#and frustrated that even then my options are slim and I have to be cautious

[sharingresourcesforpalestine]

you know, I feel like, as little money as I have, I still haven’t put into perspective how much I have that could still be of use. I’m not so poor that I can’t make a difference. I can still buy a meal if I go out. I can buy a trinket. I’m not so poor or struggling with life that I don’t have food in my stomach and a place to sleep. Donating like I have this week has me wanting to do something that I hope many others are already doing. For every cent I would have spent for myself, on groceries, deliveries, gifts, etcetera (beyond the strikes where I am not spending money on anything but Palestinian causes) I will donate equal or greater that amount to Palestine. Because if I have money for me, I should have money for others. This is not me setting myself on fire to keep others warm, I know I would be of no use long term if I destroyed myself by going entirely broke with no way to survive myself. This is considering things beyond medical bills and life expenses that I need to keep going. When I count groceries, it’s things like when I use Instacart bc I can’t go out, because even though I don’t have a means of transportation, delivery is a luxury and if I can afford to pay for that, I can afford to donate. If I buy something non-essential like some snacks or the like, I have to match it with a donation. Because if I can afford to buy that, I can afford to donate. And just due to the nature of being a reminder, every time I get my period I’m going to donate to sanitary products for Palestine, because while pads are an essential product, donating even a little bit towards helping others get even the opportunity to get the same access as I do is an important reminder. There’s $5 donations available for those, and that’s about the cost of an average subscription I would be able to afford— it won’t buy a whole kit, but it will still put money towards that goal. I may not be able to do all the good the world needs, but the world needs all the good that I can do. As much as I can spare, I will donate. I only wish I could do more.

[cherienymphe]

Seeds of Tomorrow (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, murder, violence, arranged marriage, mentions of infidelity (does it still count if all parties are consenting?), mafia!Steve, side of Bucky x reader, jealous!Steve, Steve is the worst

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

➥ Part 2 to Regrets of Yesterday

summary: your arranged marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers isn’t what you initially thought it would be, but things have worked out better than you could have imagined. However, your arrangement with your husband becomes complicated when feelings, and circumstances, that neither of you anticipated come into play.

~

You stewed over your news for days, unsure of how to navigate this. There was a brief moment where you struggled with who to tell first before the obvious answer slapped you in the face. Of course, Bucky was going to be who you went to first. You needed to figure out what the two of you would do about this, and depending on what that was, there might not be a need to even tell Steve.

Your first order of business was going to a doctor. Sure, your test, and the two more after it, was positive, but you needed more details than that. You needed to know how far along you were and if you were in good health. The day after your enlightening appointment, you called Bucky to let him know that you needed to see him.

You hadn’t seen him, nor Steve, in days. Not since you found out the news. You’d taken the time to cry and stress and mull over several courses of actions, several outcomes that could take place. Steve was gone the day you decided to meet Bucky, and for that, you were grateful. He’d been hanging around more and more as of late, and if that didn’t unnerve you, his attempts at making light conversation did. It never progressed passed a few exchanges through your closed door, and you wondered if his father was breathing down his neck about a son. What other reason could Steve possibly have for talking to you?

Bucky kissed your cheeks as soon as you slid into his limo, holding your hand in his lap as you sat beside him. He looked so excited to see you, and you wondered how long that would last. The conversation was light, Bucky only able to get one- or two-word answers out of you, and as he eyed you, you knew that he could tell that something was wrong.

He helped you out of your thick coat the minute you stepped inside of his house, and you rubbed your hands up and down your arms as he hung it up. He turned to look at you with a frown, hands resting on your shoulders.

“Somethings bothering you. Is it Steve?”

“…sort of. We need to talk…”

Your tone was grim, and Bucky’s face fell, but he guided you up the stairs, nonetheless. You sat down on his bed as he closed his bedroom door, reaching inside of your purse. You had tossed your pregnancy tests the minute you came back from the doctor with the slip of paper that confirmed your condition. Worry filled Bucky’s eyes as you handed it to him, and you watched as he hesitantly took it.

His blue eyes scanned over it, widening when he got to the middle, and you saw the way he paused before reading it again from the top. When he was done, his wide eyes met yours, and he took a cautious step towards you.

“You… You’re pregnant?”

You nodded at him.

“Just…a little over 3 months, and… I haven’t seen Pietro in 4 months so…”

“So it’s mine,” Bucky breathed, and you nodded.

You sharply inhaled when Bucky fell to his knees before you, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed his face into your stomach. You closed your eyes when he peppered kisses against you through the fabric, your hand reaching up to run through his dark hair.

“Bucky,” you said with a sad smile. “We have to talk about our options.”

He snapped his head up to meet your gaze, brows drawn together.

“What options? Y/N, this is our chance. You have to leave him now, and this will convince him to agree,” he replied.

Your lips parted, and you blinked as realization hit you. A part of you, one you didn’t want to acknowledge, swelled at his words.

“You want to keep it…?”

Bucky tilted his head at you.

“Don’t you?”

You thought about it as he continued.

“If it wasn’t for Steve…if it was just you and me… Would you want to keep this baby?”

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation because Steve was your only concern.

He threw you a small smile.

“Then we are keeping it,” he whispered.

“…but…what about Steve? What if he doesn’t agree to a divorce? What if he’s angry?”

Bucky pressed his lips together, a small smirk dancing along them.

“He’ll agree to the divorce, doll. I know Steve better than anyone. He isn’t going to want to raise someone else’s kid. He’s not going to pass on his legacy to a child that isn’t his, and he’s definitely not going to want to deal with all the questions that will surely come when he doesn’t pass his legacy onto a kid that everyone thinks is his.”

You considered this.

“People will figure it out. People will talk. Steve likes his reputation…his image… He’ll give you the divorce. He might be angry that he has to go through this whole marriage process again, he might even throw some dirt on your name, but he’ll let you leave,” he continued.

Bucky stood, hands clasping yours as you looked up at him. A slow nervous smile made its way onto your lips, and a shaky laugh escaped you.

“So…we’re doing this?”

Bucky joined you before pulling you up, yanking you closer until his lips met yours. You hummed into this kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

“You’re pregnant,” he breathed in awe as he pulled away.

He shook his head in slight disbelief, but his smile was the largest you’d ever seen on him.

“You’re pregnant,” he murmured again just before he kissed you again.

His hands made quick work of getting you out of your dress as he moved you back. You both fell onto the bed in a heap, you giggling because Bucky’s lips and fingers just refused to stay in one place, and him growling in frustration because he couldn’t get you naked fast enough.

“You’re going to get so big…so round,” he moaned, pressing his lips to your collarbone.

“Stop,” you begged, heat warming your face at the thought.

“Never,” he breathed, his bare chest grazing yours as he looked at you.

His eyes flitted over your face, drinking you in like he was trying to memorize every detail. He reached up to brush his fingers over your face, across your lips, ghosting over your jaw. He softly pressed his lips to yours as he slid inside of you, your back arching at the feel. You exhaled into his mouth, lips parting as he sank into you to the hilt.

“You have never looked more beautiful than you do now,” he whispered, pulling his hips back before pressing into you again.

You wrapped your arms around him, lips parted as soft moans climbed out of them.

“I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he murmured, just before swallowing your moans with a kiss.

You spent just about all day with Bucky, losing count of how many times you came undone for him. In between, he made sure to bring you food and water, not wanting a repeat of the last gala you went to. Your blissful mood waned however, when you neared your house. Bucky rubbed the back of your hand with his fingers, eyeing you.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You shook your head.

“No. I think it’s best if I do this alone,” you told him.

His expression was unreadable when you looked at him, and he sighed.

“I’ll wait outside then,” he said.

You tilted your head, a soft look on your face as you rested your other hand on his cheek.

“You don’t have to do that,” you replied, shaking your head.

Bucky smirked, but it lacked humor, and you watched the way he eyed the big house through the tinted windows.

“You don’t know Steve like I know Steve.”

His words gave you pause, and you worriedly eyed him.

“Yes, he inherited the business from his father, but it takes a certain kind of man to keep it up and running, especially as well as he does.”

You frowned at him, and his eyes met yours.

“The truth is, you don’t know your husband, at all. You don’t know what he’s capable of, so yes,” he said, making your eyes widen as he reached for his gun and placed it in his lap. “I will wait right outside.”

You were suddenly very nervous, much more than you were before, and you realized that you would have to be way more gentle with the news than you realized. You nodded at Bucky, accepting his quick kiss before allowing him to help you out of the limo. A biting wind hit your cheek, making you wince as you tightened your coat around you. Part of you wished that Steve wasn’t home, but you knew the odds of that were slim.

You were proven right when you walked through the door.

He was leaning back into the couch, ankle resting on the opposite knee as he mulled over some paperwork in his hands. He glanced up at you when you slowly made your way into the living room, blue eyes quickly scanning over your frame.

“You weren’t here when I got back,” he said, eyes returning to the papers before him.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I was…with a friend.”

He cut his eyes to you, and there was that look again. The one he’d given you the night of the gala, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He didn’t give a proper response, merely humming. There were a few seconds of silence before you swallowed.

“Steve, we need to talk.”

You watched as he paused, setting the papers down on the coffee table before looking to you. His expression was unreadable, but that same old cold look was in his eye. You weren’t accustomed to being on the receiving end of it, at least not for this long, and your heart fluttered.

“My only purpose is to…give birth to an heir, correct?”

You could tell that Steve wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth, and he frowned a bit before nodding.

“Yes. Maybe 2 more children after that, but that is why you’re here.”

You nodded.

“…and so…anyone could do that, right? If a baby is all you need then any woman could do that for you? It doesn’t have to be me?”

He didn’t respond right away, and you watched as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He swiftly stood, large hands resting on his hips as he eyed you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and God, did you hate that.

“This conversation is hypothetical…?” he eventually asked although it sounded more like a demand.

Hesitantly, you shook your head at him. You watched as his nostrils flared, jaw clenching as he watched you take off your ring. It was big and shiny and ostentatious in every way. It had never been your style, and you knew there was no shortage of women who’d cut your finger off just to have it. His gaze was icy as you held it up towards him.

“What is the meaning of this?”

You took a deep breath, and Steve’s eyes followed the action.

“I’m asking you to find another woman to give you what you need. I’m sure there’s a whole line of them plotting on my downfall, no idea that…you were never mine to begin with,” you told him.

He took a step towards you, visibly upset now, but you stood your ground.

“We have an arrangement-.”

“Yes, and I’m asking you to find another woman for your arrangement. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but it should be easy for you. It can’t be me, Steve,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

He scoffed, a mocking smirk on his lips as he glared at you.

“Why? Because you can’t handle it anymore?”

“Excuse me?” you said, blinking in confusion.

He neared you, but you were so taken aback by the turn in conversation that you didn’t move.

“You knew what this marriage entailed the very first day. I made it very clear, and I thought that we were both on the same page,” he started.

“I know. We were-!”

“Clearly not, because here you are, standing before me, throwing in the towel because my lifestyle is getting to you. Because you can’t handle it,” he sneered.

You frowned at him, understanding hitting you, and you blinked a few times. You shook your head at him.

“No, Steve. That’s…that’s not what this is about, at all,” you told him.

He tilted his head.

“Isn’t it? Have the lonely nights gotten to you? I told you that you were just as free to-.”

“I know that! Steve, that isn’t what-!”

“Or is this some grand scheme of yours?” he sneered, making you rear back. “…do you think you can threaten me into being with you and only you? You think this little performance, this ultimatum will force me to give up a lifestyle I have been accustomed to for years?”

“No, of course not. That’s not what I’m-.”

“I’m calling your bluff, Mrs. Rogers,” he said, turning his back on you. “So, you can put that ring back on and either suffer in silence or get-.”

“I’m pregnant!”

Steve froze, and you sighed, disappointed with how this conversation was going. You had a plan, damnit! You had a way you were going to go about this, and then Steve just went and ruined all of that. He turned to face you, lips parted and brows furrowed as he mulled over your confession. He pressed his lips together, face suddenly taut as he ran his eyes over you, and you squirmed under his shocked gaze.

“This isn’t about other women or ultimatums or whatever. I’m pregnant, Steve…and it’s obviously not yours, hence the little dilemma I find myself in,” you continued.

“Pregnant,” he murmured, more to himself than you, but you nodded anyway.

“…and…Bucky he-.”

“Bucky?”

His eyes bulged, tone incredulous as he took a step towards you. You swallowed, lips pressed together as he blinked, putting two and two together.

“…as in…my Bucky? James?”

You looked away, feeling a bit guilty that it was his best friend of all people. You knew this was a lot of information to take in, and you didn’t envy Steve in this moment, but you knew that he was just shocked is all. You were pregnant with someone else’s child, Bucky’s child, and should things go your way, he’d have to go through the process all over again of finding a wife. You knew this was frustrating for him.

“Yes. Bucky wants me to keep it…and I agree,” you quietly continued.

Steve said nothing, just stared at you, face pinched. His hands flexed, and you took a step towards him. He stared you down, but his shoulders sagged a bit at the pleading look on your face.

“Let me be with him, Steve.”

His jaw ticked, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek.

“You don’t need me. There’s no shortage of women who would happily take my place. Who could give you what you need,” you said.

He sharply inhaled, straightening as he looked away from you, and your heart sank.

“Steve, please. They get you, you get your son, and Bucky and I get each other. Everybody wins,” you explained.

He sharply cut his eyes to yours, gaze hard as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Is that how you see it?”

His tone made you nervous, and you hurriedly grabbed his hand. He looked just as shocked as you felt because when was the last time you’d done so? Your wedding day? Almost two years ago?

“I’ve never asked you for anything. Never! Despite the fact that this marriage was not what I initially expected, despite the fact that I wasn’t keen on the idea of me and my husband seeing other people, I accepted it. I made the best of it…”

He simply stared at you, and you went on.

“Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to go to Bucky of all people. It definitely wasn’t smart to be as careless as we were, but I won’t apologize for it. I’ll apologize for inconveniencing you, for springing this on you, but I won’t apologize for falling in love. Especially not when I can be easily replaced,” you told him. “Say whatever you want. Say I ruined the marriage, say I was a complete bitch, I don’t care. Just…let me be with him, Steve. This is the only thing I’ve ever asked of you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest at any moment, and all the while, Steve simply stared. Your eyes searched his for any kind of clue, anything that would tell you what he was thinking, but he simply looked towards the ceiling. His broad shoulders heaved as he released a long sigh, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“…alright.”

You froze, eyes widening, and he lowered his head until his eyes met yours.

“I will…draw up the divorce papers tomorrow-.”

He didn’t even finish before you were throwing your arms around him, a million ‘thank yous’ escaping your lips.

“I don’t want anything, Steve. Nothing. Everything is yours just…thank you,” you breathed.

Steve was frozen for a moment, taken aback by your uncharacteristic display of affection. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him. The two of you had never hugged before. Reluctantly, he wrapped his own arms around you, briefly returning the gesture before you both let go. You smiled at him, a genuine gesture that you had never given him before, and his hands fell to his sides.

“Thank you, Steve,” you tearfully told him. “Thank you.”

You leaned in to press your lips to his cheek, but Steve turned his head, lips meeting yours. It was brief, and you pulled away in shock, but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was an accident, and even if it wasn’t, there was no harm in a simple kiss goodbye. Steve had given you everything you wanted, so you wouldn’t fault him for it.

You tightened your coat around you as you stepped away, thanking him again. You turned the minute you got to the living room entrance, sprinting for the door without hesitation. Bucky was leaning against the limo when you stepped outside, and your smile was wide as you headed straight for him. He caught you in his arms, lips finding yours the minute he pulled you into the car.

 “…we can come back to that later. What if it’s a boy?”

Bucky threw you a look across the table, and you chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Of course. James Buchanan Barnes the 2nd,” you said, Bucky joining in as he took your hand.

“Are you nervous?”

You shook your head at him with a small smile.

“I don’t care what it is. As long as it’s healthy,” you told him, and he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. “I know a male is preferred…in this line of business.”

Your voice grew small, and Bucky frowned at you, standing to help you stand.

“That’s true, but my family is not as old fashioned as Steve’s. A daughter could run this business just as easily as her father,” he said. “Hell, maybe better than her old man.”

You laughed with him as he helped you into your coat. You rested your hand on your swollen belly as he helped you outside. You were just at 5 months now, although it sometimes felt like 8, and you would be finding out the sex of the baby today. You were excited, and you couldn’t believe how much time had passed so quickly.

No one had been more surprised than you that Steve just…let you go. You remembered thinking that you would probably have to beg on your knees, hell, maybe even offer to blow him, but it seemed that Bucky really did know Steve best. He had been true to his word, drawing up the divorce papers almost immediately. You received them two days later and signing them was simple enough. You didn’t want anything, and Steve didn’t want anything from you. You sent them back to him as soon as your signature was on the paper, and you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Bucky, eager as always, wanted to marry you right away, but by the time all the planning and arranging had been made, you would be…well 5 months along. Where you are now, and you didn’t want to wear your wedding dress with a baby bump.

“Besides, wouldn’t it be cute to have our baby in the wedding pictures?” you had told him, and he was forced to agree that it was a cute idea.

Your doctor liked the sound of it too, and she was flattered to be invited to the wedding.

“We’ll have to see what my schedule is like, but I’d be honored to attend,” she said, eyes on the monitor.

Bucky’s hand was tight around yours as you both eyed the screen, and you watched as your doctor smiled.

“Everything still looks good since the last time you saw me, but there he is. Your healthy baby boy,” she told you, and your lips parted.

You leaned closer, eyes running over the screen in awe, and you felt Bucky’s lips against the top of your head.

“We’re not calling him junior,” you suddenly whispered, and Bucky chuckled into your hair.

“We’ll call him whatever you want, doll.”

The whole ride home was spent gushing about your son. His crib, his nursery, his clothes, schools, anything you could think of. Bucky hadn’t stopped grinning since you left the doctor, and he fucked you just a little bit more gentle that night.

When you woke up, you felt more well rested than you had in a while. Bucky’s side of the bed was empty, but it wasn’t unusual. Business called, but he regularly checked on you throughout the day whenever he was gone. You had a nice breakfast, thankful that the morning sickness chapter of your pregnancy was gone. Truth be told, you couldn’t wait for the hormones to kick in. Then Bucky would have no choice but to stay home and fuck you all day.

You were in the living room, reading one of your several baby books that Bucky had bought you, when the doorbell rang. You called to your housekeeper, telling him that you would get it before he had the chance to run all the way across the house. You hated making anyone’s job harder. With only some difficulty, you rose from the couch and made your way to the front door.

The figure through the decorative window seemed familiar to you, and your suspicions were confirmed when you looked through the peephole. Confusion filled you, but you unlocked the door anyway, prepared to tell Steve that Bucky wasn’t here. However, the minute you opened the door, he forced himself inside, gliding past you.

You hesitated for a second before closing the door, blinking as you turned around.

“Steve…Bucky’s not here,” you told him.

You were more than surprised to see him. You hadn’t seen him since the day you told him you were pregnant and hadn’t heard anything from him since you’d sent the divorce papers back. He and Bucky still worked together, running this city side by side, and from the way your fiancé talked, it seemed that they were as close as ever. You knew that Steve didn’t care about you, but you were still worried that some weird macho ego thing would get in the way of their friendship. You were relieved that wasn’t the case.

“I know that. I’m here…”

He had spun around to face you, words dying in his throat as he fully looked at you for the first time in months. His pink lips parted, blue eyes lowering to fall to your protruding stomach. Force of habit, you placed your hand on your belly, eyes wide and curious as you waited for him to finish.

“I’m here to see you,” he quietly finished.

Your brows furrowed,

“Oh! Okay then,” you said, stepping further into the living room.

You could feel his eyes on you as you cleaned up your mess, stacking your books and moving to put your empty mug in the sink. He was still in the same spot when you returned, cold eyes on you. It would have bothered you before, but you had long accepted that Steve was just like that with almost everyone.

As you sat down, you noticed some papers in his fist, and you curiously eyed them.

“What’s going on? Is this about Bucky?”

His jaw ticked at the mention of the dark-haired man, and he heaved a sigh.

“These,” he started, holding up the papers in his hand. “…are our divorce papers.”

You stared at him for a moment, a slight frown on your face as you registered what he said. When it finally clicked, you blinked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Our what? Steve, why do you still have those?”

He didn’t answer, and you called his name again.

“Why weren’t those sent off? Is something wrong with them? Did I miss a signature?”

You were positive that you hadn’t, but why else did he still have them? God, did this mean you had still been married to him this whole time? Were you still married to him? He didn’t respond right away, and he looked away from you, nostrils flaring.

“I can’t send them off,” he told you, making your heart drop to your stomach. “I won’t.”

You stood on shaky legs, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You’re kidding…right?”

Steve simply stared at you in that impassive way that always made you feel like such a nuisance, and you scoffed.

“Why?” you quietly demanded. “Do you…do you want something from me? From Bucky? Money?”

It seemed insane because Steve was rich, but what else could he possibly want? That was the only logical reason for why he didn’t send those papers off. You huffed when you realized that he wasn’t even looking at you, his bright blue eyes focused on your bump. He took a step towards you, papers still clutched in his hand as he pointed at you.

“That baby should be mine.”

His words made your head spin, and you wondered if you heard him correctly. When your mind fully processed his statement, you felt like you were going to be sick.

“I’m…sorry?”

He took another step towards you, and when his eyes met yours again, you saw more emotion in them than you ever had. They were on fire, gaze intense as he stared you down, jaw clenched.

“That…baby…should…be…mine,” he slowly repeated, and you took a step back.

It took a while for you to respond.

“Are you…okay?”

You stared at him like he was high on something, confusion and dread clouding your thoughts. Was this a prank? Had Steve developed a sense of humor that you didn’t know about?

“You heard me,” he spat, and you nodded.

“Yes. I know. I’m just…trying to make sure I heard you correctly or maybe you didn’t say what you meant to say…?”

“…and why would you think that? Did I stutter? Do I look unsure of my words in any way?” he sneered.

You didn’t appreciate his tone, and you glared at your ex-husband. Well…estranged husband because thanks to him, you two were still married.

“Forgive me if I’m a little confused, Steve,” you snapped. “…but you don’t even like me, and I’m not talking romantically here. You don’t care for me as a person, and here you are saying that my baby…should be yours?”

He placed his hands on his hips, turning his head away as he exhaled.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Why him?” he suddenly asked, glaring at you. “Out of all of the men in this world that you could have fucked, why Bucky? Why him?”

He continued before you could respond.

“You could have fucked literally anyone else, and you chose my best-.”

“For your information, I did fuck literally anyone else I wanted to,” you threw at him, watching as he reared back. “…Bucky just happened to be the only one I fucked during the last 4 months of our marriage…and the one I fell in love with.”

He swallowed, and you sighed.

“Is he the problem? Is it because it’s your best friend and not some stranger you don’t have to see every day?”

You did feel a tad guilty about it, but there had never been any stipulations in your agreement outside of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ and never in the house. You certainly hadn’t expected to fall in love with Bucky, but it couldn’t be helped. How could you not when he was the complete opposite of your husband?

“He’s glowing.”

Your confusion must have been evident, because he continued without any prompting from you.

“Every time I see Bucky, he’s practically glowing. He looks the happiest I have ever seen him, all smiles and excitement and an air of peace that was never there before. It had started long before you dropped the bomb on me, and it was only after did I realize why.”

You frowned at him.

“You make him so happy. He’s almost unrecognizable in his joy…and its because of you…and I hate it,” he lowly admitted.

Your frown deepened as he glared at you.

“That happiness…that peace, it should be mine. That baby should be mine. You were mine first,” he said, and you scoffed.

“I was never yours. You made that perfectly clear not even five minutes into our marriage.”

“I regret that. I won’t lie to you. I’ve regretted that for some time now…”

He slowly started to pace before you, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek.

“I had any woman I could want…and I was so miserable. They all started to sound the same, feel the same…and eventually, they all became faceless to me,” he quietly said.

His words reminded you of his odd behavior before everything seemed to hit the fan.

“…all except one.”

He turned to look at you, and you swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Ironically, the one I never had. The one who, as you so eloquently put it, was never mine.”

You nodded, a humorless chuckle escaping you.

“So you got tired of fucking anything that moved and decided to move onto me… You have some nerve, Steve.”

You shook your head at him.

“I know.”

“…and what if I decided that I didn’t want to move forward with you and only you? What if I had told you that I liked our little arrangement because, as you can see,” you said, gesturing around you. “…I like our little arrangement a lot.”

His nostrils flared.

“We would’ve crossed that bridge when we got there…”

“Looks like we’re at that bridge now.”

You both stared each other down for what felt like forever before he finally said what you’d been waiting for.

“I don’t want you to be with him.

“Well, that’s too damn bad! I’m with him. I’m having his baby, for crying out loud, we’re engaged,” you yelled, holding up your left hand.

Steve’s eyes simply passed over your ring like it didn’t matter, holding up the divorce papers as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“How will you marry him if you’re already married?”

Maybe the hormones were already kicking in because you felt yourself growing hot, tears springing forth as you glared at him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you cried. “I’m happy! I’m so happy, and you are ruining this!”

Steve simply looked at you, not an ounce of remorse on his features, and you scoffed.

“You didn’t want me,” you spat.

He looked down, hands still placed on his hips. Your chest was heaving, and you were so angry you thought you’d give birth then and there.

“Do you remember? You barely looked at me on our wedding day, and the few times you acknowledged me during our marriage, I felt like a complete nuisance. A burden! You didn’t want me…but now you don’t want anyone else to have me?”

“I never said I was perfect.”

You briefly closed your eyes, holding back your tears.

“This is my chance to have a happy wedding, a happy marriage. You don’t have to be this selfish, you know? You don’t have to live up to your reputation.”

He didn’t respond, and your frustration and desperation grew.

“Steve!”

He merely shrugged at you, and you sneered at him.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

He sniffed, and you watched as he gripped the papers with both hands, making your eyes widen.

“Discuss it with Buck however you like, but you’re coming home-.”

“No,” you shrieked, rushing towards him as he tore the papers.

Your nails dug into his hands, trying to stop him, but the damage was already done. You slapped him, the sound echoing in the quiet house while your other hand gripped his collar. Without hesitation, Steve’s hand was around your throat, and your eyes widened at his harsh grip.

You hit against him as he forced you back, nose brushing yours as he ran his eyes over you. There was a darkness there that you were unfamiliar with, and you wondered if this was the reason Bucky had insisted on waiting for you that day. You wondered if this was the Steve he knew that you didn’t.

All of your thoughts came to a screeching halt when he pressed his lips against yours. His mouth completely covered yours, and shock coursed through you. You pushed against him, but his free arm simply curled around you, pressed your bump against him as he moved his mouth against yours in a brutal kiss. He groaned against your lips, and you shook in his hold, tears escaping now.

He only broke away from you when you both heard a noise, and you both turned to see Jarvis, your housekeeper, standing in the entranceway to the kitchen. His eyes were wide, and he looked unsure on what to do until his eyes met your fearful ones. Everything after that seemed to happen so fast.

Jarvis ran towards the phone while Steve let you go to reach into the inside pocket of his suit. You pushed yourself against him, fear gripping your frame as you fought to stop him from doing what you suspected. He had no qualms about shoving you away from him, and you barely caught yourself against the couch just as a gunshot rang in your ears.

You clutched your stomach, a scream climbing out of your throat before you snapped your mouth shut. Your stomach churned, and you were positive you were going to be sick. It was quiet save for your soft sobs, and when you hesitantly looked to Steve only to shake as you stared down the barrel of a gun.

“Steve,” you whispered.

He gestured in the direction of the stairs with the gun, blue eyes on you as he tilted his head.

“Up the stairs, sweetheart.”

You clenched your jaw, fear of so many things swirling in your head as you straightened.

“You’re not going to kill me,” you told him.

He wouldn’t, and you both knew it.

“You’re right. I’m not,” he said with a shrug, putting the gun away. “…but you’re still going to walk up those stairs. Baby or no baby, you can’t fight me off.”

He was right, and despite the fresh tears that hit your face, you slowly made your way towards the stairs. His steps were loud behind you, they always had been, and you always hated the sound of him walking throughout the house. You jumped when you felt his hand on the small of your back, and he shushed you.

“Easy,” he said, guiding you through the hallways.

It was clear that Steve was familiar with Bucky’s house, and while that wasn’t a surprise, his intentions, once they became clear, were. Your eyes widened when the master bedroom came into view, and you dug your heels into the floor. It was in vain.

Steve wrapped his arms around you, forcing you into the room despite your nails digging into the doorjamb to stop him. You were full on sobbing as you fought against him, elbowing him and hitting him anywhere you could reach. His hold was firm, and you were a trembling mess when he pushed you down onto the mattress.

“Is this where he fucks you every night?”

“Steve, please,” you begged, pushing against him.

One hand was pressed into your back, and you could hear him undressing himself with the other.

“…is this where he knocked you up? No, why would the two of you ever need a fancy hotel when you had his big house all to yourselves,” he sneered.

It took nothing for him to get you undressed. Dresses were the most comfortable things for you right now, and with a baby dancing on your bladder, underwear just got in the way more often than not. You were hysterical as Steve grazed his hand over your back, fingers dancing over your skin as he drank you in for the first time.

He flipped you, and you stared up at him with pleading eyes. One hand splayed along your chest, fingertips brushing your collarbone as he stepped between your legs, practically ignorant to the way you tried to keep them shut.

“Steve,” you pleaded again.

He ignored you, his free hand finding its way between your legs, playing you like an instrument. You squeezed your eyes shut at the feel, trying in vain to fight off the emotions he brought out of you. Your eyes snapped open when you felt him at your entrance, and you started to plead with him one last time when he pushed himself into you, making you swallow your words.

You had never even seen Steve without a shirt on, let alone naked, so you didn’t know what to expect. He was bigger than Bucky, and your body fought to adjust to him. A choked sob escaped you, and Steve merely groaned as he pressed himself against you. Through your blurry vision, you could see that his eyes were on you, hungrily taking you in as he pulled back.

He stopped when only the tip of him remained before snapping into you. You yelped, hand flying up to grip the one on your chest, nails pressing into his skin. His pace wasn’t brutal, but it wasn’t gentle either. The low moans that escaped his lips made your skin crawl, and you cried harder every time he pressed his hand against your stomach.

You pushed against him as he wiggled his hips, and fed up with all of your resistance, he gripped both of your hands and harshly pinned them beside your head. His lips were on your face now, tasting whatever he could. Your cheeks, your jaw, your mouth. You kept turning your head away, and eventually, he huffed.

“I doubt you’re like this with Bucky…”

You grimaced at the thought of your fiancé, his best friend, and more tears fell.

“Do you sing for him? I bet you squirm for him like a little puppy,” he sneered.

He moved, pressing his knees into the bed on either side of your thighs, hitting something in you that had your breath hitching. A smirk danced along his pink lips, a devious chuckle escaping him. He pressed into that spot over and over, forcing small whimpers to bubble in your throat.

“There she is,” he purred, leaning over to press his lips against your jaw. “I’ve thought about this for months. What you’d feel like…sound like…”

He grinded his hips against yours, and you gasped, heart fluttering as you clenched around him.

“Don’t be afraid to squeeze me, sweetheart. Milk me,” he murmured.

You shook your head, pushing against his wrists, but his hold was firm.

“When the time comes, I’m going to put a baby in you-.”

“No,” you yelped, squirming underneath him.

“I’m going to keep you pregnant…and you’ll never leave…”

You could feel him twitching, hips stuttering, and his breath grew shaky.

“I’m going to keep you full of my cum, and Bucky will never get his hands on you again.”

You fluttered around him as he came inside of you, choppy gasps escaping you as your head spun. You could feel the mess you were making of your sheets, and you wanted to cry again. Steve groaned when he pressed his lips to yours, and you turned your head away.

“I should have fucked a baby into you on our wedding night,” he breathed. “…but I’ll be sure to make up for lost time from here on out.”

You glared at him, and he simply smirked at you, that smirk only growing when the sound of the front door opening reached your ears.

~

tags:   @mcudarklibrary​​ @sherrybaby14​​ @harryspet​​ @xoxabs88xox​​ @darkficreposter​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​ @honeychicanawrites​​  @nickyl316h​​ @captainchrisstan​​ @sebabestianstan101​​ @readermia​​ @villanellevi​​​ @lokislastlove​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​ @hurricanerin​​​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​​​ @quaksonhehe​​​ @nerdygirl8203​​​ @patzammit​​​ @mandiiblanche​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​​ @gotnofucks​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @vogueworthy-barnes​ @supraveng​

[fandom-monium]

Alive Together - Day 1

Summary: Welcome to the Monsterpocalypse. You’re a lone wanderer trying to survive. Until you meet Joel Dawson and Boy.

WC: 4k

Tag/Warnings: light themes of death and grief?? Cursing but minimal. Slow burn. Enemies to friends to lovers?

AN: MEET CUTE? NO. MEET UGLY.

(Entry 2#3#)

Hungry. I have nothing else to report today except that I, (Your Name), am starving. Grilled spiders and roasted centipedes are starting to get old.

I've mentioned it before and I'll do it again, but I miss home cooked meals. Even Dad's shoddy attempts at recreating Mom's recipes. The last time I think was… nevermind.

It hurts; I barely remember the last time I had dinner with Dad, much less Mom, flashes of the memories I have left blurring. Probably from the tears. I used to cry at the slightest thought of Mom and then Dad. Now my heart clenches whenever I try because I shouldn't have to try to remember my own family. Believe it or not, it’s progress.

Maybe it's my fault. I hadn't bothered to snag any mementos that reminded me of them before fleeing the bunker, like an album or something. There weren't many personal items that they'd given me, now that I think about it. Too much clutter, the Captain said.

Or maybe it's the lack of consistent stimulus to my brain. I can't read as much as I'd like to, mainly because it's too dangerous to be distracted (constant vigilance is an important virtue in this world, if you hadn’t noticed). Most books that I've stumbled across (literally, I tripped over a hill of hardcovers. Not fun. Very painful) were either tattered or worn beyond comprehension, destroyed by rain or monster attacks.

Speaking of, my stomach grumbled. I need to start hunting before it gets dark... and before I attract another monster to myself. Again.

-(Your Name) (Your Last Name)

Day 1 - First Impressions

You shut the journal as an ominous roar thunders in the distance. Heart in your throat, you’re already on your feet, shoving the book into your pack and gathering the rest of your things. Once you’re certain there’s no trace left of you on the roof, you gaze at the neighborhood below, shielding your eyes as you scan for signs of alerted monsters.

Greenery and ruins go on for miles, unperturbed.

It’s high noon, rays of sunlight seeping through the clouds and warming your exposed skin. A gust of wind brushes your face and hair, and you suppress a smile. It’s not everyday the weather is this nice, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d relish in it.

Good thing you do know better.

You trace your path to the hills. The town is a maze of torn down buildings and overgrowth, winding roads littered with abandoned houses and wrecked vehicles, and, of course, hidden monsters. There’s only a couple hours before nightfall, and you’re far from your destination.

Better start walking. You’ve wasted enough time.

You climb down the side of the dilapidated house, dropping to the ground with a thump. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since the start of the apocalypse, it’s that residential areas harbored the most monsters, aside from the cities. Too many alcoves perfect for nesting. It’s safer away from the old world.

Safer, not safe.

You keep to the shadows, avoiding the open whenever you can despite the barren streets, darting between urban remnants. Your heart eventually settles as you scan your surroundings like anything and everything will pounce on you the second you let your guard down. By the time you cross the residential area and asphalt roads bleed into dry fields (from years of neglect, you somberly note), the sun has crept out from behind the clouds and the sky is clear blue.

You find a barn after hours of trudging through shrubs and your sore feet. It looms at the top of the hill leading to a dense forest, tall enough that as you step into its shadow it blocks out the sun. Walking closer, you tense as you scrutinize the place, eyes combing over the immediate vicinity.

Nothing. Nothing moves or breathes. You don’t see or hear a peep. Not from the barn or the woods beyond. It’s completely isolated from the nearby town, a perfect fort.

Or a nest.

You huff; shit like this has happened one too many times and you’d be a fool if you haven’t learnt your lesson by now. You pull out your javelin and approach with caution, leaves and grass crunching under your boots as you take in the chipped paint and boarded up windows, steadily making your way around the decrepit building. You frown at the clear deterioration, unable to spot any visible breaches.

Reaching the front of the barn, you gaze warily at the lone entrance. Tall doors ajar, old boards are still nailed across the slim gap or hanging precariously. As if someone or something pried them off, busted through.

In or out, you can’t tell.

For a moment, you weigh your options. You doubt the place had anything to offer, pillaged long before you stumbled upon it. Hell, there’s probably a monster nesting somewhere inside, or a bunch of monster eggs.

But you need food, supplies, rest. Are you willing to risk your life on the small chance this rickety barn can provide those things?

You stare down the the opening and it stares back, deceptively innocent. But it’s mocking you, you can hear it. Just daring you to walk away. 

You shuffle on aching feet, making your clothes rub against your sweaty skin.

As if on cue, your stomach growls.

Groaning, you adjust your grip on the spear before ducking inside.

You let your eyes adjust to the dark interior. Light seeps through the rotted ceiling and cracks from the boarded windows, enough that you don’t need a flashlight to see the place is deserted. You glance around the huge room, javelin ready as you wait with bated breath, ears straining to hear over your pounding heartbeat.

Nothing. You don’t hear anything, except the trees rustling outside. Nothing shifts or darts out of sight. No signs of life, not even eggs (that you can see).

It doesn’t mean you're clear, but it’s a start.

Biting your lip, you take a careful step, and another and another, your eyes sweeping the room as you tread over straw and debris. You pause mid-step when you catch a pulley system attached to the ceiling. It’s dark, but you recognize its outline. Frowning, you trace its small, thin woven ropes as they split in different directions against the ceiling and walls, hitting and crossing the floor until they disappear under a thick layer of hay.

You raise your foot, gently kicking away the straw. You step back.

A net. A decent sized one by the width of the patch of hay.

You sigh, shoulders dropping in relief. If you hadn’t been cautious you’d never have noticed it.

You make your rounds quickly as you check for resources. At this point, it’s muscle memory for you as you move through the room with silent purpose, efficient and controlled. You dig through every storage unit, every container, pulling open cabinets and drawers, tearing through the floor with precision as you toss aside rusted tools and empty cans, a pit burning in your stomach. You snarl, throwing down another torn rag. It hits the floor with a thud.

You knew this would happen. You know the chances, but after all this time you still feel the crushing disappointment? You let out a shaky breath, nostrils flaring as you attempt to quell your frustration.

You can practically hear your mother snap at you. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you, (Your Nickname), unless you want to die, her stern voice echoes. You unclench your teeth with a sigh.

It doesn’t take long, your anger simmering down with each exhale, and when you’re sure you’re calm enough, you resume your initial task: scavenging the barn. Is it a waste of time and energy? Yes. Will you find anything useful? Unlikely. Are you going to try anyway?

You head for the stairs to the hayloft. Even if there seems to be nothing left, you need to make sure.

A few minutes later, you're sifting through another trunk when a yelp cuts across the dusty air, followed by the shrill sound of grinding metal. You startle, hissing as you bang your head against the trunk lid. Pushing down the throbbing pain, you snatch your spear and clamber down the stairs, stumbling forward as your eyes darting around the dust drifting in the air. Something barks over you and you look up.

Huh. Did not expect that.

You were prepared for a snarling, limb crushing insect. Or maybe a triple jawed mammal. Even a mega-pig. You’ve seen enough of those and managed.

But a dog? More specifically, a dog caught in the net you barely avoided. It’s tangled in the ropes suspended just above your head, gently swaying. It seems it does not care for the swinging because it starts barking again, louder and more urgent than before.

“Ah, poor doggy,” you croon, lowering your weapon. To your surprise, the dog stops and jerks to face you, its dark eyes gleaming in the shadows. You eye the seemingly calm animal. “Now, how did you get here? Were you following me?”

The dog whines, squirming in a sad attempt to escape. Your lips quirk up. Aside from the occasional bird, you haven’t seen a normal animal in what feels like forever, much less a dog. Most regular animals were consumed by monsters or by people for food.

Food. You haven’t eaten.

You study the dog; its dark brown fur, sleek and short, its body small⎼almost medium sized, with pointed ears and a long snout. And by the way it looks at you, it has some intelligence.

Your stomach grumbles, and the creature cocks its head at you, ears forward.

Shit.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you grimace at the dog, adjusting your hold before aiming the tip at it. “It’s nothing personal, okay? I’m hungry, and you’re the first thing I’ve seen that hasn’t tried to kill me in a while.”

Which isn’t a lie. Hunting is crazy difficult these days. But you swallow as your eyes meet, its stare unwavering like you aren’t pointing a weapon at his little body. Just one motion and you could end its life painlessly (lucky bastard), but your knuckles go white and you grip falters. Why are you hesitating now?

The dog, as if sensing your battle, barks again, this time more composed than panicked, as if trying to communicate with you. You’re grateful you can’t speak Dog. It’s probably saying something like ‘No, you’re better than this’ or ‘Please don’t do this’ or⎼

“Put him down!”

Or that.

Dear Aimee,

Guess what?

I got a dog! And he’s the coolest, his name is Boy.

He saved my life from a giant frog in a pool who tried to eat me with his tongue, and then we hung out in his bus! Man, do we make a great team. We found out that we have a ton in common too. I feel like we can talk about anything.  

You gotta see us out here; we’re like this iconic duo. I don’t know, feels like when we’re together, we’re unstoppable.

“Right, Boy? Boy?” Joel glances at his side, doing a double take. The dog’s gone. His shoulders slump, “Of course, the first friend I’ve made outside and he leaves me. Sounds about right.”

He didn’t think he could gain and lose a friend within the span of two days. This has to be some kind of record.

He jerks when he hears Boy’s faint barking, guiding him as he drags himself back to the old barn they just passed. For good reasons. The decaying barn looks like it’s in need of a new contractor and a paint job… or three. And an exterminator.

God, the surface is terrifying.

Gulping down his dread, Joel crouches to peer through the gaping hole in the wall. This must be where Boy came through. “Whatcha got there?”

The barking ceases, and so does Joel’s heart.

You stand in the dark like an apparition, back turned to him so he can’t make out your features. Your attention is fixed on the shadowed lump hanging over you, and while it’s dark and he doesn’t have a good vantage point, Joel’s mouth goes dry as he seeks out Boy.

Boy woofs again, and Joel’s heart drops. You step closer to the lump.

For a split second, he sees a flash of his mother’s face, her tears streaming down her cheeks.

He doesn’t think; no thoughts, head empty. Blood roars in his ears. His hands tremble. But he doesn’t hesitate, ripping the makeshift crossbow from his back as he scrambles under the opening.

“Put him down!”

He’s not entirely sure what he expects. He’s read enough comic books to understand the situation; the hero drops in to save damsel in distress then proceeds to demolish the bad guys. Technically, he has the upper-hand here. Right?

But realization slams into him. It knocks the air out of him, and he forgets to breathe.

He shouldn’t have barged in like an idiot. He isn’t a hero. He’s nothing like the superheroes in comics and movies and graphic novels. He doesn’t have super strength or speed or highly advanced tech and he sure as hell is not a genius. 

What he does have: a freezing problem.

He’s already lost feeling in his hands, and he almost drops the weapon as you look over your shoulder at him.

On the other hand, you have a pretty clear idea before you face your captor (seeing him now, can you even consider him that?). With the apocalypse, governments crumbled with ease along with laws and morals, so it’d make sense for people to disregard them. You’ve met quite a few… characters, and you’ve chalked it up to these main categories; garbage thieves, sleazy scavengers, and shitty thugs.

In short, humans are selfish creatures. Prepare for the worst.

You’ve thrown down, fought dirty, bartered with them all and still managed to come out on top, the scars across your body a constant reminder. Nothing surprises you at this point.

A fumbling boy though? You mask your amusement, raising an eyebrow as you take him in. The guy, tall and disheveled, blocks the only exit out of this godforsaken place, his red jacket rumpled and dusty like he’s fallen one too many times. However, what nearly sends you is, as he steps further into the light, you bite your lip, his eyes round and small lips pressed together as the crossbow quakes in his hands.

Who let this puppy out of their sight?

“Listen, buddy,” You finally speak, making Joel flinch. Your eyes narrow as his fingers jerk on the trigger. That’s not good. “If you’re gonna point that thing at me, you better know how to use it.”

He sucks in air, clearing his throat as his eyes dart between Boy and you. He cringes when his voice comes out octaves higher than he expected, “Let Boy go.”

“’Boy’?” You glance up, your weapon still raised at the squirming little fellow. “Oh, you mean Dinner?”

“You were gonna eat him?”

You shrug. “Maybe. Depends how this goes.”

“Okay,” Joel swallows, a futile attempt to keep his tone even as nausea sprouts in him. You plan to eat Boy? How can someone eat something so cute? “Let him go, and we’ll leave you alone. How ‘bout that?”

Beads of sweat drip down his temple as his breaths come out shuddered. He’s not used to this; he’s gone from being the chef of his colony to making demands, negotiating with a possible psycho.  He never trained for this! Well, he’d never been trained, period.

What if he says the wrong thing and sets you off, hurting Boy in the process? He might faint⎼no⎼he will faint. He doesn’t think his heart can handle losing more people… or animals. How is he supposed to save Boy? His fingers twitch against the trigger.

You don’t miss it.

“I don't know about that,” You reply, studying him. His hands tremble as they clutch the weapon. He may not be a scavenger or a thief, but that just makes him all the more unpredictable. Goons, you’d expect them to shoot first, ask questions later, but the fact this guy is making an effort to talk? You want to know his angle, his intentions.

Whether it’s good or bad.

“I’m hungry. It’s going to be dark soon, and Boy here,” You jerk your head at the canine, “was unlucky enough to fall into this ol’ trap.”

You watch, withholding a sneer as emotions and thoughts flit across Joel’s face like an open book. It seems a lightbulb goes off because he looks back at you, eyes wide and hopeful. “You want food? I have some in my backpack. If I give it to you, you let him go?”

He tries not to squirm, the little courage he has waning as your eyes bore into him.

“…Put the crossbow and the bag down. Slowly.”

“You too.” You tilt your head curiously as Joel stutters, “Your spear⎼I mean, if you could stop pointing it at my dog. Please.”

Your brows shoot up. Since the moment he entered⎼wait⎼floundered in here, he could not have made it more obvious that he has no idea what he’s doing. If it wasn’t the way he carried that exposed him, it was definitely his facial expressions, and if not his face, you can hear it trickle through the cracks in his voice. Yet despite how unfair the situation is for him, he’s trying to cover his terror. Failing miserably but trying. All for this cute, little doggy.

And he said please. You ignore the way it warmed you, his tone so…. genuine.

Manners, sincere or not, in the face of danger? You have to respect that.

“It’s a javelin, actually, but I agree to your terms.” Your grip slackens. He might be a wimp, but you have to give it to him. He’s got balls.

A flicker of relief crosses his face, and you both comply with your instructions. In spite of his obvious fear, you roll your eyes as he unzips his bag unnecessarily slower than you meant him to, throwing you a look.

On second thought, he’s either really brave or really stupid. It’s fifty-fifty at this point.

Joel pulls out an aluminum can. It glints in the light as he holds it up and tosses it to you. You catch it easily, inspecting it in your hands.

“Now will you let my dog go⎼Boy!” His scream tears through the barn.

You’re already composed. Uncoiling like a snake, you seize your spear and swing, all in one motion. He lunges for you, but you’re too far. He hits the ground.

Groaning in pain, he berates himself. He should have known; they had no reason to trust each other, so of course this stranger, this psycho, would betray him. He tries to brush it off, the false sense of security dissipating, the relief replaced with crushing betrayal and horror. 

This is what the surface is like? His chest clenches. He can’t breath, but this isn’t like when he freezes up on a monster. At least, not those monsters. This is worse. So much worse.

The net rips, then a pained grunt. Joel shields his eyes, burying his face in his hands as tears trail down his dirt-smudged cheeks. His heart thunders in his ears as he prepares for the inescapable sound of Boy’s pained yelps, the squelch of metal piercing flesh. He chokes down a sob.

He only knew Boy for less than two days, but within that timespan he bared his soul to the animal. He probably knew him better than his own colony. In the short time they had together, he became his best friend⎼

Okay, ew. What is licking him?

“Boy?” Joel groans, flinching away as the dog bombards him with wet kisses. “Wait, you’re not dead?”

You step into the light, javelin in hand as you snort, “Of course not. Did you think I was gonna kill him?”

Yes. Joel sits up and cradles Boy to his chest, gawking at you.

You glare at him, almost offended. “I’m not a monster.”

No. No you are not.

Decked in a faded blue jacket, you stand relaxed, spear perched over your shoulder (or a jav⎼java-something). Your eyes glint in the sunlight like steel, hard and piercing, with dark circles under them. You watch him with a slight frown. And like him, there’s smudges of dirt on your face and clothes, but you manage to make it look cool and purposeful.

You don’t look like a monster, but you kind of acted like one. Joel is conflicted.

He opens his mouth to respond, but he's not sure what to say in this situation, overwhelmed by a cocktail of emotions that he’s still coming down from. Before he conjures an appropriate response (is there even one?), you're shouldering your backpack and slipping through the gap. Joel rushes to his feet. “Hey, wait!”

You continue up the hill, not bothering to turn to him as you purse your lips. “Oh. You’re still here.”

“Yeah, I’m ‘still here’! You held my dog hostage; kind of hard to get over,” he grumbles, panting as he trudges after you with Boy at his heels. You’re faster than you look. “So⎼uh⎼where you heading?”

“Away.”

He nods almost sage-like, wringing his hands together. “Cool, cool. So mysterious,” He pauses, inhaling deeply. His voice, now deeper and a bit more relaxed, comes in a rush as he asks, “Is there any chance we could go with you?”

You freeze, and Joel almost crashes into your back. You whirl around and suddenly you’re faced to face, but you’re too astonished by his question to care that he’s in your personal bubble.

His breathes come in heaves. His eyes are big and round, brown and bright with… hope?

It occurs to you that this guy, who hasn’t even given you his name, is a loser. A hopeful, naive loser.

And it’s for that reason you come to a decision⎼you’ll entertain him. 

“Where are you going?”

“West,” Joel’s shoulders hunch, his voice self-assured as he adds, “to the coast.”

Yeah... fuck that. 

You turn to walk away. “No.”

“Wait!”

You glower at him, stopping him in his tracks. “Dude, we got what we wanted. I got food, you got your dog. End of transaction.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, like he’s debating how far he can test you. He seems to think better of it as his shoulders sag and he caves, “Fine, I’ll head west without you. I can do it.” The last part he says more to himself before turning on his heel, starting in the direction opposite of you.

You nod. This is good, for the both of you. And safer, you tell yourself as you turn to begin your trek again. You’re two strangers in the apocalypse; you don’t know who he is, where he’s been, and, from your experience, it’s best to travel alone. It’s inconspicuous, efficient and⎼

Where the hell is he going?

You halt, squinting as you watch him hike away from the west coast. “Hey!”

He looks at you over his shoulder, his face surprised but expectant. Hopeful. He reminds you of a puppy being called over by their owner.

He thinks you’re caving into him.

Well, jokes on you, loser. You raise an eyebrow, “You know that’s not West, right?”

“Oh,” Joel’s eyes widen, clearing his throat. Boy woofs and he shoots him a withered look, altering his trajectory. “I knew that.”

“That’s not West either.”

He switches directions again.

You shake your head. “No.“

And again.

“Nope.”

Joel’s face reddens, unable to meet your eyes as he stops trying so he doesn’t further humiliate himself.

You make your way over to him, rolling your eyes. He seems to make you do that a lot. “Okay, how much food you got on you?”

“Enough to last me a week? Why⎼”

That’s all you needed to hear.

“Then it’s settled,” You decide, clapping him on the shoulder. He winces. “You share your rations with me, and I’ll help you get to the West coast.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback as you begin your trek once again, gesturing him to follow you. You feel his eyes on your back. “Really?”

“Really. You are a food source. Also I’m pretty sure you’d die before getting halfway.” You add, unabashed.

He frowns, unsure whether to be grateful or not. He decides on the latter. “Oh…thanks anyway?”

“You're really not from around here, are you?” You pause, looking back at him.

He scratches the back of his neck. “No. Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully. So free advice,” You, with a hand on your hip and tone clipped, gesture up and down at his⎼well⎼everything. “Try not to let anyone know you’re a newb. Might keep you alive.” With that, you start heading West, not bothering to see if he’s comprehended the note you bestowed on him.

Joel glances down at himself before trailing after you. “Good to know.”

AN: I want to make it clear: I would never eat a dog, you would never eat a dog, no one would ever eat. A. Dog. That was a joke for this part 1. I even wrote emphasis on your character’s hesitation. It’s just that this is the apocalypse, so it’s safe to assume that survivors are driven into corners, desperate and have to make some hard choices.

The end dialogue is reference to @teenwolffanclub-me ​TW rewrite bc i love it and them so if you like Dylan O’ Brien and Stiles pls read their shit. <333

This part is a slow starter, but I don’t want to rush this, your intro and your development. But, now that you’ve finally met, hopefully the rest won’t seem any slower than the beginning.

I’ve never wrote for a lone survivor kind of character before. I hope you enjoyed the intro nonetheless!

I think I’ll forgo the 7 parts idea, but that’s a goal.

Part 2 in progress.

Also, how to get a beta reader??

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Ten

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.  

Chapters: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Eleven]

Virgil shoves his fingers into his hair, burying his head in his hands.

“He must take after Mom, dammit.” He wants to swear a lot worse than that, but even as tired as he is, it feels inappropriate when John himself is dozing lightly just the other side of the room. “He’s got her blood type after all,” Virgil rambles on, “and the rest of us inherited Dad’s but I thought at least one of us would be a match for...” His fingers scrub hard through his locks, mussing his hair about, incredibly frustrated. “I can't believe how unlucky this is.” Virgil  blows out a hard frustrated breath, “He’s gonna have to go to Melbourne, but the risk of infection out there is so much greater and….”

Virgil’s sore and tired and his spine feels like there’s still a massive needle in it, and there the oppressive, crushing guilt resting on his shoulders that he’s the most medically competent member of International Rescue and yet he still can’t help his own brother. Virgil’s fingers are shaking and he sounds just so genuinely distraught over the whole thing that no one would blame him if he wanted to cry.

“I feel like I’m sending him to his grave, Star.” Virgil manages, soft and strained, “I... I don’t know what to do...”

“Test mine,” Virgil looks up at her like she might have gone mad, and Star just shrugs as nonchalantly as possible in their situation, “See if I’m a match for John.”

Virgil just shakes his head, reluctant.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” He tries to let her down gently, “I’m worried about how the test might disrupt your venous system, particularly as it winds all around your heart. After that little fainting spell of yours yesterday . Plus if your heart rate speeds up because you’re in pain and you still haven’t recovered from gravity...”

"But if I'm a match it could save John, right?" She points out, and it's hard to argue with that really.

"It could,” He says, though he shakes his head with it, “but without any genetic relationship the chances of you being a match are, like, one in three hundred, even if you are the same blood type and I don’t want to put you through the whole process for such a slim chance. It could be dangerous...“

"Virgil,” Star interrupts, “I know. This is me giving you my informed consent. Just do it." 

Virgil watches her for a long, long moment. Then sighs. 

“One in three hundred.” He reminds her, then makes his way wearily across the room to set up another test. He glances over a John on the way past, his expression skipping between scared and miserable. His brother needs someone’s healthy, matching marrow or he’s probably going to die. Star’s might be that match. It’s worth a shot. “Can you hop up here for me…? Same process, lay on your side and try and make yourself comfy with your knees as close to your chest as you can get them.”

“Well,” Star gives him a tight smile as she climbs up onto the bed and lies on her side. “This can’t be that much worse than being stabbed, right?” 

Privately, Virgil thinks she has a very different pain scale to anyone else. Which explains a lot, really.

What she doesn’t mention is bullet wounds and torture, days in the forefront of a gang war, having a tongue so tightly sealed behind her lips grown men resorted to trying to cut answers out of her, and always coming out on top. She survived that, she could last a simple test. But… that was a lifetime ago, and she hadn’t exactly enjoyed it at the time. At least this time, the cause was worth it. 

She pulls her knees up to her chest, and John’s sweatshirt is so big that she has to hike it up into a clump at the front for Virgil to have any chance of finding her bare back. Virgil, a frown on his face, reaches over to where her hands are tucked under her face and clips a monitor to her finger. 

“It’ll be okay, Virgil,” she tells him, and looks away. The breath she draws between her teeth shudders, and the monitor spikes unhappily. “It’s all going to be fine.” 

The only answer Virgil gives her is the rip of sterile packages opening, the snap of fresh gloves on his hands. In that moment, Star is both glad and disappointed that she can’t see his face. A cold hand rucked her shirt up the rest of the way and came to rest on her hip. 

“You ready?” 

Star just nods. 

He numbs the area first, like he’d done with the others, but it still takes her breath away a little, and Star chokes back her gasp by putting the base of her thumb in her mouth and biting it. Virgil is murmuring his tried and true litany of comforting words, but Star can’t make out a single one, reducing his voice to a background hum. She holds completely and utterly still, breathing through the burn, not realising her eyes have squeezed until it’s over and Virgil is holding something over the point of entry. Virgil’s fingers press to her carotid artery, watching her pulse racing across the monitor like they might somehow tell him different stories. 

When Star opens her eyes, breathing slightly uneven and sweat gathering under her eyes, she can see John looking at her from his bed, a frown tugging at his face. 

“Alright?” Virgil is asking, he’s still facing her, so he doesn’t immediately notice that his other patient is awake. “You did really well. Gonna be alright while I go test this?” He’s reluctant to leave her while her heart is still tachycardic.

“What’s going on?” The soft voice from behind him nearly makes Virgil jump. It’s just as well he’s set all pointy objects and the little vial of precious marrow aside in a metal tray so that he can’t drop them. Virgil turns, finding John propping himself up on his elbows, weak and a bit shaky, but doing a lot better than he had been the last Virgil had seen those blue-green eyes of his open.

“Good Morning Sunshine.” Virgil grins at him, relieved, “Nice to see you up.”

John blinks slowly at him, processing the shape of Star curled on her side on the opposite bed. She shoots him a thumbs up to reassure him. Awkward skinny fingers make a fist with his own thumb poking up out the top, to return the gesture. It’s a little ridiculous.

“We’re just checking everyone’s bone marrow for matches for you,” Virgil seems to decide there’s no point in telling his brother anything but the bleak truth, though he leaves out just how many mismatches they’ve already had. “Star volunteered hers just now for testing, think you can keep an eye on her for fifteen minutes while I have a look at the sample? She’s got to keep herself still and, here,” He folds a heat pack into her hand, “Apply this to where the ache is the worst, ok?”

John nods agreeably, watching Virgil limp (why is he limping?) across the room as he shuffles himself slowly into a sitting position.

The astronaut has rapidly lost weight while he’s been bed bound and ill and his arms are rapidly beginning to resemble toothpicks covered with a thin layer of wasted muscle, making the movement a bit of a struggle, but not impossible. He looks much better sitting up. His hair needs a good wash though, and he could definitely use a clean set of clothes.

There’s a glass of water staring at him from the bedside table. He reaches out and grips the slippery glass with both hands, taking small, cautious sips to try and clear his dry throat. When he doesn’t immediately throw it back up, John counts that as a victory.

“You need to eat something,” Star tells him, and it's so stupidly familiar that it manages to bring shaky smiles to both their faces. Star wants to sit up, and Virgil is otherwise occupied with his back to her, but the trembling in her arms and John’s pointed look team up to keep her in place. 

John’s eyes dart to the monitor Star is still attached to. He has enough experience with gravity to know when something isn’t entirely right.

“You didn’t have to do this.” He sounds ever so sad about that. Star brings up the smile again.

“I know, but you can’t exactly tell me you’re surprised.” 

Something that might have been a laugh shakes John’s frail shoulders, his thin fingers gripping the bed weakly. 

“Are you- how are you feeling?” Star tries to ask. 

John looks ready to try lying to her in response, or he might shock them and be honest, but he doesn’t get very far into either option before something by Virgil clatters, and the darker Tracy starts muttering. 

It doesn’t sound all bad. 

“Star you’re- she’s a match!”

“What does that mean?” John, having slept through the morning, has missed out on a lot. He blinks up at Virgil celebrating, confused. “Her bone marrow is the same as mine, somehow?”

“Her stem cells are very similar to yours,” Virgil tries to make it clear, even as he’s collapsing deeply relieved into the chair by John’s bed. “She’s a match!” He barks out a slightly delirious, very relieved laugh. “Ah, sorry.” He notices John is still looking confused over his brother’s seemingly excessive joy. “So, stem cells are, like, special cells that get produced by bone marrow, that’s, uh the spongy tissue found in the centre of some bones, the stuff we took a sample from last night, if, um, you remember that.” From the flicker of a wince that comes across John’s face, it’s clear that he does, at least in part.

“Stem cells turn into three different types of blood cells when they’re in your bloodstream.” He goes on, wanting to make sure everything is very clear to his ill brother, “The red kind carry oxygen around the body, the white ones help fight infection and there are also these things called platelets, which help stop bleeding. All three of which in your body have been badly irradiated by the uranium exposure.” John nods, quiet and serious like he’s taking it all in. It’s perhaps a bit simple of an explanation for him, who already has a good knowledge of the types of blood cells, but it’s important to Virgil that he understands completely. There’s a squeak of the feet of Virgil’s chair as he scooches it in closer to his brother

“So, we need to do an allogeneic transplant of these stem cells, to replace your damaged ones with healthy ones, got that? To do this we need to get hold of some of these healthy cells, but they also have to carry a special genetic marker, something called a human leukocyte antigen, or HLA, that's identical or very similar to that of the person receiving the transplant, or else there’s a very high chance of the transplant failing. Usually these stem cells come from family members but, uh, I don’t quite know how to tell you this but…”

“None of you are a match.” The realization dawns on John, fearful, combined with the fact Virgil had just admitted all his brothers had had the horrible test. “So you had to look elsewhere and…?” His eyes flick over to Star, where she’s just starting to sit up on the bed, a heat pack clamped to her back. “Star… is?”

Star grins at John once she’s upright, all teeth. Her hair isn’t contained by the plait any more, giving her the slightly deranged look of having been dragged through a bush backwards. She’s breathing slightly heavier than she should be from sitting up, propping herself upright on her arms, but she doesn’t seem the least bit sorry about any of it.  

“Yeah.” Virgil sounds so deeply relieved by this, it’s not hard to think he might cry. “Her tissue type happens to be a match for your tricky one, so, lucky for you, she can donate some of hers to you. Uh… If she chooses to, that is.” He looks up at her as well, his brown eyes liquid. “You do have a choice in this.” Virgil points out, though, if the alternative is John dying, they both it’s not really much of a choice at all.

“Ah!” He holds up a hand to prevent her from insisting that yes! Of course, she’ll do it! Star is halfway through what would have been a somewhat elated agreement in her mind when Virgil cuts her off, and she very patiently shuts her mouth and lets him finish. “I want you to understand the risks before you agree. You and John. It might be… I… you don’t have to go through this either John. If you don’t want to, if you think it’s too dangerous and your quality of life...” His voice is thick, a little shaky as he trails off. The idea his brother might not want to do the risky transplant, even if it could save his life, fills him with a kind of helplessness that he’s never had to face before. There’s always some way to rescue people, but John might think it’s too much to even try. Virgil’s fingers clasp tightly in his lap, trying to stop his hands from trembling. 

“Star’s poor health-” Star snorts in disagreement, but shuts up when Virgil glares, “-your recent surgery, and the fact you live in space so much of the time.” Virgil sounds a little bitter about that, “They all complicate things.” He takes a breath. “I’ve got to give you options, John, before you decide, ok?”

“Option one,” He starts with what he thinks is the best, “We run regular tests on Star, until she’s healthy enough to donate some of her bone marrow’s stem cells to you. Sounds simple, really isn’t.” He shakes his head again. Someone really needs to get that man a coffee. “Option two, we can put you on the list at the Royal Melbourne and find you another donor, already in full health, but that could take weeks, and we risk exposing you to a great deal more germs than exist on our little Island. Either of the first two are going to be long, drawn out fights for your life.” He can’t lie to him, “It could be up to years of being unwell. Option three,” he takes a ragged breath here, steeling himself, “You can choose not to pursue treatment.”

“And what would that mean?” John asks tentatively.

“It means there’d likely be a marked decline in your health, over a period of months or, perhaps weeks, and…” Virgil shakes his head, “You could get better or…”

“Or I might die.” John finishes off for him, his voice light like that’s perfectly reasonable. “Thanks for letting me know Virgil, but I’m not just going to sit around and wait to get well or not.” Virgil looks absolutely miserable about the idea that John might not follow his advice. It feels selfish to worry them any more than he already is. It might be his body and his choice, but John Tracy’s not a man who gives it up so easily. “Even if it’s going to be a lot longer and harder, I think… I think I should take the treatment.”

Virgil looks like he might topple out of his chair from relief, and, with the way he sways, heady, he nearly does.

“I… you’re taking this very calmly.” Not that he should have expected much different from the most composed and patient of his brothers. “I’m really grateful you’ve got such a positive outlook on it.” Virgil’s got this fear that, once it’s all sunk in, John might break down later though. “You can change your mind at any point, none of us will judge you for it. You probably have a lot of questions.” John nods like his head is heavy, but he still seems alert enough that Virgil, selfishly, kind of wants to get all this over with.

“What does Star donating cells mean for her?” He asks, because of course he’s thinking of her over the massive, terrifying threat over his own head. Virgil shuffles around in his chair to face Star, the explanation is more for her benefit than John’s at least. 

“John,” Star tries to scold, but submits at the look Virgil shoots her. 

“Well,” He begins, “The whole thing is a long and complicated process. Harvesting stem cells will involve a slightly longer procedure than the one we did to collect a small sample. We would have to remove around a litre of bone marrow from your hip bone using a similar needle and syringe to the one we used before. The needle may have to be inserted into several parts of your hip to ensure we get enough bone marrow. We, Brains and I that is, would do this under a general anaesthetic, so you'll be asleep and won't feel any pain while it's carried out, but the area where the needle is inserted will probably be painful afterwards and you'll have marks on your skin where the needles were inserted on either side.” Virgil is careful and clinical at explaining but the sympathy is bright in his expression. Star doesn’t care for it. She might be able to save John, she doesn’t need Virgil’s sympathy. “To boost the number of stem cells in your blood, we’ll give you a medication that stimulates their production about four days before we schedule in the transplant. On the fifth day, a blood test will be carried out to check there are enough circulating stem cells, and if there are, we’ll do the extraction.”

“Sounds like fun,” Star says dryly, giving the two boys a clumsy shrug. “I’m in.” Virgil just nods, like, despite his worries, he hadn’t really expected any different.

“Before we can do a transplant for you, John, we’ll need to check a few things on your end as well. Transplants tend to be more successful in people who are in good general health, despite their underlying condition, but the radiation poisoning isn’t exactly being gentle on you. I need a blood test to check how well your liver and kidneys are working, another electrocardiogram for your heart, and a CT scan to check the condition of organs like the lungs and liver.”

“Then,” And this is going to be the real bombshell for him, “We’ll have to do a round of what’s called conditioning treatment. It’s a course of chemotherapy, in a high dose, to prepare your body for transplant.” He says it ever so quickly, as if to get it over with. “The chemo will destroy your existing irradiated bone marrow cells, to make room for the transplanted tissue, and it’ll stop your immune system working almost completely,” Which sounds ludicrous when the astronaut’s weak immune system is endangering him so to begin with, “which will reduce the risk of the transplant being rejected.”

John takes a long moment to process that, his fingers wandering up to the fine ginger strands on the top of his head. Star watches the trail of his hand, stomach bottoming out on his behalf.

“It might not fall out.” Virgil offers, optimistically, knowing that while his brother is hardly vain, losing all your hair is still a distressing experience. “Some patients undergoing chemo do keep all their hair.”

“But it’s not likely.”

Virgil shakes his head.

“It’s not likely.” He doesn’t want to go into the whole slew of side effects the chemo could have right now, he doesn’t think he’s got the strength to tell his brother how he’s going to feel tired and sick and weak all the time, even worse than he does now.

“And after the chemo?” John asks, looking like his energy levels are fading fast. It’s almost a shame Virgil’s going to have to ban him from caffeine for the foreseeable. “What then?”

“The transplant will be carried out a day or two after conditioning has finished.” Virgil reaches out to flick a distracting monitor off on his left, “The stem cells will be passed slowly into your body through a central line.” He gestures to the PICC implant in the crook of John’s elbow, protected by a tube-like section of sleeve that has been slipped over it at some point he’s been asleep, to keep everything safe and sterile. “The process will probably take a couple of hours. The transplant itself won't be at all painful and you'll be awake throughout.”

“And recovery, after that?” John tucks an elbow beneath him, trying to keep himself propped up for this important conversation, “What should I be expecting?”

“Maybe we should talk about that later.” Virgil’s keyed onto the fact his brother is rapidly drooping, like a plant that needs watering. “If you get a few more hours sleep for me I might even let you back up to your bedroom.” John’s going to be seeing far too much of these four walls soon enough, while he’s still got some strength in him to have his own independence, Virgil wants to give him it.

“I want to know, Virg.” John protests, even as his brother gets his hands under his back and helps him lie back down, ginger head sinking into the pillow. There’s a poorly disguised yawn from the spaceman that doesn’t help his case. “I need to know what might happen, what about the side effects?”

“Are you really going to remember it all if we have this conversation now?” Virgil hovers over him, concerned. It’s a bit of a redundant question though, and John Tracy just raises an eyebrow at him. Even like this his memory is impeccable. Sometimes, Virgil thinks, his brother is more computer than man. He wishes, ever so briefly, that he was fully computerised, protected from the fragility of the human body. “Ok, ok.” He concedes, “Once the transplant is finished, you'll have to stay down here, as germ-free as possible, for a week or so while we wait for the stem cells to settle into your bone marrow and start producing new blood cells.” Virgil is always careful to say we when talking about John’s treatment plan, and the astronaut can’t help but be grateful for it. It makes him feel just that little less alone in all this. Star can see that sick relief at his brother’s words and wishes she could hold his hand, not entirely sure she won't end up on her ass if she tries getting up.

“You’ve got to understand, bone marrow transplants are complex treatments that carry a significant risk of serious complications.” Virgil knots and unknots his fingers in a rapid, ever shifting pattern of anxiety. “You’re young and Star is a strong match, so that improves your chances. You’ll probably feel weak, and be frequently sick, and you won’t want to eat much.” That doesn’t sound too different to now, but John imagines if Virgil’s talking about it so grimly, it’s only going to get worse. “We’ll try and get you to drink lots of fluids, or, if you can’t keep them down, give you them through a tube running from your nose to your stomach, to prevent malnutrition. You’ll have to have regular blood and platelet transfusions, as you'll have a low number of these, and you’ll be at risk from infection for maybe even a couple of years after this.” John’s eyes flutter closed, that’s a lot.

“Side effects wise, with the transplant, we’re looking at a chance of something called graft versus host disease, or GvHD.” He really does want John to have all the facts, “This sometimes happens in allogeneic transplants, transplants from another person, when the transplanted cells start to attack the other cells in your body. We can give you immunosuppressants for that but…” Reduced immune system. John’s seeing a pattern here. “Other than that, the main danger is from having a further reduced number of blood cells. We’re talking anaemia, excessive bleeding or bruising, and yet more increased risk of infections.” He gives John the first, wry smile of the past thirty minutes, “We’re going to have to wrap you in bubble wrap at this rate Johnny.”

“Scott’s gonna be unbearable.” He groans, in sudden realization, “You guys are gonna get microscoped before you can get within five feet of me.”

Virgil laughs, short and startled, because that’s probably true.

“I’ll try and keep him at bay.” He promises, warmly, “But I do think it’s lucky you’re by far the most patient of us.”

“Mmm.” John doesn’t sound convinced, or perhaps he’s just well on his way back to sleep. “Remind me of that when he’s getting on my nerves.”

“Will do.” Virgil ever so gently tucks the covers back up over his sibling’s chest, his voice dropping much softer and lower as he senses him slipping away to sleep. “Night John.”

“Mmm… S’night Virg…”

[therainroguefanfiction]

☁ Drifting Away (Giotto) #03

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Previous

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☁ Relax ✗ Dream ✗ Reason ☁

You woke up around midnight and couldn’t get back to sleep. You laid in the unfamiliar bed, staring blankly at the white ceiling above you, trying to figure out the current situation. Your mind had relaxed a little since you had gotten some sleep, but the pressure was still there. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to fit the pieces together – you didn’t have enough of them to work with.

When the sun began to rise, you pushed yourself out of bed and left the darkened room. Your feet took over as you began to think about your options, not paying attention to your surroundings as you walked. Your mind was going over every little detail you had managed to pick up so far, even the unimportant ones. You had to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

In the end, it all seemed so hopeless.

You groaned in frustration, kneeling down in the middle of the hallway with your hands clutching tightly onto your hair, eyes closed. You had gone over everything so many times in your head. You felt worn out but the only thing you could do was search for more pieces to this damned puzzle. You had to keep searching for clues, it was the only way that you were going to get the whole picture. You knew that, but you didn’t even know where to begin.

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you looked up, meeting the concerned eyes of Giotto. “Are you alright?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek in his gloved hand, “You don’t look like you’ve slept.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, looking away from the male. You didn’t know what it was about this man, but he always made it seem like everything would be okay, no matter how bad the situation was. “I couldn’t sleep, but I’m fine.”

“You need to relax, let your mind rest.” He stood up straight after taking your hand to pull you to your feet, “Once you begin to relax, I’m sure something will come to you. Over stressing your mind will only cause you harm.” He spoke as if he already knew all of the details of your situation. Had you explained everything to him? You couldn’t remember. It felt as if you were hungover.

Giotto grasped your hand, lightly pulling you along down the hall. He brought you back to your room, gently pushing you toward the bed. “Get some sleep,” Offering you a gentle smile, he left the room.

You stared at the closed door, blinking curiously. If you hadn’t been so curious as to why he was being so nice to you, you would have scowled at his treatment. You could have been a spy or an assassin, an enemy, yet he still allowed you into his home without any guard watching you. He was treating you as if you were an old friend or something. Was he this trusting with everybody?

A sigh passed your lips as you fell back onto the silky sheets, eyes sliding closed. You were out like a light.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

‘Where am I?’, your thoughts echoed throughout the darkness. Memories flashed by at a rapid pace, blurring so much that you couldn’t even make out what they were memories of. It was like a vision of your life, all squished into one. Why were you seeing this?

“Oi,” The voice echoed. It was male and… sounded strangely like Gokudera. “Oi!“

You tried to call out to him but your voice wouldn’t work.

“Figure it out,” he called. “There isn’t much time left.“

Figure what out? Not much time? Time for what?

“Don’t let him out of your sight. You have to save him.“

‘Who? Save who?’, you screamed in your head, desperately trying to make your voice work.

“Good luck,” the voice whispered before slowly fading away.

You jolted up in the bed, one hand clutching your chest where your rapidly beating heart lay. The other clutched your head in a futile attempt to stop the sharp pains. Your body was covered in sweat and your breathing was heavy like you had just run a marathon a hundred times over.

What the hell was happening to you?

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

It had been about three hours since your odd dream and you hadn’t been able to focus on anything since, not even the clues you were supposed to be looking for. You couldn’t stop thinking about the voice that had invaded your dream. Did it mean anything? Or was it just the result of your overworked mind? Maybe if you figured out the meaning of that damned dream, you’d be able to figure out what was going on. Something in the back of your mind told you that the two were related.

“Are you alright?”

You snapped out of your thoughts to see the Primo standing in front of me, looking down with worry laced eyes. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been out of it since you woke up,” he paused, “Has something happen?”

“It’s nothing really,” you forced a smile that you knew he didn’t believe.

Giotto took a seat next to you on the leather sofa that sat in his office, resting his warm hand on your shoulder. “If something is on your mind, you can talk to me. I’m here to listen,” his voice was soft and calming. He was acting as if he were afraid you’d break if he rose his voice.

You scowled, using all of your strength not to say something rude. He had been kind to you all this time and it’d be wrong to snap at him for something as small as that.

Though you really hated being treated like a child.

“My guardians are returning today. I’d like you to meet them,” he murmured softly after a few minutes of silence.

You tensed. Meeting the guardians… didn’t that include that damned Daemon Spade?

He sensed this, tightening his grip on your shoulder, “You don’t have to worry. They are all good people.”

Daemon Spade was far from good. The bastard was worse than Mukuro as far as you knew. Well, all you had to do was avoid him at all costs without looking suspicious, right? ‘Piece of cake…’

Giotto led you into the living room. There were several couches and tables scattered throughout the room, as well as rows of bookcases filled to the brim with various types of books, each looking brand new and quite elegant. He instructed you to have a seat while he met up with the others and informed them that you’d be waiting. Of course, you weren’t too happy as you took a seat on one of the couches, foot propped up on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You could deal with all of the guardians, even Alaude, but Spade was out of the question.

Mukuro you could get along with, but Spade was ten times worse.

You ignored the sound of various sets of feet and hushed whispers as the group entered the room. Maybe if you pretended you didn’t hear them, they’d go away and leave you alone. Of course, that was a pretty slim chance.

“Y/N,” Giotto called softly. You could ignore the others, but not him. You slowly moved your head in his direction, glancing at the guardians standing behind him. He motioned towards each individual guardian as he voiced their names. And, alas, who would be the last person he introduced? That damned Spade who smirked at you as if you were his new toy. You could feel the chills go down your spine but you refused to show that to him.

After some coaxing, you stood up from the sofa and shook each guardian’s hand. even Alaude’s, but you hesitated when you reached Spade. You stood in front of each other, eyes locked in an undeclared staring match. You could feel your hands clenching at your sides, eyes narrowed in annoyance. That damned smile and the look in his eyes, his aura, hell, even the way he stood was enough to cause goosebumps across your skin.

“Kufufu~” How could that laugh be even creepier coming from him than Mukuro? He held his hand out, smirk widening only slightly as his eyes bore into your own, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Your body tensed up. He knew. You could tell just by looking into his eyes… Daemon Spade knew who you were. He knew about you belonging to Tsuna’s family. He knew you didn’t belong here. Did that also mean he knew how you got here? Or rather, how to get back?

He chuckled again, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Your eye twitched as you slipped your hand into his, gripping it as tight as you could. Was this bastard a mind reader or something? His grip tightened to the same degree, accepting your unspoken challenge. Both of you stood there for several moments, glaring at one another while trying to break the other’s hand. It wasn’t until one of the guardians spoke that you remembered the others’ presence.

You clicked your tongue, pulling away from the illusionist bastard and averting your gaze to the side. How could you show that you knew, and greatly disliked, him in front of the primo? Now he’d really be suspicious of you.

“Do you know them?” Asari, the rain guardian, stepped forward with his gaze on Spade.

The bastard stared at you for a minute before cocking his head to the side and glancing at the male. “No.”

Your gaze snapped to him, staring in disbelief. He hadn’t told on you. Why? His eyes returned to your own and he smirked. His look said it all – ‘this isn’t over.’

You scowled, glaring at his back as he left the room. ‘That bastard… he’s going to hold it over my head, I just know it. That’s a Hibari move, damn it!’ As you were attempting to burn holes into the door with your glare, you failed to notice the curious and cautious looks you were being sent by the guardians.

You scoffed, crossing your arms and muttering under your breath before turning around. You blinked, suddenly remembering that you weren’t alone. Rubbing the back of your head nervously, your lips twitched up into a forced smile.

Lampo and Alaude looked as if they couldn’t care less, not even paying attention to you. G was glaring at you, his eyes full of mistrust. Asari was watching you curiously, along with Knuckle. Giotto was watching you, but his expression was blank. This had you worried more than anything. Had you blown it? What would happen if the Primo threw you out? Or worse, what if he deemed you as an enemy?

Sensing your worry, a small smile made its way onto Giotto’s lips. It was.. reassuring.

“Y/N?” Asari questioned softly, stepping towards you with a small smile. “Do you know Daemon Spade? The two of you seemed pretty… friendly.”

“Friendly?” you muttered, scowling at the thought of being friends with him. You quickly shook your head and forced a smile, though it probably came off as more of a grimace. “Nope, I don’t know him. He just… resembled an old friend of mine.” Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. He did resemble Mukuro. Or rather, Mukuro resembled him. Either way, the two looked a lot alike and both shared the power of the mist, along with those damned illusions. What was so enjoyable about mind fucking someone? You’ll never understand it.

“Oh, I see,” he said thoughtfully. A softer smile grazed his lips as he closed his eyes, “I’m happy to meet you. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

You smiled back, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Asari-san.”

He blinked in surprise before chuckling softly, his hand curled against his mouth, “No need to be so formal, Y/N!”

Just a few words and a wave of calm spread through the room. The rain guardian truly was amazing and, even though Takeshi was a very good rain guardian, the first generation took the cake. It sounded kind of mean, now that you thought about it, but it is true.

Alaude scoffed and turned around, heading towards the door. Lampo followed close behind. A grin made its way onto your lips as you turned towards them, calling out their names. Both stopped and looked at you.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know both of you better, as well.” You grinned, the corners of your lips twitching. Oh, you couldn’t wait to bug the shit out of the first generation lightning and cloud guardians. It’d be even more fun than messing with Hibari.

Alaude narrowed his eyes at you before turning back around and leaving the room.

Lampo ignored you completely and followed Alaude out the door, turning down a different corridor. You sniggered to yourself, letting your mind begin to concoct some beautiful ways to annoy the pair. It shouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered.

“I’m sorry about them.” Asari apologized, a somewhat sheepish smile on his face. “They aren’t very social.”

“Ahh, no worries,” you waved him off, “I’m used to it, actually. A friend of mine isn’t very social, but it’s fun to annoy him.”

Asari laughed lightly at the comment. You two were going to be good friends, you could see it already~

“Che,” G moved forward, getting into your face and grabbing the front of your shirt. He stared down at you, standing about a foot or so taller. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re after, but you better watch yourself.”

“G,” Giotto called softly, the undertone of command holding tightly onto the name.

G scoffed again, glaring at you as he backed up a little, “I’ll be watching you. The first mistake you make, you’ll be done for.”

You scowled as he left the room. He was just as protective of his boss as Gokudera, but he wasn’t as loud or reckless. Was this the age difference? It was the same with Asari. He was just as easy going as Takeshi, and as calming as well, but he was much more mature and not at all oblivious. The similarities were definitely something and they stuck out so much that the differences were over-shadowed.

Noticing your silence, Asari stepped forward, his eyes worried as his hands gently gripped your shoulders, “Please don’t take what G said to heart. He’s only worried about the safety of Giotto and the rest of the family. You must understand, it’s hard to trust someone who appeared out of nowhere, someone who knows about our family, and appears so out of place. And a foreigner, as well.”

The words should have been hurtful or insulting, but coming from Asari, with the soft way that he spoke them, you just couldn’t get angry nor feel hurt. You could see the surprise on his face when you smiled, “It’s fine. I completely understand. I know the protection of your boss comes first. And you may not believe me, but I would never hurt the Primo or his guardians… except maybe Spade…” you muttered the last part under your breath, looking away towards the ground with your hand on your chin in thought. He was an infuriating man, after all.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” he attracted your attention again, “I trust you. I can see no lie in your eyes nor can I sense any hostile intent. I fully trust you, but it may take a bit more coaxing to get the others to believe in you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he looked taken back at that. “What I mean is, as long as I have the Primo’s trust, it doesn’t matter if the others don’t believe me. The only person I want to trust in me is the Primo, and I’ll do what I must to gain his trust. However, it does make me happy to know that you trust me, Asari.”

“You have a good heart, that much I can be sure of,” he commented softly, pulling you into a hug before pulling away and leaving the room, “I’ll talk to you later, Y/N!”

Knuckle smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up, before following Asari.

You smiled at the closed door, feeling a wave of happiness rush over you. You had been accepted by the first-generation guardian of rain… you never would have guessed that it would make you feel so happy.

Giotto was watching you intently, a soft smile on his lips.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

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[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga Chapter 116 Review: Holding Out for a Hero

Thoughts

You probably know what I’m going to talk about but first, a moment of levity.   It’s definite: Flashy Flash has a face that he only pulls when someone calls him on his crap.  I love this face of his and his subsequent refusal to actually own up to being wrong. It’s so him. 

The face of a man not actually willing to concede to being wrong

Anyway, let’s leave him and Saitama running round in circles deep underground and move to where the action is actually happening. 

In my review of Chapter 111, my one wish in the tags was that the support heroes left safely.   Alas, my wish was not granted.

What went wrong?  Well, it looks like the support heroes reprioritised their mission.  From Chapter 93, there was no question about what was more important -- bring the hostage BACK.  

No ambiguity about what was important

It’s reiterated in Chapter 111, both when Sekingal asks Child Emperor if the latter doesn’t want to retreat now that the main objective has been achieved and when Child Emperor insists that the support heroes stick to their mission. 

But the support heroes are heroes first, which means that they’re individualists with a strong sense of responsibility and a weak sense of obedience to someone’s say-so.

And so they paused to mop up the escaping monsters and seal the exits (seeing Gearsper using both dowsing rods and a pendulum to pinpoint them is super neat -- normally that’s pure hokum, but in the hands of an actual psychic, they’re legitimate tools) before falling back.    Alas, it looks like either Sekingal has no command presence to insist on immediate retreat or he’s gotten caught up in the mood of the moment.

This is seriously one of the cutest panels this chapter

And then it was too late.

Murata brings across so well what a cat looks like from the perspective of the birds, mammals and amphibians beset by one (please keep cats indoors, thanks).  Sneaky. Unexpected movements.  Terrifyingly long, sharp claws.  Too many teeth. Cruel. Persistent.  We have here a monster cat that can bat heroes around like mice and layers sapience and malice on top. 

A face fit for any horror story. Keep your cats inside, folks.  Wildlife will thank you.

I really hate seeing the support heroes torn up so. Sekingal passing Waganma to Food Battler to escape with was an excellent moment -- good, good, you might make a hero yet man, but you need to live first -- but it’s a small bright spot in what has been one of the most ghastly chapters to date.  In particular, I don’t care what bullshit needs to be pulled, but One-Shotter better not die.  To see them all work together and yet be utterly helpless in the face of an enemy far too powerful for them is a grim foreshadowing of yet another confrontation to come.   

why are you bleeding was the most chilling and economical demonstration of Nyan’s power for me -- the monster taking them down with so little fanfare it took them a few seconds to notice

Paradoxically, it’s precisely because Nyan is a cat that the support heroes have any chance. Until he gets his claws on Waganma and rips him apart in front of the helpless heroes, they get to live.     

Can someone come save them first?   

It’s not looking too good.

This better not turn out to be foreshadowing

Meta: Where are all the heroes?

We’re used to the idea by now that no matter what, the support heroes (and even that brat Waganma) won’t die because if nothing else, some hero will show up at the precise moment when all hope appears to be lost.

But where are those heroes? 

Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Or a black one -- we’re not racist

Well, we know that there’s no point in anyone less powerful than a Class S hero show up: they’re just more toys for the cat.   That leaves us with slim pickings as most of the Class S heroes (and Saitama) are deep underground, many locked in mortal combat. 

Of those outside, we know that neither Blast nor Metal Knight will lift a finger to help.  Watchdogman won’t come -- Q City or bust, baby.   Metal Bat and Tank Top Master are both incapacitated at present.  

In decreasing order, the following might turn up to intervene:

Genos: he’s in the right place, and should be heading out soon regardless 

Drive Knight: he’s supposedly lurking around here somewhere. If he’s still mobile and battle-ready, his intervention would be most welcome

Sonic: he was planning to visit Saitama after all.  If he takes on Nyan, it’ll be a case of accidentally doing a good deed. 

The Council of Swordmasters finally make their move.  Left-field and unlikely but would be super awesome.

Or no one comes.  That is also possible. 

Place your bets, folks. 

Edit: 

Eh, fuck it. I’m gonna speculate.   So what I think of the various options

If Genos shows up to this, he will have to find some way to prevail.  Like the G-4 robot, there’s no Saitama to back him up if things don’t go his way. Dr Kuseno won’t be telling him not to worry about losing this time, for he will be dead. Nyan may dislike fights, but a wounded cat is a ferocious beast. To say that this would be a liminal moment, the thinnest possible of lines drawn between can’t and can, is an understatement.  Can he?  As he was at this point in the webcomic, no chance. But this is not the webcomic. In the manga, Genos has gained so much more fighting experience (and equipment) in the last few days, it’s incredible. He’s dealt with super-fast enemies. Cunning enemies. Erratically-moving enemies. Hacky-stabby-slashy ones.  Bitey ones. Super-skilful adaptive ones. Insanely strong ones. Even regenerating ones -- and Nyan is guaranteed to have nine lives.  This monster is all those things rolled into one.  In a draconic package.  Can Genos put everything together -- experience, insight, mental preparedness, physical ability -- into one beautifully deadly package?  And become the hero the rest of the cadre have to tag team because otherwise they’re afraid he’ll kill them too?  I have hopes, but I don’t dare bet on them.  Oh yes, one other good thing about his coming -- he’s someone who has been very serious about actually saving people. I’m sure he’ll look to get a drone to airlift One-Shotter out if no one else. 

Drive Knight is quite the unknown quantity.  We know he’s got to be powerful given his place at S-Class Rank 9, but he’s been so secretive even the Hero Data book is no help.  If he’s been lying completely doggo, then we should see exactly what his tactical transformations are good for -- a cautious, clever fighter should be a total treat.  On the other hand, if he’s been masquerading as G-5, then his tactical transformations are busted and he’ll be at a severe disadvantage against Nyan.  In that case, will he put his life on the line and help anyway?

Sonic lacks the offensive power to kill Nyan, but he can so completely frustrate the beast that it forgets about the heroes it planned to torment long enough for them to make good their escape.  And then we’ll get to see Sonic leave disgruntled at having missed Saitama.  Don’t you dare call him a hero or else. 

Council of Sword Masters.  Now that’s a forlorn hope.  They promised to participate, but the chances of their barging into a hot battlefield in the wake of the heroes (or vermin controllers as they like to call them) is extremely slim.   Still, it would be excellent if they did and show us just why they’re called Sword Masters.

Please no.  I’d quit if no one showed up -- it’s precisely because death is rare that I can afford to invest emotionally in the characters.

[lavendersb]

Summersaults

Connor x reader

words: 1.4k (hoooo boy what happened)

Summary: “Request for something Princess Bride inspired where reader works at the DPD and takes amusement in ordering Connor around who always responds with “as you wish” until they both realize whoops they’ve been catching feelings the whole time“

Working at the DPD was not an easy feat. When you joined a few months ago, you had anticipated some difficulty and knew that you’d need an adjustment period, but as a keen new detective you took the opportunity as soon as it came up.

On one of your first days, Tina had pulled you aside in the break room and explained to you the hierarchy that evolved in the department.

“Look, it’s nothing personal, but you’ll have to work hard to earn your respect” she had said whilst making her coffee “particularly the detectives, they can be quite bossy” she paused, trying to pick her words carefully. She threw a cautious glance towards the bullpen as if paranoid she might have been overheard from your little corner.

“look, it’s nothing big, I’ll do anything. I’m just happy to be here” you said, instantly regretting your words when Tina attempted to supress a cringe.

“yeah, we’ll see how long you last”

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

Two weeks and three days was how long you had lasted. The buzz of a new job had worn off and you had been driven to your wits end by the nightmare that was Gavin Reed. He wasn’t cruel, so to speak, but by god was he annoying. By now, your days consisted of fetching drinks and filing reports for cases you hadn’t even been a part of, you started to feel as though your new job was Gavin’s secretary and not a junior detective. Your life was consumed by running errands for the older members of the department and you had almost resigned yourself to that fate.

Almost.

Connor had joined the DPD two months after you and had and frankly, he was a godsend. The moment Gavin had first ordered the android to bring him a coffee, your troubles were out of the window. Suddenly you were no longer a glorified servant with a shiny detective’s badge, it was Connor who wordlessly took over your mundane chores that had driven you insane these last few months. You should feel bad, you knew how it felt to run around the precinct doing all the little jobs that nobody else wanted to do, but Connor did everything with no complaint. If he wasn’t an unfeeling android, you might have thought that he enjoyed the tasks.

For the first week you had simply left Connor to his own devices. He got along fine at the precinct besides the android related tension that he unknowingly stirred up amongst some of the officers, but soon you found yourself contributing to his workload.

You hadn’t intended to become so demanding, it just sort of happened. It was a Wednesday morning and you were knee deep in a report for a particularly unsurprising case.

“I can literally feel my brain melting” you sighed, running a hand through your hair and rocking back into your chair.

Gavin Scoffed from the desk opposite you “oh really” he peered around the screen in front of him “that’s your problem, not mine”

You shot him an unimpressed look as he chuckled lowly to himself, disappearing back behind the screen. Huffing a little, you threw a look around the bullpen and watched for anything that could distract you from the work in front of you. The shiny coffee machine in the break room winked at you from across the floor and you let out a needy whine at the thought of caffeine. Your need to drink coffee and your need to move as little as possible conflicted in your brain as you sat there dumbly gazing into space, your brain willing you to both stay in your seat and sprint to the break room resulting in the commands cancelling out leaving you motionless.

Then you saw an opportunity, shaped like the new android detective that had taken up residence at your workplace. He walked through the centre of the office clutching a tablet in his slim fingers and his LED blinked between blue and yellow as he studied what was on the screen I front of him.

Before you could stop yourself, you swivelled in your chair to face him “Connor can I ask you a favour”

Connor looked up at you and his LED settled on a brilliant yellow as he looked at you with his content smile

“of course detective, what can I help you with” he said with his usual lilt and that charming little head tilt. At his response you had to push down the little bubble of guilt in your gut.

“can you get me a coffee since your up?” you asked sweetly, flashing him a hopeful smile and gripping the side of you chair.

Connor’s LED slipped back to blue as he nodded

“of course” he repeated before turning and leaving turning towards the breakroom and you watched the infamous deviant hunter become your personal barista.

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

Much to Gavin’s delight you unknowingly began to adopt his habits. Particularly his work habits as you gradually began to become more demanding of Connor. Now deviated, you were more sensitive when asking for favours from the Android, but now you felt that you were closer, friends even and so you didn’t feel nearly as bad as you should.

“this is it, I give up” you tossed your pen down onto the desk. The case you had been working on had hit a dead end and you were feeling the frustration greatly.

“geez just ask to switch cases with someone, or better yet get the butler to do it” Gavin suggested as he sat down opposite you.

“Gavin” you warned, his nickname for Connor striking a nerve.

“What? It’s not like it isn’t true, you go to him for everything” He leaned forward on the desk.

“I don’t go to him for everything,” you shot back quickly, folding your hands across your chest.

“uh-huh. Whatever you say,” Gavin said dryly and resumed with his work.

You glanced over at Connor, you didn’t rely on him that much, did you? You hated thinking that you might have become a burden to him. You valued the interactions you had with each other and you felt something ugly and heavy tug at your insides at the thought that you had treated him unfairly.  

Yet as you continued to ponder the case in front of you, you found you were running out of options. You knew Gavin was busy and wasn’t likely to help you, and you had worked hard to form a decent relationship with Hank and didn’t want to risk that by burdening him with more work. You looked back over at Connor as he worked away at his desk, maybe he wouldn’t mind? He seemed to enjoy solving cases, and he’d probably help sort it for you in no time.

With a sigh you stood up and walked towards Connors desk. He seemed entirely engrossed in his work, rapidly scanning the information on the screen in front of him. Timidly you approached him, clinging onto your tablet with both hands.

“Hey Connor” you said quietly “are you busy?”

“yes detective, this case is quite a handful” he replied innocently. Shit. That does it.

“ohnevermindijust-“

“oh, no detective if you need help”

“nononoConnoryou’rebusy-”

“I really don’t mind, I’d very much like to be of use to you”

Before you could continue your word, vomit Hank interrupted –

“Jesus Christ (Y/N), just accept his help and get on with something else”

You paused, looking between Hank who hadn’t even turned to look away from his screen, and Connor who was looking up at you from his chair.

“Please detective, it would bring me great pleasure to know I’ve helped you,”

And how could you say no to that face? His sincere smile just pressed the corner of his eyes, and those eyes they just made your heart do somersaults at the fact you could do something to make him happy.

“Could I scan the files?” he prompted, nodding at the tablet in your hand, you nodded stupidly and handed it over and watched silently as he briefly scanned the document you had open.

“Thank you, Connor” your brain helpfully supplied as you tried to pull yourself out of the mental shutdown you were apparently experiencing.

“That’s alright, it shouldn’t take long” he said, handing the tablet back to you.

“of course it will, you’re an android, you’re crazy intelligent with a crazy intelligent system. You’ve probably already solved it” your mouth was running on autopilot and the tiny part of your brain that still functioning was screaming at your disaster of a sentence.

“No, it will still take me some time. But I appreciate the compliment detective”

Somewhere across the bullpen you heard Gavin snort.

A/N: so i got a tiiiiny but carried away writing this and i realised that it was like 100% just exposition so..... part 2 maybe? let me know what you think!

[glitchedbones-blog]

Not Human - Part Six

A/N: I have pretty much finished this so should have most of it up soonish...?

Loki x Original Female Character

Warnings: Body horror, Infinity War Spoilers

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

The aftermath of Thanos’ arrival leaves a bunch of sad folks and one out of action Alice. 

    It had been a month since the arrival and death of Thanos. A month of confusion as Loki, with Bruce vouching heavily for him, tried to explain what he could of the plan Strange gave too him. During that time Shuri had been working endlessly to return Vision, she had backed up what she could just before the attack, but she was still in need of data Tony may still have.

    Alice was dead to the world, in a coma that seemed, to her doctors, self-induced. She had been moved to the medical facility on the Avengers headquarters and fussed over by the best doctors that were still willing to deal with a group of mildly insane superhumans.

    A stroke of luck came in the form of a sleek ship carting the rest of the raccoon, Rocket’s friends as well as a tired Tony, Strange, and Spider-Man.

    “It was dangerous to allow her to go so far,” Steve said with an exhausted sigh.

    Doctor Strange leaned forward steepling his hands. “Dangerous, but necessary.”

    With everyone gathered, Doctor Strange had finally begun to explain his plan and Loki managed to get some manner of relief. He had been on his best behavior once he revealed himself, not that he could do much after the bone-crushing hug Thor gave him. Loki needed to be careful if he was going to keep up with his attempt at being more.

    Everyone started at the doctor like he had grown a second head, Strange took it in stride, giving a small shrug and wave of his hand. “I saw all the possibilities and there were very, very few we won.”

    Tony gave him a look and frowned. “You said there was only one.”

    “I lied,” Strange said, matter-of-factly. Tony huffed out a breath and rubbed his eyes. “We won a few, but much of those few involved allowing Thanos to win, to complete his plan. Fully. Those were sacrifices I did not feel should be made. This plan, while unconventional,” he glanced over at the hunched Loki. “And involved putting a great deal of trust in two of the most unstable creatures we know, it was still the option with the least deaths. If it succeeded. If it failed, well, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.”

    Tony sat up a bit and gave Strange a hard stare. “I get reindeer games here being unstable, but Alice?”

    Doctor Strange titled his head up, staring at the ceiling in exasperation. “You are companions with a woman who could unleash a horror that will never stop. Can never stop if her mind and her control slips enough. She is not on the top of my list of relatable people.”

    Tony opened his mouth to argue. He gave up and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Okay. Point.” Tony glanced over at the aforementioned god, who seemed to be trying his best to become the chair he was in. He was still, except for the small movement of his thumb as he rubbed the tooth Alice gave him like a worry stone. “She is going to be pissed at you.” Loki’s head shot up at Tony’s words, glaring at the half smile Tony cast his way. “How did you come up with this insane plan anyway? When?”

    Loki shifted, tucking the tooth away into a small pocket in the sleek, black suit he wore. “He came to me New York,” he waved a hand towards Doctor Strange, “Just before I was taken back to Asgard. I am assuming via the use of the time stone, in some manner. Obviously, I was skeptical, considering my position at the time.” Loki’s expression darkened. “He knew of Thanos and of how much of threat he is. I was never given too many details, something about it possibly ruining how events will unfold. All I was told was that I needed to survive Thanos, and Alice needed, for a time, to believe I was dead.” His eyes flicked over to Tony, who was getting ready to ask the inevitable. “Yes, I did ask what would happen if I were to truly die.” Loki chuckled dryly. “What was it you said, doctor?”

    Strange gave Loki a half smile. “Don’t.” The doctor paused, glancing between Tony and Loki. When he started again his tone was cautious. “The possibility I saw if Loki had truly died was rather bleak. Alice may have been okay, but more likely than not she would have snapped. Fully. Thanos would still be killed, but we would be left with a much worse monster to contend with.” Strange pinned Tony with a hard stare. “So it was Loki, or very angry, very crazy young woman who could pull an entire world-destroying entity into our reality. I went with Loki.”

    Steve stood, giving his head a small shake. He paced a few steps before turning to Loki. “She still thought you were dead, and she still was slipping. During the fight with Thanos...she...” He rubbed his face and sighed. “Scary.” Steve paced again, letting out a puff of breath. “What if she had gone too far? You would have forced our hand, we would have had to go against our friend.”

    Strange nodded. “That was a possibility, but it was small. Loki was having Banner’s body for some time there, I figured his excessive personality would bleed through.”

    Bucky snorted and Loki titled his head in agreement. “Some was one purpose,” Loki said with a wry smile. “She spent enough time around me during my confinement. I assumed she would be able to pick out anything that was distinctly different from Banner.”

    Tony leaned back. Exhaustion weighed him down, sagging his shoulders and lining his face. “And you were alright with this?” Tony leveled the question at Bruce, who had hidden in the corner.

    Bruce laughed. “Not really, but,” He looked over at Loki with a smile that bordered on a grimace. “Loki, I guess, isn’t all that bad.”

    Tony stared at Banner, shock evident on his face. “Okay.” He blinked and turned back to Strange, voice still disbelieving. “So you didn’t think to let us in on this? Or maybe find a way to get Alice to him sooner? Remember,” Tony looked over at Quill and Nebula, both who were still lost in their own grief. “Some of us lost people still.”

    Strange looked away and focused down at his hands. “No. And I am sorry for it, but for Thanos to die everything that played out had to play out as it did. The lives lost were not lost a vain.”

    Quill suddenly stood with a low growl. He glared at Stange, shuddering with barely constrained rage. “So what? Gamora had to die so your plan would work!” He spat the word plan and curled his fists. Nebula reached out, putting a hand on Quill’s elbow.

    Strange held up a hand, trying to quell the other’s man’s rage. “Yes.” He whispered, voice rough. Quill sagged back into his chair and squeezed his eyes shut.

    “Now what?” Tony said, breaking the tense silence. “We have the stones, what do we do with them? What if another Thanos shows up, we can’t keep them together.”

    Strange gave a nod of agreement. “No, we can’t. That I still haven't found a good solution to.”

    Loki opened his mouth, but it was thor who spoke up. “Alice. She could place them in that dimension. No one should be able to get them there.” Strange curled his fingers around the Eye of Agamotto. “The time stone can stay in your hands, of course.” Loki pressed his lips into a thin line, brows knitting together. The others stared at Thor in a mixture of horror and awe.

    “Did you miss the memo that this ocean thing is a very bad place?” Quill snapped. “How about we use the stone to fix what Thanos did. We could do that, right?” He directed the question to Strange, who simply shrugged.

    “My brother's suggestion is sound,” Loki said quietly. “Alice would not become part of the ocean, or even use it for her own power. In theory, she is able to pass into the dimension without becoming part of it.” He worked to keep his own uncertainty out of his voice.

    Natasha sat up and frowned. “Would they be safe there? This thing is world destroying and sentient. Wouldn’t it want to use the stones?”

    Loki frowned as she voiced his own concerns. “I don’t know. From what I have seen, no. I don’t even believe the stones have any effect on anything from that place. The mind stone did not work on Alice as it did on you.” He waved a hand towards Clint, who gave Loki a glare in return. “We would have to ask her, I think.”

    “So wait,” Rocket said, voice strained, “the scary girl is our best chance of getting rid of super powerful stones and that is only because she can maybe hide them in a scarier place? That’s just great!”

    Loki gave Rocket a halfhearted shrug. “Possibly. There may be no need, but with Nova Prime and Asgard gone, the list of those that can keep the stones out of the hands of people, well like me, are slim.”

    Loki pushed himself out of the chair and stood quickly. He did not miss Steve’s small flinch forward and the way Tony’s jaw tightened. “Until we come to a decision, I am going to excuse myself. If it’s all the same to you? He can explain the rest.” Loki motioned to Strange. “I have somewhere I would much rather be. And I have a feeling that you would all much rather me not be here either.” He glanced at his brother. “Except for Thor.”

    Loki stepped away and set his sights on the double door that led into the gleaming halls of the compound.

    At some point, Tony had the place equipped with a small medical wing, staffed by a few brave souls that were willing to work with the occasional non-human patient. Loki had grown to know these halls well and grew to dislike them more and more each passing day. The whole place felt so sterile with its sleek edges and bright, clean colors. It was a far cry from the bright gold and warm glow of the halls of Asgard. He never thought he would be homesick, but now with no home, it came in waves, crashing over him.

    The quick fall of footsteps behind him gave him pause and he turned. “Yes?” Loki didn’t bother to hide the frustration that laced his voice.

    Tony gave him a look halfway between concern and annoyance. “You and I need to talk.”

    “And why now?” Loki asked, trying to keep his calm.

    “Because now I know the whole picture. Look, I don’t get it, why Alice latched onto you.”

    Loki frowned and leaned his hip against one of the tall windows lining the hall, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “Have you ever asked her?”

    Tony looked away, frowning. “No. I should have. Maybe,” he hesitated, “maybe you and she are more similar than I would like to admit. I tried to understand.” Tony walked over and stood next to Loki. He gave his reflection a hard glare. “But I’m not what she needs. Not really.” He glanced up at Loki and took a deep breath. “I hate to say it, but Alice could use having you around. I just never realized how bad she had it for you. You do know how much I want that to not be the case, right?”

    Loki gave Tony a grim smile. “I imagine quite a bit.” At that Tony gave a mirthless chuckle. Loki pushed away from the window and turned to face Tony, hands clasped in front of him. “I feel a bit like a boy being lectured by a disapproving father.”

    Tony coughed out a real laugh. “In a way that’s kinda what is happening here.” The humor bled from his face. “Somehow I kept ending up accidentally adopting wayward kids. First Alice, and now I’ve got Parker. They are my responsibility now and I don’t want to fail them. I never should have let her near you, I failed her there.” Loki opened his mouth to protest, but Tony held up a hand to silence him. “You know damn well who and what you are. Especially back then. But I get it, things have changed. You have changed. You are not the same asshole who tried to take over the world. If you were we, you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me. I don’t trust you. Not yet, maybe not ever. But, for Alice, I can play nice. I failed her once. I won’t fail her again.”

    Loki was quiet, his gaze fixed solidly on the ground, wearing an expression of shame and surprise. When he finally spoke, his voice was only a hoarse whisper. “I do know who and what I am. It has been a contention for me for some time. The things I have done beg no forgiveness and I will not ask for something I do not deserve. All I wish is to have a chance to see if my brother is right. If I am capable of being more than just the God of Mischief.”

    Tony surprised Loki by clapping him on the shoulder, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Well, if you survive how pissed she may be, how about not being an asshole? Maybe even join us?”

    Loki stared at Tony in shock. “You are serious, aren’t you? Me? Joi...You think she will be that mad at me?”

    Tony turned and gave him a small wave. “Could be. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when she wakes up.”

[thenorthernwinds]

LFRP ––– VANNES NORTHWIND.

THE BASICS ––– -

NAME: Vannes Northwind

Age: 26

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

SERVER: Balmung + Maetus

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– -

HAIR: Raven coloured, short and extremely choppy-- almost as if he cut it himself. It’s slightly shaven on the left side and the tufts always stick out in wild places.

EYES: A dull cerulean blue

HEIGHT: 6’1”

BUILD: A slim build with slight muscle mass prominently seen in his upper arms.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Most of his scars seem to be hidden behind his clothing and kept away from prying eyes -- though the most noticeable would be the small cuts and bruises that litter his knuckles and hands.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: An odd looking amulet that rests just above the center of his chest -- it’s a trinket gifted to him by his childhood friend/now travelling companion. 

PERSONAL ––– -

PROFESSION: Once a street urchin, now he’s a relic hunter for hire.

HOBBIES: Does raising hell count? Vannes greatly enjoys riling people up for a thrill and cares very little for the consequences that follow. Oftentimes you can find him stirring up trouble in a nearby pub only for him to be dragged out by the ear by his tiny, fuming Au Ra companion.

LANGUAGES: Common, Sarcasm, and certain... colourful terms.

RESIDENCE: Inn rooms, empty benches, squatting in a noble’s attic... the list goes on. Since leaving the orphanage all these years ago, Vannes (and Sui) never really had a place to call home. But only recently they’ve acquired a (albeit worn down) caravan that they use to traverse from town to town.

FEARS: While he will never openly admit it, he’s afraid of being abandoned by his childhood friend, or that his wild actions will put her in danger. Vannes is also deathly afraid of arachnids, but you didn’t hear this from me.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

PARENTS: Unknown parents -- and he couldn’t care less about them. All he knows is that his mother abandoned him on the doorstep of Ul’dah’s orphanage when he was just a baby, and to this day he still hasn’t concerned himself over them.

SIBLINGS: Again, he doesn’t know if he has any siblings, and he doesn’t care at all. The relationship he shares with Sui is close enough to be considered family, so he thinks of her a younger sister of sorts.

OTHER RELATIVES: None that he is aware of.

NOTABLE FRIENDS: Aside from his companion, Vannes doesn’t really consider anyone his friend. It’s difficult to gain his trust, and even then it’s challenging to maintain it.

TRAITS ––– -

extroverted / introverted / in between / contextual

disorganized / organized / in between / contextual

close minded / open-minded / in between / contextual

calm / anxious / in between / contextual

disagreeable / agreeable / in between / contextual

cautious / reckless / in between / contextual

patient / impatient / in between / contextual

outspoken / reserved / in between / contextual

leader / follower / in between / contextual

empathetic / unemphatic / in between / contextual

optimistic / pessimistic / in between / contextual

traditional / modern / in between / contextual

hard-working / lazy / in between / contextual

cultured / un-cultured / in between / contextual

loyal / disloyal / in between / contextual

faithful / unfaithful / in between / contextual

ADDITIONAL INFO & HOOKS ––– -

You look familiar... Perhaps Vannes has pick-pocketed you in the past? Bedded you on a drunken whim? Tried to punch you in the face? ...All of the above? Each option is viable, and while he might not be able to recall the face of your character, it makes for a good icebreaker (or jaw-breaker, depending on how he’ll take it)

TIME FOR A GOOD BRAWL! Looking for a good fight? Want to let out your frustrations on someone? Why not try insulting Vannes any way you possibly can! It doesn’t take much and it most often ends up with him throwing hands -- but hey, you were the one who started it!

Could you keep it down? Again, are you looking for a fight? If so, then keep it up buddy... If he’s being too loud or boisterous for your liking, go stand a little further back. There, problem solved!

What do you know about this relic? And this is how you pique his interest (Aside from blatant flirting, of course)! For the past few years he’s been on the hunt for a certain relic, so he’ll take any information he possibly can (or information on any relic in general -- so long as it’s relevant to him and his endeavors). Does your character know anything about a certain treasure trove located near Ul’Dah? Or perhaps they wish to know about one of the relics poking out of his backpack? Talk to Vannes about it and watch him gush.

About that Au Ra behind you... Got something to say about his tiny travelling companion? Go on then, say it to his face. And you best watch what you say about her... lest you wish to be on the receiving end of Vannes’ fist.

WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR ––– -

Ideally I’m looking for ways to expand Vannes’ character/story and entwine it within the ffxiv universe. I’m always down for impromptu or plotted threads as well as forming most types of IC relationships (friends, enemies, drinking buddies, etc. -- Though please note that romantic shipping isn’t really a high priority for me right now, but I’m not opposed to the idea! It can just prove difficult considering Vannes’ character and personality)

OOC INFO ––– -

Despite this Stupid Tol wanting to throw hands all the time, I’m the complete opposite :) the only time you’ll catch these hands is if u ever wanna hold them!

what up, I’m Jesse, i’m 22, and I never fucking learned how to read

a tired uni student from Australia, so timezones might make things a bit difficult... I apologise!

I’m ok with dark/mature roleplay, but no ERP please! Fade to black is fine though.

Discord roleplay is also ok! Though I prefer ffxiv as my attention is less likely to wander.

CONTACT ––– -

Hit me up on tumblr’s DMs and I’ll give you my discord #! I tend to change my name a lot so there’s not really much point in me listing it here. You can also contact me ingame: Vannes Northwind (Balmung) and Vannes Northernwind (Mateus) don’t ask why i have two of him on the same server hahaha

[so-caffeinated]

I kind of want "ball of sunshine/loves everyone" Ellie Queen to exact revenge on the latest douche to break Sara's heart…

P.S. Yes, I’m always taking prompts for flashfics. Someone asked. And… yeah I’ll add them to my list. But for now… enjoy this little Ellie and Sara one. 

Writing Time - Slightly over 1 hour.

June 2033 - Proportional Response

The cover of night is Ellie Queen’s best ally right now, but shrubbery around the building comes a close second. A thick buffer of rhododendron bushes easily hides her approach and she crouches lowly as she reaches the brick wall, looking for a way to scale the building to the second floor without being seen.

Options are slim, but they’re there.

This would be a whole lot easier if she’d had the nerve to swipe her dad’s grappling hook arrows, but she isn’t foolhardy enough for that. If she were caught with that - by her dad or anyone else - there’d be a hell of a lot of explaining to do. She’ll be in enough trouble if she’s busted. She doesn’t need to add to it.

But some things are worth it. Some things demand vengeance.

There’s no good option for trees to climb for access to the upstairs, but there is an open window up there so she doesn’t have to worry about tripping the alarm. Bad move on her target’s part, though. Sloppy and dangerous as hell. But, then, the person in question probably doesn’t have any idea they’re a target.

His mistake. He’ll know soon enough.

The brick isn’t easy to climb, but it could be a hell of a lot worse. At least it’s not shoddy plastic siding or stucco. She’s wearing all black and has her hair tucked up into a beanie. She should blend in fairly well so that the neighbors don’t notice and she’s almost positive no one is at home right now, but she’s cautious anyhow, moving up the building at a steady, fast pace that she prays goes unnoticed.

It takes all of her cat-like reflexes and upper body strength to swing over to the open windowsill and pull herself up, but she manages it on her first attempt, giving herself a mental pat on the back for the success. Her dad would be proud. Or, maybe not. This isn’t exactly how he’d ever intended her to use her skills, after all.

But that doesn’t matter right now because this is important. Because Mike-the-almost-model is a jackass who deserves what’s coming to him.

After six damned, heart-wrenching months of watching Sara pine for this dirtbag, she’d dated him for all of three weeks before he unceremoniously dumped her during lunch in the quad at school. Ellie might have been jealous as hell. She might wanted Sara and Mike to break up, but she absolutely didn’t want to see her best friend’s heart crushed. Especially in such a painfully public way.

Ellie had been there when it happened, had wedged herself between them and poked Mike in the chest as she told him off, all fury and hot-faced defensiveness on Sara’s behalf. But, at the time, Sara had needed her more. The other girl had tugged her arm to pull her away and Ellie had listened entirely because Sara’s consolation was way more important to making Mike feel like shit at the time.

Now, though… now it’s a lot of hours later and Sara had cried herself out with her head on Ellie’s lap as Ellie stroked her hair, her heart breaking more and more with every quiet sob. Now she can get back to making Mike pay.

She pauses, listening for signs of life within the house as she eases herself through the window. Hearing nothing, she dusts herself off and scans the room, slipping the backpack of supplies off her shoulder as she considers options.

There’s no shortage of them.

It’s June and it’s hot, so the first thing she does is pour some crumbles of bleu cheese between Mike’s mattress and sheets. That’s gonna smell awesome as soon as it melts. But she’s nowhere near done.

She hops atop the bed and reaches up to the ceiling, gluing a super realistic looking, absurdly large spider directly above his pillow. Briefly, she considers placing some kind of recording device just so she and Sara can enjoy his reaction to all of this, but in the end she decides there’s far too much that might be going on in a teenage boy’s bedroom that she’d rather have no clue about, so she skips that idea and heads to his bathroom instead.

Luckily, it appears that Mike-the-almost-model has his own bathroom and it’s filled with tons of hair products. Ugh. He’s so fussy, like a damned peacock. She can’t understand what Sara had seen in him, but that’s really beside the point.

She swaps out some of the hair gels with Nair and replaces his deodorant with a stick of cream cheese before considering his shower. It doesn’t take long to unscrew his showerhead and stuff some red Kool-Aid powder inside it. Heading out of the bathroom after that, she stops, considers his toothpaste and then squeezes it all out and refills it with mustard instead.

Fun times. She’s kinda looking forward to confessing all of this to Will. Out of everyone other than Sara, she thinks he’ll appreciate the lengths she’s going to.

All of this has gone pretty quickly and she’s got time to burn now, so she heads back out into the bedroom and looks around, surveying for more options. She’d love to mess with his computer, but she completely failed to acquire her mother’s hacking skills.

Still, it’s probably worth a shot.

As it turns out, Mike-the-almost-model is not a braintrust and his password is literally 1234, so she gets in pretty easily, finds his not-at-all-parental-approved social media accounts and uses his own e-mail account to shoot his mother a link to his reddit account before changing his password to ‘m!kesuck5’ and logging back out. For extra frustration, she pastes a post-it note over the bottom of his mouse.

Sucks to be you, Mike. Maybe next time, don’t be a jackass - either to your girlfriend or online. It’ll come back to bite you in the ass eventually.

There’s no topping that, she thinks, so she starts to head back to the window to make her escape, but that’s when she spots something barely visible beneath his bed and she cannot believe her luck.

Ellie crouches down and pulls a few sizable bottles of alcohol out from beneath the bed, grinning widely at her find. All of it winds up poured down the sink and replaced with water.

And that - most definitely - is the cherry on the top of her ‘fuck you’ sundae to Mike-the-almost-model.

She leaves the way she came, quietly, fast and under the cover of dark. There’s a deep sense of satisfaction about the justice she’s wrought tonight and she savors that for a moment as she reaches the sidewalk and pulls off her beanie, unzippering her jacket to reveal a colorful shirt, so that she looks less like a suspicious stalker and more like a stylish teenage girl. Her bike leans against a stop sign at the end of the street and she hops on it to head back home with no one the wiser to what she’s done. But, as she rides away, her head and heart both focus back on Sara.  

Part of her wants to go back and wait for Mike, to scream at him again and tell him that Sara deserves better, that some people would do anything at all just to see her smile, and doesn’t he know she deserves better than this? Better than him? But Mike’s an idiot and Ellie’s not going to even hint at her feelings for Sara to someone like him. He doesn’t get to know that.

But, oh, it’s true. Sara should be with someone who makes her happy in the most fundamental way, with someone who adores her and puts her first and would never in a million years intentionally hurt her. Ellie could be that person. She knows it, feels it with every fiber of her being. But that doesn’t get to be her place and it leaves her frustrated and heartsick. She’ll take what she can get, though, and that’s a lot. Sara does love her, she knows that, just not the way she wants. She does get to be there for her, to hold her while she cries and support her when she needs it. That’s still something. Whatever might happen, their friendship will always be a solid, foundational part of Ellie’s life and she will cherish it and hold onto it always.

In the end, Ellie doesn’t tell Sara what she’s done, but she also doesn’t have to. Mike shows up to school with no hair and smelling like cheese, pissed as hell and constantly bemoaning his newly bald status. He can’t prove Ellie did anything, but he keeps glaring at her anyhow. His new girlfriend - the one he stupidly ditched Sara for - dumps him when he doesn’t get a callback for some modeling thing and Sara’s smile through all of it is thin, but it shows in her eyes.

“You’re the best, you know that?” she asks, wrapping an arm around Ellie after school and hugging her tightly. Ellie flushes happily at the praise and tries to hold back a grin as the older girl kisses her soundly on the cheek with a loud smack of her lips. “Everyone should have a best friend like you, Ellie. I love you.”

Ellie’s heartbeat goes triple-time at that, even if the way she wants to hear those words isn’t how Sara means them. That’s okay for now, because Sara still loves her and Ellie will relish that for all it’s worth.

“Right back at you,” she smiles, leaning her cheek on her best friend’s shoulder. “You deserve the best.”

[gradecmedia1-blog]

High Volume Web Hosting Reseller

How To Choose A High Volume Web Hosting Reseller

Reseller Web hosting is exploding big time at the moment, if you play it nice and smart you might as well find your self banking real big with little effort. And if you are wondering let me break it down for you. Let's say you are a website designer, or a social media expert who has a sizable Instagram following, you just happen to come across our Instagram monetization training which teaches how to monetize your Instagram with a simple WordPress blog. Following your personal success, you decide to DM your following to share the great success you have just enjoyed after the Insta monetization course, then 100 of your 50K followers decides they want in and you recommend they buy web hosting for a monthly subscription of $19.99/month.

You do the mathematics that's nearly $2000 every month for the next twelve months. Now if you grow your numbers somewhere near to a thousand... You get the idea!

So How Do They Do It?

The secrete of a successful reseller business lies in the choices you make as you are getting started. It all starts with choosing a high volume web hosting provider. On the surface, this sounds really easy, but choosing a web hosting provider is very much trickier than you think. Most web host providers you know are application based and that is possibly what many of your clients will need too. Unfortunately, your profit margin lies in between those parallel lines so finding one web host who ticks all your boxes is an act of faith, to say the least. For a start, to get your own server partitioning, you will have to hand in your hard earned money as an outlay capital, in many cases, it is a one or six months payment in advance to secure your web hosting server. As a new business your reputation also rides on this reseller as your users will never know this reseller instead your reputation is on the line. So if you ask me why you should be cautious as to whom you solicit your reseller web hosting business, the above points are good reasons enough for anyone to be extra careful.

Wondering where to start from?

Keep reading! In this article, I will share with you steps you can follow in choosing who to partner with and how to test their offers to see if they pass the litmus test. As a reseller, think of your clients, how much will you enjoy when their websites are down or worth of it is poorly redirecting traffic! The client will not point finger at your reseller provider instead they will be knocking at your door and pointing fingers at you! You will be the one taking all the heat! This is why when deciding which volume hosting provider to go for you should choose wisely. And the one good reason for choosing wisely couldn't be truer than when many of your clients buying web hosting from you as a reseller would greatly benefit from a high volume web host. It makes sense that before we dive in and talk about evaluation of these high volume web hosting providers, let's get some housekeeping out of the way so you can focus on what matters most. If you are we oof with these topics feel free to move to the next step and get digging in!

What is A Web Host?

For our purposes, anyone who offers a packaged web hosting service for an end user to host website files that are served over the internet upon request through what is commonly known as HTTP protocol. With reselling of web hosting, the costs are usually charged per month or per year in advance. The main thing to take notice is that the same web hosting service with similar features can hugely vary in quality and cost price per month. With the cost of web hosting skyrocketing year after year, temptations to go for self-hosting are quite high. Unfortunately, that requires a lot of technical abilities, server capabilities, and specialized software running 24/7. I will not dwell much on self-hosting server as there is plenty of articles providing this solution and shows you much better than I can possibly do self-hosting.

What Is High Volume?

A high volume web host may sound to your fancy, for me, it's one of those web hosting packages you choose from a reseller provider with a specific goal in mind. In many cases, it's packages are designed to be very flexible with the volume of the user and data transfer bundles. Frankly speaking, you only have to look at the top ten household web hosting providers, you will notice how much they vary on what they offer. This why knowing all the pros and cons when choosing your high volume reseller web hosting is important. Let's take a closer look at some of the most important ones here!

The Pros For High Volume  Web Hosting Reseller

Your reseller mush offers some guarantees of uptime as you are less vulnerable to having to deal with angry clients due to the capacity of websites affecting performance on a given server. With a sound service level agreement that takes uptime into account, you have little to worry about your clients getting frustrated. In case you have never experienced real up time troubles, just go on twitter and see for yourself when you search web host provider semi-colon up-time problems. High volume web hosting providers have no issues if any of your clients have a great deal of streaming media needs hosted on your server. While it is advisable to have your high resource need media like video hosted on youtube, some web hosting providers have no worries about hosting such media on your server.

Cons For High Volume Web Hosting Reseller

Sometimes high volume web hosting can be a little pricey compared to other kinds of web hosting. Quite often as a reseller, if you rent a server and you do not bring in more sales, you will most likely lose money Sometimes overclouded server clusters pose a lot of challenges in security so making sure that you are benchmarking is extremely important. All it takes is one vulnerable or compromised website theme to leave the back door open for others an unwarranted takedown. Despite these circumstances being extremely rare, It is important that you take them into consideration even though the likelihood is slim. Reselling successfully means planning your resources especially how to scale the business up when needed. Whoever you choose to go with, you should pick your volume reseller provider for your future needs in mind. That being said, clever resellers understand the concept of scale-be small businesses, just because you are thinking about the future needs of your business then you should go buy the most expensive reseller package right away, sometimes all you need is the assurance that when you need to scale up, the possibility and packages are available at your disposal. This way starting small, moving up the ladder into bigger packages as per need is the best practical way of growing your reseller web hosting business. I can't stress enough the need for scale-ability on demand as opposed to moving the entire web hosting business, moving domains can be very complex and its the sort of a headache you don't need. Many folks who took their time to think about their long-term needs saved themselves from unnecessary future grief. Why compromise your client's business stability and traffic with unwarranted website maintenance when you can sort that out way before you get started?

What If Am On An Expansion Stage Now?

If your goal is expanding your current hosting, speak to your current hosting provider and see if you two can work on a compromise, one thing I have learnt over the years running my own web hosting business is that if you do not ask you won't get it. In any case, your hosting provider is your best option for growth and expansion. You only have to look at their reliability, support and a few other things before you even contemplate of moving, If these features are not up to scratch, then moving is inevitable. Do not just dream up migration from one host to another when you are moving other peoples' businesses, think of the sort of damage your move can cause to the other business owners. You must consider your new host's features and offer if it stacks up really well, do not let price points and savings to be your decision making assets as this may turn out to be an epic expense than you end up saving.

How Is Choosing Best Reseller And High Volume Web Host Different From A Regular Host?

In most cases, the difference is very small. For me, an ideal reseller should offer useful feature sets and not otherwise. Take your time to research your reseller host provider I think it makes a huge difference. Research done thoroughly can mean the difference between losing your investment into buying crap hosting as you will absolutely need to sure of your decision for a foreseeable future. Read the full article

[iloveyoupittsburghpirates-blog]

What An Escape, Pittsburgh Pirates

My Dearest Pittsburgh Pirates,

That did not turn out the way I expected it to and I couldn’t be happier. After the return from the All Star break, you had an important three game series with the St. Louis Cardinals at PNC Park. Friday looked like it was going to be one of those typically frustrating games. It was a tie game in the 9th inning and you had 15 men get on base in the game and only two runs. In that past, especially against the Cardinals, you would rip your fans’ hearts out by losing on a solo shot in the 13th inning. Instead, Josh Bell hit a walkoff three run homer in the bottom of the 9th to get the weekend off to a great start. Saturday night, Jameson Taillon didn’t have his best stuff, Lancy Lynn did, and you got shutout 4-0. The rubber match on Sunday saw you get off to a 1-0 lead before the Cards tied it. Max Moroff hit his first major league homer to go up 2-1 before the Cards tied it again. In the 8th inning, Yadier Molina led off with a solo homer against Juan NIcasio and it looked like you were destined to lose while the Brewers had a lead. If that held true, you would have been nine games out. An inexplicable decision in the 9th by Cards’ manager Mike Mattheny to allow a lefty to face Jordy Mercer with the tying run on second led to a game tying double. After an intentional walk to Freese, Adam Frazier singled up the middle to win it. Around the same time, the Brewers gave up a a grand slam to the Phillies which loss them the lead and eventually the game. A two game swing puts you at seven out with the Brewers coming to town. Biggest series of the season starts today.

Josh Bell’s ceiling keeps rising and rising. Friday, Bell had arguably the best game of his professional career. Aside from the walkoff three run homer, Bell was 2 for 3 with two walks, a homer, and four RBI’s. He was on base four times. Bell currently has a .798 OPS which would be higher if his OBP was better than .328. He’s also only batting .238 after an 0 for 4 game on Sunday. It’s exciting because that’s the part of his game I had confidence in. I still believe Bell projects as a typical .275 hitter with the potential to put up a .360 OBP. I thought maybe he would only be a fifteen to twenty homers a season type of player but he already has 17 homers this season and there are still seventy games left. There was also the looming concern of whether or not this guy could legitimately play any position on the field at all. Would he be another Pedro at first? He hasn’t been perfect (a ball he should have had cost you a run yesterday), but he has been good enough. Far better than Pedro. He can at least make a throw to second base and he doesn’t drop balls thrown directly at him. Between his burdening power, his plate discipline, and his acceptable defense, this guy might be your number four hitter for the next five years. 

Is the bullpen actually improving? Somehow your bullpen currently ranks fourth in the NL in bullpen ERA which almost doesn’t make sense. A big reason for that is Felipe Rivero’s silly low ERA of 0.74. But there has been legitimate improvements. Over the last month, Tony Watson has a 1.54 ERA though still a high 1.37 WHIP. He has looked more comfortable recently and has managed to get a little of his velocity back that seemed to disappear. Daniel Hudson’s last month has shown improvement as well. He’s still sporting too high of a WHIP (1.32) over that time but does only have a 2.16 ERA. This is far from a dominant relief corp but they are at least decent. Their OPS against and WHIP fall about middle of the pack in the NL. That’s obviously not great but it wasn’t too long ago that we would have said this is the worst bullpen in baseball. Rivero is the glue that holds this all together. There aren’t a lot of teams that have dominating middle relievers. As long as you have a dominant closer, which you most certainly do, I feel like that can make up for the weaknesses in the rest of the bullpen. Nicasio has been a solid eighth inning guy and, with Bastardo finally gone, the options of Watson, Hudson, LeBlanc, Marinez, and even now Schugel for those middle innings don’t seem insane. It’s far from perfect but I do think this bullpen is good enough to hold wins for you down the stretch. 

I gave you my whole rant last week about how you need to sign Cutch to an extension. I still believe that though I do admit some of that comes from how disappointing of a season all of our top prospects are having. Regardless, I’d still be happy if you did it. After hearing Neal Huntington talk about it this week, it seems like the chances of that are slim to none. Huntington did say trading Cutch and Cole now wouldn’t be fair to a team that can still compete. He also mentioned they have allowed players to hit free agency before without trading them like Liriano or Nova. The one thing he didn’t mention or even hint at was a possible extension. This makes sense knowing Huntington. He never likes to sign players anyway but especially not one who is in his thirties and is coming off a year and a half slump. Maybe they would consider extending him next season if Meadows continues to struggle or gets hurt again but that seems like a long shot. What happens if you extend Cutch, he slumps again next year, and Meadows goes off in Triple-A? Then you would be kicking yourself. All of those things don’t seem terribly likely. I know you have to be more cautious as a small market team but I also still don’t understand why you can’t spend more money. If Cutch is gone after this year or next, what would your payroll even be? 75 million? That’s not even competitive. We will see how this all plays out but it’s obvious that it’s won’t be the way I prefer. 

I’ve already mentioned it but I can’t overstate this enough. Today starts the most important series of the season and I can’t believe it’s against the Milwaukee Brewers. They still sit in first place with a seven game lead over you. These four games at PNC Park could decide the rest of this season. Sweep them and you are three games back. Get swept and you’re eleven back and the season is all but over. There’s a lot on the line. You follow that with the trip to Colorado to face the Rockies, currently holding the second Wildcard spot. These are the only two teams you face with winning records for the next month. If somehow you can put together a great week, you could be back in this thing before you know it. The Cubs are starting to play better too and after their acquisition of Jose Quintana this week (in his first start for them yesterday he went seven innings, with zero runs, and 12 K’s), they still seem like the favorites to win this division. You have to keep pace with them too. This week needs to be the start of something great and you can build off that over the next month against a mediocre schedule. This is it. It’s now or never. I hope we aren’t talking about you being sellers next week. Good luck and beat that Brew-Crew. 

                                                                           Your Surprisingly Hopeful Hubby,

                                                                                                    Brad

P.S. Starling Marte’s return couldn’t happen at a better time. He will return this week in the midst of this very important Brewers series from his 80 game suspension for PED use. I assume Marte will be slotted in the number two spot in the lineup with JHay moving to leadoff. I think the plan for the second half will be to give David Freese more games off so don’t be surprised if we see more Adam Frazier at 2B with JHay at 3rd or even some more Max Moroff if he can start hitting more like he did yesterday with that homer. They said they want to keep Marte in the same position in the order so if that’s not second, I would imagine leadoff with be the next option. We will know this week. Hopefully he’s done being an idiot but it is nice to add someone of Marte’s talent back to this lineup. 

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High Volume Web Hosting Reseller

How To Choose A High Volume Web Hosting Reseller

Reseller Web hosting is exploding big time at the moment, if you play it nice and smart you might as well find your self banking real big with little effort. And if you are wondering let me break it down for you. Let's say you are a web site designer, or a social media expert who has a sizable instagram following, you just happen to come across our Instagram monetization training which teaches how to monetize your instagram with a simple WordPress blog. Following your personal success, you decide to DM your following to share the great success you have just enjoyed after the Insta monetization course, then 100 of your 50K followers decides they want in and you recommend they buy web hosting for a monthly subscription of $19.99/month. You do the month that's nearly $2000 every month for the next twelve months. Now if you grow you numbers somewhere near to a thousand.... You get the idea!

So How Do They Do It?

The secrete of a successful reseller business lies in the choices you make as you are getting started. It all starts with choosing a high volume web hosting provider. On surface this sounds really easy, but choosing a web hosting provider is very much trickier than you think. Most web host providers you know are application based and that is possibly what many of your clients will need too. Unfortunately your profit margin lies in between those parallel lines so finding one web host who ticks all your boxes is an act of faith to say the least. For a start, to get your own server partitioning, you will have to hand in your hard earned money as an outlay capital, in many cases it is a one or six months payment in advance to secure your web hosting server. As a new business your reputation also rides on this reseller as your users will never know this reseller instead your reputation is on the line. So if you ask me why you should be cautious as to whom you solicit your reseller web hosting business, the above points are good reasons enough for anyone to be extra careful.

Wondering where to start from?

Keep reading! In this article Iwill share with you steps you can follow in choosing who to partner with and how to test their offers to see if they pass the litmus test. As a reseller, think of your clients, how much will you enjoy when their websites are down or worth off it is poorly redirecting traffic! The client will not point finger at your reseller provider instead they will be knocking at your door and pointing fingers at you! You will be the one taking all the heat! This is why when deciding which volume hosting provider to go for you should choose wisely. And the one good reason for choosing wisely couldn't be more true than when many of your clients buying web hosting from you as a reseller would greatly benefit from a high volume web host. It makes sense that before we dive in and talk about evaluation of these high volume web hosting providers, let's get some house keeping out of the way so you can focus on what matters most. If you are we oof with these topics feel free to move to the next step and get digging in! What is A Web Host? For our purposes, anyone who offers a packaged web hosting service for an end user to host website files that are served over the internet upon request through what is commonly known as http protocol. With reselling of web hosting , the costs are ussually charged per month or per year in advance. The main thing to take notice is that, the same web hosting servece with similar features can hugely vary in quality and cost price per month. With the cost of web hosting skyrocketing year after year, temptations to go for self hosting are quite high, Unfortunately that requires a great deal of technical abilities, server capabilities,and specialized software running 24/7. I will not dwell much on self hosting server as there is plenty of articles providing this solution and shows you much better than I can possibly do self hosting.

What Is High Volume?

A high volume web host may sound to you fancy, for me it's one of those web hosting packages you choose from a reseller provider with a specific goal in mind. In many cases, it's packages are designed to be very flexible with volume of user and data transfer bundles. Frankly speaking, you only have to look at the top ten household web hosting providers, you will notice how much they vary on what they offer. This why knowing all the pros and cons when choosing your high volume reseller web hosting is important. Let's take a closer look at some of the most important ones here!

The Pros For High Volume  Web Hosting Reseller

Your reseller mush offer some guarantees of uptime as you are less vulnerable to having to deal with angry clients due to capacity of websites affecting performance on a given server. With a sound service level agreement that takes uptime into account you have little to worry about your clients getting frustrated. Incase you have never experienced reall up time troubles, just go on twitter and see for yourself when you search web host provider semi-colon up-time problems. With high volume web hosting, your profitability has no limit with almost the unlimited numbers of clients you can resell to your packaged hosting. High volume web hosting providers have no issues if any of your clients have a great deal of streaming media needs hosted on your server. While it is advisable to have your high resource need media like video hosted on youtube, some web hosting providers have no worries about hosting such media on your server.

Cons For High Volume Web Hosting Reseller

Sometimes high volume web hosting can be a little pricey compared to other kinds of web hosting. Quite often as a reseller, if you rent a server and you do not bring in more sales, you will most likely lose money Sometimes overclouded server clusters poses a great deal of challenges in security so making sure that you are bench-making is extremely important. All it takes is one vulnerable or compromised website theme to leave the back door open for others an unwarranted take down. Despite these circumstances being extremely rare,It is important that you take them into consideration even though the likelihood is slim. Reselling successfully means planning your resources especially how to scale the business up when needed. Who ever you choose to go with, you should pick your volume reseller provider with your future needs in mind. That being said, clever resellers understand the concept of scale-ble small businesses, just because you are thinking about the future needs of your business then you should go buy the most expensive reseller package right away, sometimes all you need is the assurance that when you need to scale up , the possibility and packages are available at your disposal. This way starting small, moving up the ladder into bigger packages as per need is the best practical way of growing your reseller web hosting business. I can't stress enough the need for scale-bility on demand as opposed to moving the entire web hosting business, moving domains can be very complex and its the sort of headache you don't need. Many folks who took their time to think about their long term needs saved themselves from unnecessary future grief. Why compromise your client's business stability and traffic with unwarranted website maintenance when you can sort that out way before you get started?

What If Am On An Expansion Stage Now?

If your goal is expanding your current hosting, speak to your current hosting provider and see if you two can work on a compromise, one thing I have learnt over the years running my own web hosting business is that if you do not ask you won't get it. In many case you hosting provider is your best option for growth and expansion. You only have to look at their reliabilty, support and afew other things before you even contemplate of moving,If these features are not up to scratch, then moving is inevitable. Do not just dream up migration from one host to another when you are moving other peoples's businesses, think of the sort of damage your move can cause to the other business owners. You must consider your new host's features and offering if it stcks up really well, do not let price points and savings to be your decision making assets as this may turn out to be an epic expense than you end up saving.

How Is Choosing Best Reseller And High Volume Web Host Different From A Regular Host?

In most cases,the difference is very small. For me an ideal reseller should offer useful feature sets and not otherwise. Take your time to research your reseller host provider I think it makes a huge difference. Research done thoroughly can mean the difference between loosing you investment into buying crap hosting as you will absolutely need to sure of your decision for a foreseeable future. Read the full article