, but they actually were much more balanced than I was expecting.

-Maybe it’s my bias, but the printing press scenes were awesome.

-the word ‘Protestant’ is being used 30 years too soon- but I get why they’re using it.

-”You’re dead Sassenach” some people have pointed out the guy called that is a Scot but I think the boy’s just using it as an insult and they’re play-fighting so I think he’s pretending his opponent is English Scum just as Hal Stewart’s pretending to be killed

-Accuracy! Thomas More did indeed lead a raid on the Steelyard, IIRC, though again it’s prob happening too soon, and he’s not undersheriff any more. They continue to knit sweaters out of the thread of linear time

-”the answer does not lie in here but in there,” I was highkey worried Henry was going to point at his own testicles.

-Please get Henry a barber. He has superglued a party city wig to his own face.

-”we were going after deer!” he sounds so much like a spoiled child i have to laugh

-the way Georgie says NO i love the inflection so much, I should make it my text alert for my least favourite people.

-”She creates bad humour in our land” “You mean she’s rude about your poetry?” “SO RUDE *sobs*”

-Wolsey has a reputation for relative tolerance and inaction on heresy, but historians seem to be finding that he was more invested in punishing heresy than previous histories and depictions (eg Wolf Hall) have shown. (At least so far as it was his job to do). He’s still hella villainized in this show.

-Allying with Angus? Sounds like Bad Decision #785

-CGI London looks way too big for a city of ~70,000 people

-Lina, I love you, but it has never been safe for a woman to walk around London alone at night. Not in 2020, 1820, or 1520. Especially before the invention of street lamps.

You can tell this episode was written by men

-”an army is for valiant purpose” Oviedo I love you but you’re a soldier, you’ve seen wars fought for political gain and not for moral reasons. Why you only shocked now? You should be more concerned that you’re attacking civilians instead of fellow militarymen.

-”what are you doing in the church?” “bitch i live here”

-”where are your ladies?” good question

-”it’s her own soul she risks, not mine” when you’re so selfish you accidentally become the most religiously tolerant person in the room.

-Wolsey’s face was a joy this episode. I want to make a moodboard of his beautiful sassy faces.

-the way Wolsey said “Thomas...” at More and Maggie looked angry... I think she was thinking “Really? You’re going to steal MY man now?!”

-why’s Henry Pole guarding More?? He’s a baron?? He outranks More??

-”maybe even have some lemon cake” it’s official, Margaret Pole is Sansa Stark

-”bathe me better and I will relax” she is literally a toddler omg

-”I have bathed you for years, no lady could do better” you can say that again, any other lady would have dunked katherine’s head under the water by now

-”to love the king why do you have to hate so many others”

what happened?? the lines?? are so good?? i am SHOOKETH

-shot of the wavering compass...heavy-handed but i loved it

-Ursula geeking out over her garden :’) i get it girl i got into gardening myself this year.

-”my wife is the only sight I care for” *smooch* the second man in England to have rights! Thank god they’re so in love, given the real couple were married for 40 years. (They totally left the room to go make out, didn’t they.)

-Raiders of the Lost Inheritance Deeds

-WHERE ARE THE BOLEYN GIRLS?? THESE ARE STARTING TO BE THE YEARS THEY’RE AT COURT??

-God Stephenie was amazing this episode. I felt her pain, she became such a more well-rounded character, I’m so glad she got to speak her mind to Catherine instead of continuing to simp for her and excuse her behaviour. If she betrays her secret next episode, her character arc will be complete. Also, after whitewashing Isabella’s actions as Gurl Powah, it’s so refreshing to have Lina call out religious persecution of all flavours, not just against Lutherans.

-”my own husband?” Lina...did you just... tell Catherine your husband isn’t Christian? Run?

-My theory was correct! TSP!KOA is indeed trying to be her mother!

-”ugly altar boys” Aardvark is on FIRE this episode. Everyone is bringing their snark game.

-good use of spooky strings

-mention of humours! Accuracy point! Also I’m glad that Katherine hanging out in her nightdress with men was called out for being hella sus in the Tudor worldview.

-the whole torture dungeon reveal reminded me of a similar scene in the 1999 movie Sleepy Hollow, but apart from that, it was perfect. No dialogue, just the camera, the props and Laura, and you tell the whole story with her face. This is why show don’t tell is so important!

-yes i am biased bc i never liked the ship, but the break up scene was great, for both their characters: More’s allowed to explain his worldview and Maggie is able to call him out. Also it answered the question “why Thomas More and not some tutor OC?” I’m not sure the bombshell justifies writing their romance, but at least it explains its existence. At least it built to some Juicy Drama.

-poor Maggie though. The man she wants to sleep with won’t sleep with her, the man who wants to sleep with her she doesn’t want. Then she befriends both of them, only to lose their friendship when one dies of the plague and the other she wishes died of the plague because he’s terrible. Also her cousins keep being executed, her daughter’s terrified, and her son is way too fond of violence. Give the girl a hug.

-”watch your step” yeah we wouldn’t want you to get a splinter on your way to get your head lopped off. That would really suck.

-the way the crowd groaned when henry’s letter was read out... they sounded like football fans when their team misses a goal.

-”Henry” just henry? not henry the king? No “PS: I’m so random lol” “PS: blow a kiss to Wolsey” No “Henry ex-oh-ex-oh-ex-oh”

-the obligatory gross thing obvs is the sideways beheading. His head bounces!

TLDR: By far and away, the best ep in the show so far in my opinion. It almost feels like it’s set in the sixteenth century. The history was still dodgy af, and so was much of the dialogue, but the drama was much more solid and less plot-holey, the pacing was good, and the foolish mistakes of Stafford and Catherine had actual consequences for the plot, the actors knocked it out of the park, some of the lines were accidentally brilliant.

#the spanish princess

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moontheoretist · 3 years ago

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Notes from tie-in MCU comics:

Part 1:

[DISCLAIMER: I was making those notes without actually writing down from which comic they come from, so now I am... well... confused about the proper placement of them, but I tried to discern them anyway.]

CAPTAIN AMERICA THE FIRST AVENGER:

Lol, Zola was developing exo-skeleton looking like Iron Man suit and Vanko's suit in 1934. I kind of think part of Steve's dislike of Iron Man was because of that exo-suit. Also, Steve just saved the guy in a suit.

"The chain is only as strong as its weakest link" said twice to Steve, once by military doctor and second by Schmidt.

Poor Erskine, his family was taken as hostages.

Howards says "carefully open the casing". Steve does smash instead.

Oh no, Red Skull said that weapon can always be taken from you so you have to become the weapon. It echoes the sentiment behind the creation of Iron Man too closely.

Lol, Roosevelt ASKED for Howard PERSONALLY.

"Car is bulletproof!" "and a convertible!" is a funny joke xD

Lol he has bulletproof car because of cigarette's girls angry boyfriends.

Ok, so Howard joined SSR because he HAD BEST FUN IN MONTHS.

Howard has rockets in car and "leaves best toys for himself".

First Steve saves a Nazi from a tank, now he obliterates them with said tank. Pick a side, Steve. I know guy in the armor was helpless, but c'mon. You either don't kill or kill. You cannot just willy nilly choose. BTW does it echo saving Iron Man or smth?

Call back to floating car by a joke about floating tank.

Aw, no, Erskine's family died in concentration camp from typhus. (Those camps were awful, but are not shown in the comics. You better believe that they weren’t very nice places to live even without being overworked and killed by the Nazis).

Oh no, Bucky was nearly killed by SSman! But Howling Commandos stopped him.

Bucky doesn't like his name lol. Also no Jimmy nickname for this guy.

Ok so Howard Stark was based on Hughes and Tony was based on someone Howard hated - Oppenheimer.

Ok, now Phillips made a foreshadowing for Cradle in the AoU. It even looks similar to Project Rebirth.

Oho my theory that Erskine heard Bucky talk to Steve and that doctor knew Steve lied is proved in this comics. They knew, they had a file on him and Erskine just picked him, saving his stupid ass from consequences.

Cap just threw a knife.

IRON MAN 2:

In the comics it looks more as if Obadiah sold Vanko instead of Howard, because Howard looks so surprised at what Vanko did, that it is impossible to assume that he was the one who sent the agents after Vanko. He looks surprised at the whole incident, Vanko betraying him and agents being there to apprehend him. One agent acts as if it was Howard's idea all along, but that line could be also read as just informing a bystander that they will deal with the issue instead.

Tony projected a drone which could clean whole desert full of mines with 100% accuracy and 0% detonation.

Also comics confirm that Tony cannot even have 12h break without Howard coming at him and demanding him to work when he is just a goddamn teenager.

Tony was just fighting for 19h, got a shower and has to go out again.

"If I hear of another innocent being put in a harm's way just to advance some pointless military agenda... there will be consequences" sounds like call back to Hulk.

Hm, Tony made 12 people work on one job? Also Natasha hates being called Nat and she drugged Samantha (the actual PA which applied for Stark Industries) to take her place.

[As of now those comics confirmed to me that Captain America joined army out of selfish reasons and that Tony was overworking himself as Iron Man and when he wasn't he was either partying, probably to relax in that way, or making new tech which saves lives.]

Lol, Coulson was so excited to look for Captain. Nick even made a joke about finding his fav action figure.

Lol, World Security Council wanted to get Tony's weapons and nearly fired Fury for trying to make Avengers.

Fury is like Tony. He hates his superiors. He will do as they say but won't stop doing what he does.

Lol, Fury got a call Tony will be dead and he jumped out of his goddamn bed asap.

Fury was actively stopping Stern from getting Iron Man by scheduling his meeting with Department of Defense "when Stern is busy" xD

Lol Fury says no to Ross before he hears what he wants. This is so funny.

Ok, so Fury got Lithium Dioxide for Tony, asked if it could be made into permanent cure, how sweet of him, but also learned that it could INSTANTLY KILL HIM instead and still made Natasha basically inject Tony with it WITHOUT CONSENT! So I dunno if he really cared about him when he asked about permanent cure or it was just more optimal for his plans. Also he got the cure during Tony's and Rhodey's battle at the mansion, so we cannot say he had a cure and didn't give it right away when he could.

"Don't blow your cover unless Stark is going to kill himself". Hm. So he wants him alive.

And yeah, he ordered Natasha to stick him with lithium dioxide when he distracted him.

Lol, Fury yelled at Coulson for letting Tony leave the mansion xD

THOR??? (I got lost in my notes, I didn’t write which comic was which)

LOL CLINT CANNOT EVEN TAKE VACATION. Also the speed with which he responded to possible alien crashsite, epic. He jumped and went as if it was Christmas, aww Clint.

Why Clint is giving money back to some store which suffered due to their operation? I mean it was nice and all, but who will give the money back to Clint? Fury?

So it was Hawkeye's idea to let Thor loose.

In the meantime Loki was on scene and tried to get Mjolnir but it didn't respond.

AVENGERS PRELUDE:

Oho, poor Fury, didn't sleep in a few days.

Oho, Fury yelled at Natasha.

"Do not let Ross take Banner, dead or alive". How cute of you, Nick, to confirm that you do not care.

Blonsky is suicidal. Going at Hulk and kicking him in the face? That's a death wish.

Ah so Blonsky is enhanced.

Hahaha, joke about lifting a hammer but applied to the Asgardian sentinel, lol.

Ross literally accessed SHIELD databases.

Natasha was raised in Stalingrad lol.

After seeing Hulk, Abomination and The Leader Natasha finally says it is too much to handle for SHIELD.

Oho, so making Tony finish Howard's project was an objective, not saving his life. He wanted it for Tesseract.

I dunno if he is lying or really was doing this whole shit for the Tesseract. Also points for sticking in WSC's face that Ross nearly destroyed New York thanks to them.

Shield has whiplash suit and it's arc reactor!

THEY ACTIVATED THE SENTINEL AND THEN THEY WANT TO DISMANTLE IT AND MAKE DOZENS SMALL ONES!

Huh, implication that Natasha may beat the whole bunker of SHIELD agents up, because they're men, lol.

So Selvig used the element Stark invented to kick-start the Tesseract after all.

"Good for a laugh from time to time" lol. Clint the comedian.

Why that machine holding a Tesseract looks like Arc Reactor?

Huh so Selvig was Loki and he made a comment about Tony being strange for "badassium".

BLACK WIDOW BACKGROUND IN ONE OF THE COMICS, DUNNO WHICH:

Natasha talks about her cover personalities like vtubers about their avatars.

Fjodorov knows something about stolen bootleg technology of Tony Stark which he managed to acquire?

Natasha really likes narrating her story. Time slows when you have a training? Like roller coaster on first ridge?

"With some small regret, I bid farewell to Tatiana. She's outlived her usefulness" thinks Natasha after she took off her wig and no longer plays Tatiana. "If she were real. She'd be dead". "It's nice though, to pretend while it lasts... that I was ever as innocent as her".

Natasha really likes playing those roles.

Haha, Natasha holds one mission over Coulson's head forever even though he never failed as her control again.

"Part of the reason why I am so good at the undercover work is that I actually like being other people. There is a lot I've done that I regret. When I leave that other identity behind, whether I slip out from underneath it voluntarily or it's ripped away from my grasp, it always hits me like a shock. Like being awakened from a deep sleep, back to who I really am". "It's good to be home". Is she speaking about her slip into Black Widow again as home or is she referring to Russia?

Natasha left a guy dangling from a building and said it could be worse, he could be naked.

"Good man" says Natasha as if she was training guys to obey her will.

Oho, Natasha is interested in someone who wants to be her.

Also she is narrating that police in Russia would not suspect Tatiana to be so resourceful.

Natasha wants to save that girl from herself, because nobody did that for her when she was in the same position.

I mean, Natasha killed some people that day already so I don't get the point of her not killing those guys and saying that she changed, when in the club she killed a few of the goons already and later too. Where is the point of her change if she kills anyway? What is this change about Black Widow - Natasha Romanoff if she kills people but just not always? She cannot claim to change for the better just because she didn't kill two goons. And Sofia should see that not killing all of them doesn't mean she doesn't kill at all. But I guess leaving so many alive still counts for Sofia as Natasha going soft.

Coulson, you idiot, I am happy you came to save Natasha, but Sofia thought those guys were Natasha's back up. It all wouldn't happen if not for you making them appear there. You fucked up everything for Natasha, Coulson.

Uh, Natasha has the same weird shtick Tony does. She blames herself for the decision of her superior? Yeah, she enabled him to make that decision, but it was still his decision to send those men to find Natasha, so their death is on him, not on Natasha.

Huh, so Natasha's model persona Konn feels empty when nobody looks at her, because her whole life was being the centre of attention? It's kind of sexist cover.

She is a hand model and this guy is disgusting. Natasha I agree with those YUCK.

Natasha doing tehee is so weird.

Also playing a "he sent me here so hours would fly by" is so gross, but inner Natasha voice says nothing yet.

Lol the guy just assumed she is stupid, because she made tehee sounds. Like, goddammit, men are so easy to fool. Condescending little creep indeed.

Ok, so Natasha doesn't have any computer knowledge to say what those lines of code are, but she knows Stark can.

Ugh, Natasha, that line about telling his friends that they did something he imagines is so not feminist of you. It just enables creeps like that to objectify women more and treat them like idiots and fucktoys.

Sofia killed the agent even when Natasha gave her what she wanted.

Natasha wants to save lives and often fails at it too.

She jumped off the yacht to save the guy even though she knew he is dead? I mean shot in the head usually means instant death.

She doesn't get lines of code but can upload tracking device on it. Good. Also she wanna kill Sofia now.

"When I go in for the kill, there's no one I'd rather be than who I really am".

Ah so they had a targeting software for the copy of the Jericho missile manufactured by Hammer.

So they were moving Jericho in parts around the world. They should be happy Tony didn't notice. (Because then they would all just go boom and be dead lol).

"Berserk bots a girl's best friends!"

Frampton wants to have space tourism.

Ten Rings again.

Why Frampton wants to strike Korean DMZ?

Aha, global destabilisation for Ten Rings, gotcha.

Oho, so the info about Natasha busting the trafficking ring comes back. It turns out she accidentally trapped the girls inside when she busted the place. She basically says she didn't know they were there but even if she did she wasn't nice back then.

So Natasha says that Sofia was more her than she ever was, meaning the Black Widow, meaning that Natasha always had softness in her which Sofia didn't have and that Sofia got her just reward for wanting to be the perfect Black Widow.

Still sexist move to make a victim of sex trafficking ring become a morally corrupt murderer who would destabilise world for free if she could, but does that for money, because money is nice addition to her new hobby of fucking humanity up.

"Some people are not worth saving" Not so long ago plenty would say that about me".

AVENGERS:

Oho Stark Tower is the first fully clean-energy powered skyscraper.

Pepper thinks inside the box and Tony thinks outside the box.

Oh, so Tony still says that Rhodey had stolen the suit, but then he admits that it could give him heart attack, because it was not calibrated for him, so I wonder if he really wanted Rhodey to have it or never wanted Rhodey to have it at all.

"I got them to agree that all starktech remains proprietary to you as long as War Machine is on loan to the department of defense".

Lol wow, War Machine was an insult? Anyway he means that Rhodey won't be using Mark II because Tony has new suit for him.

"I am not Iron Man" people yell Iron Man at Rhodey "Ah, forget it" xD

How is Tony saying that he couldn't find anything to go after Gulmira when he was literally busting Ten Rings in Iron Man 2 tie-in comic?

Hahaha, Rhodey wanna get a publicist so people would recognise he is War Machine, not Iron Man.

Rhodey is so vicious. "I could have taken your hand with it but not doing it is more fun".

Oho so Tony THREE MONTHS after Tony was putting S on Stark Tower there is Battle of New York and Rhodey is in Hong Kong.

Incoming call: Martini, seriously? You call Tony MARTINI?

Also for some reason this Tony has blue eyes.

Rhodey is so cocky lol. "I haven't seen anything that can take me down".

"When am i gonna learn to keep my mouth shut?" xDDD Rhodey cursed himself.

So after Iron Man 2 Tony realised that he couldn't be iron solder alone anymore and made Rhodey an armor? Still, trust was a huge factor here.

Lol did he just make a joke about being so beat up as after clubbing with Tony to a commanding officer? Rhodey, you vicious little shit lol xD

"Battle tank that's about to make me street pizza! But only if I stand and take it, which I have never done in my life". That's useful info. It gives me some insight into who was protecting who at MIT. Rhodey never was taking a crap of other people, so he probably was used to fighting bullies. And I can imagine him standing up to bullies who targeted a kid - Tony Stark.

Rhodey chooses to fight smarts with smarts.

DID HE JUST MAKE HIS WAY OF LANDING A FRIGGIN MISSILE STYLE? XD

His commander asks if he is crazy. He definitely friggin is lol.

Rhodey just gave his superior a scare when he let a tank run him over. They thought he died.

OMG Ten Rings assumed War Machine is easier target to get tech from and Rhodey feels offended, but happy they know who he is.

Rings had stark tech in that tank, oh no. Tony will be pissed even if those are old black market stuff.

AWWW RHODEY WAS WORRIED ABOUT TONY WHEN HE DIDN'T RESPOND!

"Don't do this to me, man". "Holy...! That was SOME situation" says Rhodey when he saw chitauri flying whale dead. Ok so Avengers met Rhodey in that shawarma place.

Pepper decorates according to feng shui?

So Ten Rings scanned Rhodey's armor with any scanner available and collected a lot of data on the armor anyway.

#mcu critical #mcu #steve rogers critical #mcu comics #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #thor #rhodey #hawkeye #avengers

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laws-yellow-submarine · 4 years ago

Text

Together With Fruit Ch. 9 (Snippet)

Omgomgomg I actually finished something omg

Obviously this is not the full chapter, but it’s a pretty major chunk of it, and because I’m just so proud of myself and happy that I actually got something I set out to write forever ago FINISHED, I am posting this snippet here as a one-shot (it’s...more than a snippet really, it’s like 4000+ words, and it’s mostly unedited so...ye’ve been warned lol)

Word Count: 4199 (yikes)

Enjoy! Hopefully I’ll have the rest of the chapter finished within the next week or so!

“We’re finally nearing the Grand Line…” Nami muttered, pointing at a spot on the map. “It looks like the only way into it is through Reverse Mountain here.”

“Reverse Mountain?” Hazel murmured, peering over the girl’s shoulder at the point where the seas intersect.

“What a pain. Can’t we just sail straight through it?” Zoro groaned, glaring from where he sat leaning against the rail. Sanji shook his head.

“Nope, from what the geezer told me, that’s the only way boats can enter.”

“How come?” Usopp asked.

“Cause it’s supposedly dangerous.”

“But how come?!”

“I don’t know any more than that!” Sanji yelled, glaring at the sniper.

“Boys, please…” Hazel scolded, trying to stop any fights before they could occur.

“The reason for that is-”

“Alright! I got it!” Luffy interrupted Nami, pointing at the map. “Then let’s head straight into it!”

“Are you even paying attention?!”

“But it sounds fun!” Luffy insisted, grin never wavering. “Plus it’d feel way better going straight into it!”

“Fun or not, I’d like to actually make it to the Grand Line before we die,” Hazel told him, side-eyeing her brother’s enthusiasm. Nami shared the sentiment.

“Talking to you makes me feel like I’m gonna go crazy…” the navigator whined, palm to her forehead in exasperation. Luffy soldiered on, ignoring the women’s concerns.

“Anyways, let’s stop at an island first and get meat! Meat! Meat!” Nami reached a finger out to point at a spot on the map, and Luffy and Hazel both peered closer at the paper.

“There’s a famous city on this island...Loguetown.”

“Loguetown?” Luffy asked, puzzled look on his face as he tried to think. “What? Is it famous for its meat?”

“Also known as the city of the beginning and the end…” Zoro chimed in, thoughtful look on his face. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s where Gold Roger, the former Pirate King, was born,” Hazel supplied, appearing somber, “and where he was executed.”

“The town where the King of the Pirates died...” Even Luffy’s voice was tame, contemplation clear in his eyes. Nami swung her gaze to meet his, sly smile finding its way across her cheeks.

“Wanna go?”

“Yeah! I wanna see it!” As he spoke, his voice grew more excited, though it never lost its reverence. “I wanna see the town where the man who got the One Piece - everything this world has to offer - was born and then died!” Luffy stood up, grin fixed firmly back in place. “Nami! Set sail for Loguetown!”

As the crew scrambled to set their course, Hazel smiled at her brother’s excitement, though she didn’t share the enthusiasm. She didn’t really harbor any opinions on the former Pirate King, good or bad; there just wasn’t enough information available on who the man truly was. She had asked her grandfather once, considering what she knew about his connection to Ace, but after hours of pestering the only thing he’d told her was “don’t believe everything you hear”. Other than that cryptic statement, she knew about as much as anyone else: he was born in Loguetown, he circumnavigated the entire world, then turned himself in (to her grandfather, no less), and was executed in his hometown. For someone who was so famous, you’d think there’d be more to know about him.

Hazel looked down at the notebook in her hand, blank since Shells Town except for the notes she’d taken. She wasn’t going to let Luffy fall into that same level of anonymity. Sure, the boy couldn’t care less about the fame; his views on being the Pirate King weren’t shared by most other pirates, though she found his ideals to be more admirable. What she really didn’t want to happen, though, was for her baby brother’s name to be smeared by the media, with nothing to counteract it.

Which meant she had a lot of work to do.

“Well, before we get to Loguetown, I have to get to work. Which means I’m shutting myself in my room until I’ve finished writing about our adventure so far!” Hazel stated for all to hear. She ignored the odd looks sent her way. “So no one bug me, ok?” When she’d received satisfactory nods, Hazel made her way to the girls’ room, shut the door, and plopped herself down at the writing desk. She ripped out her pages of notes so she could refer to them easily as she wrote, then opened to a blank page, her pencil hovering above the paper.

An hour later and the page was still blank.

Hazel’s pencil had moved, at least. It’d been set on the desk, balanced on her nose (a failure on her part, but no one could see it so she wasn’t too pressed), twirled between her fingers, tucked behind her ear as she stretched in her chair (and changed position at least three times; currently she had her feet on the back of the chair with her head leaning on the desk). She’d doodled little pictures on her note pages; tiny flowers and crude renditions of her crewmates (note to self: hide these so Nami doesn’t see). There’s a reason she hadn’t decided to illustrate this book.

Another hour later and her legs hurt from how much she’d been bouncing them. The page remained blank, her mind void of ideas, and her eyes were fixed on the picture frame hanging on the far wall. Maybe some food would help? She didn’t think she ate much at breakfast…

As Hazel made her way on deck, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted her. Nami was lounging in the sun on the top deck, being served some fancy drink from their newest member. Zoro was, surprise, napping beneath the mast, his swords propped in his lap. Luffy sat on the other side of the ship, watching Usopp practice with his slingshot. Oh, that could be fun!

“Whatcha guys doin’?” Hazel asked, sneaking up behind the sniper, causing Luffy to laugh at the boy’s frightful shriek. “Oops! Sorry, Usopp!” He just glared at her in return.

“Usopp’s practicing his slingshot! See? We set up some targets against the other side of the deck, he’s really good!”

“Well, you see Luffy, I’ve been using a slingshot for at least 25 years,” Usopp boasted, ignoring the fact that he was only 17. “Which of course makes me an expert sniper!”

“25 years, huh?” Hazel snarked. “Well, mister “expert”, whaddaya say to a little contest? The closer to a bullseye gets you more points. Whoever gets the most points wins.”

“Uhh, ok, Hazel. But where are you gonna get a slingshot?” Hazel just pointed to Luffy. Specifically his arms. “Hey, now, wait a minute! You can’t use him!”

“Why not?” Hazel and Luffy asked, both with blank looks on their faces. The sniper spluttered.

“Because-! He’s not-! And you-!”

“Ok, look - we’re not going for power here, just accuracy, so it’ll still be a fair contest. And we’ll use the same ammo, ok?” She left no room for him to argue back, immediately grabbing one of the pellets from his hand and positioning her brother. Usopp rolled his eyes behind her, but sidled up next to the two, aiming his own slingshot at the first target.

“Ready...aim...fire!” Usopp let the pellet fly, smacking the target right in the center.

“Hey, nice job Usopp! But I’m gonna tie it up right here!” Hazel ribbed, tying Luffy’s fingers together to form a sling. She pulled them back, tongue poking out between her teeth as she aimed carefully. When she felt confident in her position she nodded, waiting for Usopp to give the signal, and then let go.

The target shattered to pieces.

“Oh fuck-!”

“WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING?!” Nami’s shrill voice called, causing all three to wince.

“Luffy did it!” Hazel immediately yelled while Usopp checked the ship for damage.

“No I didn’t!”

“Now, Luffy, you know you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not-!”

“ENOUGH!” Nami yelled again, interrupting the siblings. “I don’t care who did it, you’re just lucky the ship didn’t get damaged! You and you-” she pointed to Usopp and Luffy “-clean this up! And you!” Nami pointed at Hazel, making the older woman feel suddenly small. “You’re supposed to be writing right now! Not breaking things!”

“Well...you see...the thing is…” Hazel trailed off as Nami continued to glare at her. Huh. She didn’t like being on the receiving end of this. “I was hungry…?”

“Then ask Sanji-kun for a snack and get back to work. You told us not to bother you and we’re listening, take advantage of that!” At Hazel’s huff Nami smiled. “If you’d like, you can sit in the tangerine grove. I find it very relaxing when I need to focus.”

“Hmm...a change of scenery may be helpful. Thanks, Nami,” Hazel smiled, rolling her neck. “I better go bug Sanji.” But Nami held up a hand to stop her.

“Nope! You go sit, I’ll get it. I don’t want you to get distracted again.” The orange-haired girl walked away without another word, and Hazel was forced at that point to just listen to her. She made her way to the upper deck, finding a nice spot under the trees to nestle in. She reopened her notebook to the still blank page, and tapped her pencil against her chin as she tried to focus. The breeze up here was nice, as well as the sounds of her crewmates (Luffy and Usopp had made a game out of cleaning up her mess). The smell of tangerines wafted over her, muddying her senses. One of her curls was tickling her forehead.

She’d made zero headway by the time Sanji appeared with a snack.

“Hazel-chwan!~ I’ve brought you a plate of delicious sandwiches, and a fresh glass of cabernet sauvignon,” the man said, brandishing a platter on one hand and a glass of deep red liquid in the other. She looked to the glass curiously. Despite having practically lived in a bar half her life, she’d never actually tried wine. Her alcohol tended to be of a rougher variety.

“Oh, yeah, alcohol. That’ll help,” Hazel muttered, hoping Sanji didn’t think her rude. For all she knew, it would get the creative juices flowing, so to speak. “Thank you, Sanji.” She smiled at the cook, his feet practically floating off the ground in happiness. He turned to leave her, and Hazel tentatively took a sip of the wine...only to immediately cringe when the bitter liquid hit her tongue. She glanced around in panic, hoping the blond didn’t see, and snuck the glass behind her back, hidden under the trees. “Ooh! Sanji, wait up!” she called, wine forgotten as she grabbed her plate and ran after him.

“Yes, my love?” Sanji asked, twirling around to gaze at her through heart-shaped eyes.

“I just realized that I never asked about what happened at the Baratie! After we left?” The cook’s expression had switched to confusion at her question. “In fact,” she continued, following him into the galley, “I don’t actually know that much about you. Tell me, what’s your dream? Your motivation? Your tragic backstory? Spare me no detail!”

For the first time since they’d met, Sanji wasn’t looking at her with adoration. In fact, he almost looked a little scared. His eyes darted around for half a second while she pulled out her best pout, gray eyes shining like a puppy begging for table scraps. Later, she’d chide herself for being so mean. After all, she used to practically torture Ace with that expression. But for now, she needed answers.

“Well…” Sanji started, pulling himself together before all the blood rushed out of his nose. “I am merely a humble sea cook, mademoiselle. I fought valiantly for my former home, and for the chance to gaze upon your lovely visage once again.” He flourished into a low bow.

“Uh huh,” Hazel chuckled, an amused smile on her face as she raised a brow. “Definitely humble.” Sanji rose back to standing, an easy grin in place at their shared humor. “Come on, lover boy. Sit with me awhile and tell me a story.”

The two sat and talked for a time, Hazel’s pencil scratching across the pages of her notebook as Sanji divulged all the details he felt comfortable sharing: how Luffy had bartered with Zeff for his freedom, the way he’d swatted projectiles with a single kick. She had a feeling he may’ve been embellishing his actions a bit, but having seen the way he’d toppled part of a building at Arlong Park, she knew it wasn’t all bluster.

He told her of Pearl, the man who’d covered himself in armor, only to lose his mind (and catch fire, apparently) at the first drop of blood. How Gin, the man he’d helped, had taken the old man hostage, and how he’d been willing to die to save his mentor’s dream. Hazel filed away that note for later, planning to ask about the clear devotion Sanji had for the old man, even if the blond tried to hide it behind snark.

She tried not to laugh when Sanji told her Luffy destroyed part of the ship. From what he was telling her, it was actually a brilliant stroke on Luffy’s part, and definitely contributed to Sanji’s outlook on the situation; but the way the blond’s curly brow furrowed over his eyes at the memory was, in her opinion, hilarious.

“So, wait,” Hazel started, pausing Sanji’s tale of his fight with Gin. “How did you come to the Baratie in the first place? Zeff isn’t your father, is he? Why so devoted to preserving his dream?”

Discomfort crossed the cook’s face, as it had earlier, but whether it was his dedication to please the woman in front of him, or because he’d already come this far, he gifted her with the reason. “He saved my life,” was the simple answer. The follow-up nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Hazel reached across the table, covering his hand with her own, and she sent him a soft smile. A light blush dusted his cheeks, and she allowed him to turn away to light a cigarette; she even grabbed the ashtray off the back shelf for him.

Just as they were about to continue, the door to the galley swung open, a rubbery body bouncing its way inside. “Sanji!! Food!” Luffy yelled, head turning frantically before his eyes finally settled on the cook.

“You just ate, you damn animal!” The cook scolded, and the somber mood was broken as Hazel burst into laughter.

“But I’m hungry! Food!”

“I’m busy!” Hazel took that moment to step in.

“It’s alright, Sanji. I can get the rest from you later. If you don’t start dinner soon, we may not have a ship to sail on anymore,” she laughed, drawing Luffy’s attention. The boy leaped onto the bench in front of her, taking Sanji’s place, and glancing at the notebook for a second without reading.

“Whatcha talkin’ about? Whaddaya need Sanji for?”

“He was telling me about your fight with Don Krieg, since I missed it.”

“Oh! I can tell you! There was a boom! And a woosh! And then I went ‘Gum-Gum Bazooka’! And then there was poison gas, but we’re fine, and then everything went boom boom boom boom! And then I got poked a lot! And then-” Hazel tuned out as her brother continued telling her all about the fight with as little detail as possible. Sanji shot her a confounded look over their captain’s shoulder, and the girl replied with a nonchalant shrug. When Luffy finally finished, he looked to his sister expectantly, proud grin wide across his face.

“Thanks Luffy, I’ll make sure to write that down.” The boy nodded, then looked back at her notes from Sanji’s story.

“Looks like you’ve gotten a lot done!” Hazel flinched, grimacing into her palm.

“Yes and no…” Luffy just looked at her, confusion in his eyes, and Hazel gave a heavy sigh. “To be honest, Luff...I don’t really know where to start.”

“At the beginning. Duh.”

“Wow, I never thought about that,” Hazel deadpanned. “And get your finger out of your nose!” As Luffy stuck his tongue out at her, something struck her. Hazel’s eyes widened, an invisible energy urging her hand to move across the paper. “Actually, Luffy, you’re a genius! Thank you!”

She vaguely heard him say something in agreement, but her mind was too focused on the idea it had. Start at the beginning...she was surprised the thought hadn’t occurred to her earlier; after all, she’d only just told the story a week ago.

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

Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town. Even when pirates had settled their sails at its docks the year previous, the villagers had yet to deal with much past the occasional bandit or two. Our lives had been much the same, short as they were; filled with fun and laughter and play. Then one day, the stuff of legends became real, and peace would be known no more.

The sun had shown brightly that morning, though my brother and I had already been up for hours. We always had trouble sleeping the closer to Shanks’ departure. In only a short time, the red-headed man had wormed his way into our lives, and our hearts, and my brother especially was determined to join him this time.

So it was that we stood on the deck of the Red-Hair Pirate’s ship, the hustle and bustle of supplies and crates being loaded around us. A few of the men were singing songs - definitely inappropriate considering the children in their company - but we’d already spent the last seven years in a bar. There was nothing in those songs we hadn’t heard before.

I had been listening to Benn Beckman’s tale of their last voyage when Shanks’ voice had called our attention to the figurehead. Standing atop the dragon’s maw, my brother Luffy stood glaring down at our pirate friends. Unfortunately, none of us had taken his declaration of strength seriously. Not until he drove the knife beneath his eye.

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

The paragraphs flew quickly out of her hand, the day in question clear in her mind. Hazel took a moment to shake out her wrist, feeling stiff as she read over her work so far. She liked it, she really did. Now to keep up this momentum.

The door opened once again, and Usopp and Nami wandered in, talking about something she couldn’t hear. Hazel was still glaring at the page, chewing her cheek as she thought about how to word her next sentence. She heard Sanji mention dinner would be ready soon, Luffy’s excitement sounding through the room, then Usopp’s hiss for him to be quiet.

“Don’t distract her! She’s scary when she’s mad!” the boy whimpered out, much to Luffy’s amusement.

“No she’s not!” he laughed, drawing the sniper’s ire.

“You didn’t think that when she made you take a bath!” Hazel stifled a snort.

“Speaking of which,” Nami chimed in, holding a hand to her nose. “How long ago was that?”

“Actually, Luffy, you are due for one. Zoro too,” Hazel said, looking up at her surprised crewmates. What, did they think she couldn’t hear them at all? “Why don’t you go wash up before dinner. Please?” Luffy groaned, glaring at the navigator, but dutifully made his way to the bathroom. Despite what he said, he didn’t want to push his sister. Again.

Hazel took that moment to stand up, stretching her back with a loud pop, grabbed her notebook, and made her way outside to tell their grungy swordsman his bath was after dinner. She couldn’t see him at first when she stepped outside, but after glancing around for a moment, she finally spotted him. She blinked when she saw his bare back, mesmerized for a moment at the way the muscles rippled as he did push-up after push-up. A second later, she blinked the distraction away, and walked down the steps to the grass-haired man.

“Hey, your turn for a bath after dinner,” she told him, practically hearing him grit his teeth at the notion. “Dinner’s actually almost done, by the way, so you may wanna wrap it up here.”

“Not done,” he grunted, prompting her to raise a brow in his direction.

“Well find a way to be done. We’re hungry, and you’re sweaty.”

“If I’m gonna get stronger, I can’t cut training short. I need more weight.” His gray eyes swung up to hers, and Hazel got the distinct sense he was sizing her up.

“What do you want me to do about that?” She regretted asking the instant she said it. Zoro gestured to his back. His extremely sweaty back.

“Climb on.”

“Excuse me? What are you insinuating here?” She crossed her arms, trying to decide if she needed to hit him for calling her fat or not. She caught him rolling his eyes.

“You’re all muscle, it’s heavier. Climb on.” Hazel chewed her lip, weighing the pros and cons. Then, deciding she had nothing to lose except her hygiene (and really, she could do with a bath herself), she stepped closer to him, cautiously sitting down when he paused for her. He reached his arm around, causing a startled squeak as he adjusted her position, then he resumed his training, a new strain in his breath.

While he worked, Hazel puzzled once again over her notebook. Disappointment flowed through her as she stared at the four lone paragraphs, the struggle for where to take the story next staying her hand. She’d gotten nothing done today, and it was difficult not to take it to heart.

“What are you sighing about up there?” her cushion grunted below her. Hazel rolled her eyes, but decided to humor him by answering anyway.

“I’ve been working on this all day, and somehow I have nothing to show for it.” Zoro was silent except for his heavy breathing, but for some reason she pushed on. “What kind of record-keeper am I? What kind of storyteller can’t tell a damn story? I don’t even have to make it all up, it’s all stuff that happened…” A puff of air escaped her as her eyes began to sting. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this…”

She hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud, and was startled when her chair suddenly stood up. She cried out as she fell, but before she could hit the floor, Zoro’s arms came out to steady her. She looked up at him in shock, affronted at the small glare he sent her way. “Read it out loud,” he said, pointing to the little book in her hands.

“Eh?!” Hazel shrieked, appalled at the very notion of any living being actually hearing her work out loud.

“Read it out loud,” Zoro said again, shrugging his shirt back on. “Then I can tell you if it’s shitty.”

“No way! It’s not ready for human consumption yet!” she yelled, glaring as he sat below the mast. “Besides, who are you to tell me if it’s shit? You wouldn’t know good literature if it waved a sword at you and said ‘boy, speak your name’!” Zoro rolled his eyes at the reference, but leveled her with a steady gaze as it dawned on her the trick he was trying to pull. “Stop it, it’s mine. Why should I share it with you?”

“Because I like the way you tell stories.” He said it so simply, like it didn’t carry nearly the weight for him that it did for her. Hazel felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Something held her gaze on his, something she couldn’t possibly name.

“So how does me reading it aloud help me write it?” Her voice was so quiet, she was surprised he could even hear it.

“Just write it how you’d say it,” he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And when he said it like that, it did seem obvious, and Hazel could kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. Before she knew it, she felt herself nodding, sitting beside him beneath the sail.

“Foosha Village had always been a peaceful town….” she began, reading from the beginning, and surprising herself when her voice continued past the last paragraph. He’d heard the story before, but still Zoro sat, listening with rapt attention. Her voice slowed as she wrote, not allowing herself to forget what she’d said, what phrases she used that flowed from her mouth like water.

At one point Hazel glanced beside her, surprised to see the swordsman’s eyes shut. She let out a sigh, finishing her sentence, but not continuing on. She found herself rolling her eyes at the sleeping swordsman, irked that he apparently found her so boring.

“You stuck again?”

Hazel turned to him again, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes. She let out a half chuckle, shaking her head in amusement, before diving into the next paragraph.

It was only Luffy’s call of “Dinner!!” that finally drew the two inside.

#together with fruit #twf #monkey d. hazel #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #zoro x oc #one piece #one piece fan fiction #one piece fanfics #one piece oc #one piece original character #I don't even care if this is 'good' I'm just. so glad to have something tangible written #I wanna keep going but it's late and my hands hurt #but the hard part is over; all that's left is canon events

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