#and its true for bash and kit

[andrwgarfields]

i love how kit and bash have been accounted for after leaving brasil and joe is nowhere to be found 🥲

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

silly question time, those marks on the sides of Drifter's face, are they tatoos, scars, or just like, weird wrinkles? In-game the shading makes them look like scars, but they are perfectly symmetrical. Is it like a Dregen thing? Result of some blood ritual, maybe?

They're scars. We can see them especially clearly in Gambit openings that focus on his face.

As far as I know (and I have searched pretty extensively through the Ishtar Collective and the Destiny Lore Vault) there is no current in-game explanation for the Drifter's facial scars.

We do have some interesting tidbits, though. One is from Cayde in his post-death message to the Drifter.

He says "back when you were still handsome." Implying the Drifter is less-so now. I'm going to put aside the obvious inaccurate concept that scars make someone less beautiful but use this as an example that the Drifter may have been different, physically, in the past.

(There is a strong counter-argument here, that Cayde's definition of 'handsome' may not be entirely physical. It's highly congruent with the Drifter's character for him to alter his appearance and behavioural patterns to make himself less appealing when he wants to be left alone. And Cayde could also just be being a little shit. All of these are possible and potentially simultaneously true.)

The Drifter also has a pretty antagonistic relationship with his ghost and has refused its help in the past so it would not be out of character for him to not allow it to heal him and instead want to heal any wounds he's sustained 'naturally.'

So there's basically three main possiblities: Either he was risen with the scars, has somehow chosen to keep them between resurrections (I'm unsure if this is even possible in D2 lore, but it's a popular fan theory), or he hasn't died since he got them (and refuses to allow his ghost to heal them with Light).

While your theory of a Dredgen/blood ritual is possible, to me it seems far more likely the scars are so symmetrical because they're from an explosion near his face. Such as in the concept art below:

He's also got several voice lines in his Gambit preamble, and elsewhere discussing his many adventures in kit-bashing and engineering which have involved considerable personal danger to himself. The Drifter has never been one for OSHA compliance.

This is in addition to his brutal past detailed in A Man With No Name and elsewhere, which involved quite a lot of shrapnel, explosions, buildings collapsing, fire, and other unpleasantness.

It's also plausible that, rather than shrapnel, they're tooth or claw marks from the creatures he encountered in the Ancient Apocalypse armour lore where he, once again, murdered his entire crew to survive, as shown in this concept art:

One of the (many, many, many) things I love about the Drifter is that he is just so full of stories. The scars on his face are just yet more stories. The details of his physical portrayal all speak to so many different narrative tidbits. Everything about him is story-rich.

He's a fascinating creature, filled with contradictions and sorrow.

I went combing through D2 concept art for this post and it took me so long to answer specifically because I was trying to find an image that I remember seeing where the Drifter is pulling off some eye protection after an explosion and the scars on his face are where the eye-protection wasn't covering. It stuck in my memory because the Drifter actually using eye protection at all seemed very noteworthy to me at the time. However, I haven't been able to find this image anywhere and this makes me think perhaps it was fan art and not concept art. I asked a bunch of people about this, but no one I've talked with knows wtf I'm talking about. It is also possible I may have imagined it. At this point, I have, sadly, given up on ever locating it again (if it ever existed in the first place).

On the off-chance anyone does know what image I'm talking about, though, here is my desperate plea for a link to it.

That is all.

[amorgansgal]

So it's been a while since I've written any fanfiction (sorry RDR2 lot) but I've definitely been captured body and soul by Baldur's Gate 3 and I bashed this out this morning. I appreciate fully not many might read this as it does concern my own named tav, Vanya, and I just fancied doing a little creative writing. But if anyone does, hope you enjoy. It's from Astarion's perspective.

Gods, she was annoying

Gods she was annoying. Astarion gritted his teeth as somehow, despite the exhausting fight they had just been through and long day of walking, Vanya babbled on! Gale walked by her side, smiling at her observations on nature, the dinner they had last night, the gnolls they had just fought, her thoughts on whether she would keep her long plait or do something different with her hair tomorrow. Astarion had assumed that all elves were some form of stoicism or stillness, he and Halsin certainly were, but Vanya seemed all too keen to prove the opposite was true!

She scurried around camp, a giddy smile on her lips, greeting people as she went and they would infuriatingly beam back at her, which he was sure just encouraged her. It had taken them goodness knows how long to get out of the druid’s enclave because Vanya had stopped to chat with anyone and everyone, even the bloody animals! She’d almost been pickpocketed by one of the tiefling’s kids to boot because she had to stop to speak to the lad’s sister and Astarion managed to grab hold of the child’s arm before he could wriggle something out of Vanya’s pocket.

‘Really? I didn’t know there were many coastal druids,’ Gale’s comment to Vanya interrupted Astarion’s musings. 

‘Oh no, not many. It’s a bit of a strange calling, most elves like the forests or freshwater lakes or rivers, but we’re there! But I do like the forests too, there aren’t so many animals you can really adopt from the sea, I can’t keep a pet fish on my travels, though I did have a crab. He was very sweet, if a bit nippy.’

Gale’s laugh made Astarion clench his teeth. The greater annoyance Astarion had was somehow, for some unfathomable reason, he was beginning to like Vanya. She did everything seemingly to irritate him, launching herself into fights without so much as a by-your-leave, chaotically flinging around firebolts and laughing joyously as she did! She evidently, rarely ever thought a little tact, decorum and deception would go a long way to avoid a battle, but such things were impossible for Vanya if she thought someone was being wronged or hurt. 

And yet, despite all of her many faults and flaws, she was winning him over and he wasn’t even sure how or when she had begun to do so. Well, he knew what had triggered it, him telling her he wouldn’t sleep with her the night of the tieflings’ party. But the fact he didn’t find her desirable didn’t seem to bother her - she had gone round the entire camp flirting with anyone and everyone, leaving Gale flushed and Shadowheart wryly smiling and Halsin’s eyes following after her and even godsdamn Lae’zel looking at her differently. For him, she was too soft and round for his tastes. Round moon like face, messy red hair that swung behind her in its usual braid, freckles on her cheeks that put him in mind of someone splattering paint over a canvas, she did have beautiful blue eyes, he’d grant her that. And a fine neck. And he supposed that her body was… pleasing to most, but he wasn’t fussed by it. But in any case, it wasn’t finding her attractive that seemed to bother her, what seemed to niggle at her was him just not liking her. No one had to sleep with her, but she wanted everyone under the sun to like her. 

He thought she might learn what he liked, someone who bit back, who could be playful and sharp and acerbic, who might spar with him. But she didn’t, she just was… sweet and nice and kind and it was sickening. She’d rifle through an abandoned box or bag in the old goblin camp and find him a dagger or a lockpicking kit and exclaimed excitedly, ‘Oh, Astarion! This is perfect for you, here you go!’ She happily passed him a book on necromancy, though even that made Gale and Wyll sigh with exasperation. Astarion found himself talking to her about Cazador, admitting to things that he hadn’t told anyone else and- How in the gods’ holy arses had she done it? She’d just been her usual self and slowly worn him down. Was this how she did it with everyone else? Did everyone, who didn’t like her initially, get a concerted effort from her in winning them over? There must be someone who it hadn’t worked on, someone who still didn’t like her however much of a joyful, excitable pup she was. Astarion was tempted to hunt them down and demand they tell him how they resisted.

‘How is it Vanya that you have gone through life, adventuring and fighting, without someone taking advantage of your good nature and naivete?’ Astarion asked pointedly, making Gale and Vanya look around at him. Gale gave him a look and Astarion smirked back at him. Yes, your precious little druid is foolish and overly familiar and one day she’s going to get herself into a mess because she can’t keep her mouth shut or diving head first into situations where she isn’t wholly sure on what’s going on, Astarion thought to himself.

‘Hmm,’ Vanya said, because gods forbid she couldn’t even think quietly! ‘I don’t know.’

Astarion scowled. ‘You don’t know, what do you mean you don’t know?’

‘Do we really have to squabble before getting back to camp?’ Shadowheart asked. Astarion clicked his tongue with irritation. He would’ve thought that even Shadowheart would remain a little contemptuous and irritated by Vanya too, but somehow the druid had worked her charm spell on everyone and Shadowheart had long given up on being cool and sharp with her, except on rare occasions. Too rare for his liking. Only Lae’zel was left, his remaining ally, who would deride Vanya’s softer side. And even then, the githyanki seemingly enjoyed Vanya’s wild attitude when it came to fights. 

‘I guess people like me enough not to take advantage of me and the rest of the time it’s luck!’ Vanya said, turning back round to continue her conversation with Gale.

Astarion sputtered - which was the first time he had done such a thing, but how on earth could the woman be flippant about that too? ‘It’s just luck! No one has ever double-crossed you or used your good nature against you?’

Vanya pursed her lips in thought, then gave him a bright smile. ‘No, not yet. At least, not as far as I know, maybe they did and I just didn’t know about it!’

Gale burst out laughing and Vanya quickly joined him, though Astarion was sure she didn’t quite fully grasp on why such a thing was funny. Astarion glared at their backs and then at the ground. Godsdamn stupid druid with her stupid smile and stupid laugh and careless, thoughtless attitude and everyone in camp encouraging her.

‘You wouldn’t know half the time you had a parasite in your head from the way you take absolutely nothing seriously and waste time gadding about!’ he snapped. The laughter died immediately and while he kept his eyes fixed on Vanya, a tiny flicker of guilt crept into his stomach when he saw the small amount of reproach in her expression. 

‘I do take things seriously,’ she said, her voice suddenly even tempered and cool and measured. It had been what he wanted for weeks, but the tone of it felt wrong and so unlike her that he felt compelled to look away from her unfaltering gaze. ‘I’m worried about the tadpoles, i’m worried about all of you. It would kill me if anything were to happen to anyone here. But I spent a lot of my life not being able to laugh or find joy in things or meeting anyone new and getting to know them, and it’s no way to live, Astarion. So if I seem foolish or irreverent, it’s only because I don’t wish to wallow. I don’t wish to be serious and unable to crack a joke and make people laugh. And what is the good of being stoic and serious all the time? We are infected and there’s not much we can do to change that until we get to Moonrise towers. So I’m not going to sit in camp, feeling sorry for myself, languishing and getting upset when I can’t do anything about it. I may as well find joy where I can.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Gale said, and Astarion could have ripped his head off, but more because he felt… bad… for making Vanya feel bad. When she had spoken about not being able to laugh or meet new people, it didn’t sound like something she had chosen for herself or a malady affecting her in that way, it sounded like she was… coerced, controlled, ordered and he knew all too well the pain of that. Maybe she hadn’t suffered quite like him, but it sounded like whoever had done that had tried to crush her. 

The serious, sorrowful look on her face rapidly shifted and she smiled at him once more, though it looked a little forced and tired for once, and the guilt in his chest blazed hotter, tightening around his heart and throat. He was grateful they were so near camp and Vanya whipped round as Scratch (one of her blasted pets she had picked up) barked and came running up to greet them.

‘Scratch!’ Vanya cried happily and charged off, ruffling his fur and laughing as the dog licked her face and playfully bounced around. ‘I missed you! I missed you so much, how’s my good boy, my goodest of boys? You want to play? Come on, let’s go play! I left your ball in the chest, come on!’ The dog eagerly bounded after her.

Shadowheart left them to take off her armour and to wash, so Gale and Astarion were the only two left of the party who were still watching Vanya hunt through the travellers’ chest for Scratch’s ball. Astarion was about to make his way to his own tent when Gale caught hold of his sleeve.

‘Look, I know you don’t like her,’ Gale began.

‘I never said that,’ Astarion muttered, because the frustrating truth was he did like her.

‘But don’t hurt her in order to bring her down. She might handle things differently and sometimes her relentless optimism can be… a little much, but we need a cheery sort around camp. I think we’re all too serious sometimes. And I get it, someone will hurt her eventually and it might sour her and make her less willing to laugh and trust others, but I like her the way she is. So leave her be.’

And before Astarion could say anything in reply, Gale had already began walking over to join Wyll and Halsin by the fire, and Astarion didn’t know how to explain that he both couldn’t stand Vanya, but also liked her far too much.

[javathewildone]

One Day - Heartland AU (Pt. 31)

Parts: 30, ... 32

As it turned out, Amy was glad she volunteered for the task of preparing for Lisa’s early birthday bash. It provided the distraction she sought while also familiarizing her with the town of Hudson, and the people who called it home. Each morning Jack drove her to Maggie’s before the inmates arrived then picked her up after they’d gone, effectively avoiding any more unpleasant encounters.

The week wasn’t without its uncomfortable moments, though, when the friendliness of the townspeople resulted in Amy being pulled into hugs or made to shake hands. No matter how innocent their intentions, Amy didn’t think she’d ever be completely okay with strangers getting so close. Soraya became a much appreciated buffer once she realized Amy’s discomfort with being touched.

It was now Thursday night. The two of them were sitting on the porch of the ranch house putting together the decorative centerpieces for the tables that were being set up by Jack and Ty around the lawn. Everything was set for Lisa’s arrival tomorrow, minus a few guests who weren’t able to change their schedules so last minute. 

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Soraya asked, breaking the long silence.

“Go ahead.” Snipping a length of ribbon, Amy set the scissors down beside Lobo, who was sprawled out beside her. The dog seemed to have formed an attachment and Amy wasn’t the least bit upset over it. She just wished Jack would relax his no dogs in the house rule.

“I didn’t want to bring it up because it seemed like you didn’t really want to talk about it and I wanted to respect your privacy,” Soraya went on, causing Amy to grow nervous over her impending question. She did her best to hide it by focusing on tying the ribbon around her centerpiece. “There’s been chatter going around and, well, in these towns it’s sometimes hard to tell what’s true and what’s been… embellished.” 

Amy was still silent, her head bent with intense focus on making sure the tails of her bow were even. But her heart was racing with anxiety over what Soraya could have possibly heard about her. Clearly nothing good.

When her dark gaze flicked to Amy, sensing the tension rolling off her, Soraya reneged. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re hanging around for a while. We could use another woman around here.” She offered her a warm smile.

While she was relieved not to be put on the spot, Amy was still curious about what Soraya might have heard that she wanted the truth straight from Amy’s mouth, rather than believe the hearsay. “It’s okay, you can ask me.” The fact that Soraya respected Amy’s discomfort was enough for her to want to offer her an olive branch of sorts. Over the last couple days Soraya felt like a closer friend than Amy expected to find way out there.

“It’s really not that important. I swear.” Soraya brushed it off, but when Amy lifted her head she didn’t miss the way the other girl’s eyes passed over her midsection.

Amy sighed. Everyone else seemed to know, Soraya might as well, too. “Eleven weeks.”

She met Soraya’s wide gaze. “It is true then.” Her brown eyes moved off the porch toward Ty.

Amy’s followed. “It’s not Ty’s. We never met until I came to Heartland.” She assumed Kit had something to do with that bit of talk and frankly, couldn’t really fault her for thinking it. Still, Amy wanted to squash that rumor forever.

“I didn’t think so.” Soraya shook her head. “So, who?”

The uncomfortable silence returned. “Just some guy,” Amy responded dismissively, picking up her completed centerpiece to bring to one of the tables. Soraya raised her brow curiously, but let the topic drop when it was clear Amy had no more to say on the subject.

“Hey, that looks great! Nice job, you two.” Jack admired the simple floral decorations as Soraya came to place hers as well. It made Amy smile proudly at the yard. The centerpieces were the last piece of the decorations that she and Soraya picked out and set up while the guys drove around to their neighbors collecting the borrowed tables and chairs. 

“You think Lisa will like it?” She asked, not for the first time wondering if the colors and decorations chosen would be ones Lisa liked. Afterall, she never met the woman and Jack gave her full creative control. Once again she found herself grateful for Soraya’s help and input.

“I think she’ll love it.” Amy startled when Jack gave her arm a gentle squeeze, quickly sidestepping to cover up the reaction by brushing down the end of the table cloth that blew up from the breeze. If Jack noticed he didn’t comment and Amy didn’t dare look at him to see. 

“Well, I think that’s it for me tonight,” Soraya announced after they all took a moment to admire their hard work. “Now let’s just hope the weather holds.”

Jack was quick to shush her. “Don’t be tempting the fates now. The weather report says it’s to be a beautiful weekend.”

Soraya flashed a little smirk in Amy’s direction. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Jack.”

“There’s tents in the Quonset Hut if need be,” Ty chimed in, joining their huddle.

“We won’t be needing them.” Jack shot a look toward the clear evening sky. Amy joined him, for the first time realizing how truly clear it was that even with the small bit of light that still remained the first stars were bright. Her first few days there were rainy or overcast. The muggy mornings usually eased for some warm sun in the afternoon only to turn to more rain in the evening. If there was a clear night before then she’d been too exhausted to see it.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Soraya waved, then headed for her car.

“I think an early night would be a good idea for all of us.” Passing a final look over the yard, Jack nodded to himself before heading inside, leaving Ty and Amy alone. 

Not wanting the moment to turn awkward, Amy busied herself by cleaning up the remnants of her and Soraya’s art project. 

“Hey, how’d you get Caleb to play DJ?” Ty asked, coming to lean on the porch rail. It was a genuine curiosity knowing the tension between him and Jack ever since their falling out. Caleb would have made an appearance for Lisa, but it would have been brief.

Amy tugged a length of ribbon from beneath Lobo who sprawled out on top of it. “Isn’t that what he does?” she asked, raising a brow when Ty laughed.

“Uh, no. No, Caleb won that damn thing in a raffle at the local fair years ago. He tried to sell it to an actual DJ but ended up getting the guy to teach him how to use it instead so he could whip it out at house parties.”

“Oh. Well, Soraya batted her eyelashes and he agreed to it.” 

Ty nodded, amused. “Yeah, that’d do it.”

“Really? Soraya and Caleb?” Amy didn’t see that one. Not that she was one to judge. She barely knew either one of them. Caleb not at all. 

Ty shrugged. “They’ve had this mutual pining thing going on for years, but each of them is too afraid of ruining their friendship by acting on it. So we’ve all just learned to suffer through the heavy sexual tension.”

“Makes sense.” Amy wrapped the ribbon around her fingers then dropped it in the plastic bin with the rest of the supplies. “It would be pretty awkward to have a falling out and then have to see each other every day.”

Ty rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, thinking about Kit. “Yeah. Been there.” 

Amy hummed, knowing what he was thinking since she managed to get herself caught in the middle of it. “Anyway, she seemed to think he could handle it better than Stumpy. Whoever that is.”

“She’s not wrong there. As much as Lisa loves my grandfather, I don’t think she’d appreciate having to listen to Stumpy and his banjo brigade for a whole evening.”

Amy scrunched her nose. “I’m not sure that I would either.”

Ty chuckled. “Trust me, none of us would.” 

“Well, then it’s a good thing Caleb couldn’t say no to a pretty face.” Giving Lobo a last scratch, Amy picked up the plastic tub and stood. “I’m going to head in.”

“For the record,” Ty started, making Amy pause inside the screen door. “I didn’t doubt you’d be able to pull this together.” He waved a hand over the lawn.

“I didn’t think you did.” Well, maybe she had, but she was too busy to care. “Anyway, Soraya probably deserves most of the credit.”

Ty lifted a shoulder. “You both do. Goodnight, Amy.” He turned to head for the barn to do night check then head up to the loft where he continued to sleep even after his and Amy’s tentative truce. Amy frowned as she watched him go, but decided it wasn’t her concern where Ty slept. It just chafed that he still couldn’t bring himself to accept her place in the house.

Jack was still up preparing the coffee maker for the morning when Amy got inside. She made a face at it, getting a chuckle from the older man. “Still not so hot on the coffee smell, I see.”

“No, and I wish I would get over it, or that I could convince the baby that coffee equals comfort.” As much as she used to love the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning, it was worse watching everyone enjoying it. It wasn’t that she couldn’t drink it (so long as it was in moderation) she couldn’t even stomach it right now. 

“It’ll pass.” He slid the carafe into place then set the delayed brew timer. 

“Yeah, you keep saying that. I thought the second trimester was supposed to be the easiest,” Amy sighed, plopping the container on the dining table. 

“You’re not quite there yet.” Jack joined her in the dining room that was right beside his bedroom. A detail Amy found most convenient given it was ideal placement to hear both outer doors. It made her sneaking in of Lobo somewhat of a challenge. Which was why she’d only done it once since being caught the first time.

“Close enough.”

“I don’t think close enough counts in these situations.” 

“Probably not. I guess I should just be enjoying it now before I can no longer see my feet.” She looked straight down to her flats and wiggled her toes. Aside from the physical discomforts, she didn’t look pregnant. Her belly was finally starting to get a curve to it, but only noticeable to her as her pants became ever tighter. 

“I meant to ask: how did your appointment go with Dr. Virani?” In the havoc surrounding Lisa’s last minute change of plans, he completely forgot to inquire about the visit. 

And just like that the shadows began rolling back in and the walls started to rise. Jack could see it as clearly as Amy felt it. The last few days she only struggled in the nights. When she lay in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep because her demons came crawling back from where the busy day chased them away. The party planning was a temporary fix. She knew that when signing up. But now the party was here and she was out of distractions. 

“It went fine.” Amy answered, hoping that would suffice and Jack wouldn’t press for details. 

As usual Jack studied her like he knew more than he was letting on and was waiting for her to fess up. To offer some sliver of honesty about how she was really feeling with becoming a young mother. He knew what Ty discovered, or claimed to have discovered. It lingered in the back of his mind now any time he interacted with Amy, catching onto the hints and clues that what happened to her wasn’t just a mistake that led to a bad break, but something terrible and traumatic. He didn’t want that to become what defined Amy while she was at Heartland, though. She was clearly determined to forget what happened despite having to always carry the result with her. He understood her want and need for moving on. But he also believed she had to face it first. She was carrying a darkness with her that needed to be unburdened to leave room for her to fully heal. 

“So you’re going to stick with her, then,” he asked, instead of offering the strands of wisdom he knew she wouldn’t fully appreciate right now. 

“I think so. I mean, it’s not like there are a ton of other options, right?” Plus, Virani knew the truth. Amy didn’t need those records being sent off to some other doctor for them to look at her in some pitying way.

“Not unless you want to have to travel to Calgary every appointment.”

Amy lifted her brow. “Well, if you’d let me drive myself it wouldn’t have to be such an imposition.”

“I never said it was an imposition.” Jack was quiet a moment while he came to a decision. “Alright, listen. You’ve found your way around these last few days. I see no reason you can’t borrow a vehicle to take yourself to your appointments or run an errand or two.”

Standing straighter, a smile brightened Amy’s face. “Really?” Then immediately it faltered. “Wait, what’s the fine print?”

“Fine print?”

“The terms and conditions.” 

“Just one. You need to let one of us know where you’re going and when to expect you back. It’s still open country compared to what you’re used to and cell service is spotty in some places.” Reliable as their vehicles were, they weren’t the latest and greatest and broke down on occasion. Sometimes not in the most convenient of places.

Too excited about her new access to freedom, Amy didn’t bother to bring up the fact that she didn’t currently possess a cell phone. In a fit of petty spite, she purposely left hers on her bed back in her father’s apartment. At the time, she’d been so angry and hurt she hadn’t wanted to give him any way to contact her. Clearly, that was a wasted act of defiance when she was the one to reach out in desperation. Now, it felt like she was just entirely disconnected with the outside world. Oddly, something she wasn’t quite as upset about as she thought she would be. 

“Okay, fair.” Amy nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks, Jack.” She beamed at him then headed to bed, leaving Jack to feel like he finally managed to gain some ground with her.

[cyberplex]

Howdy, Kit, and welcome to the Cyberplex! Please submit your account to the main in the next 72 hours and look over the rest of our checklist here. We look forward to seeing Aslan Sakarya, Cyrus Whitewater, Draven Thorne, Ezekiel ‘Zeke’ Cohen, Kali Dicamillo, Lucky Wallis, Ophelia Gomez, Rafferty ‘Rafe’ O’shea, Remington Cerulli, and Sebastian ‘Bash’ Prescott on the dash.

michael cimino / he/him  ———  no way is that SEBASTIAN ‘BASH’ PRESCOTT .. they’re a 24-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being IRRESPONSIBLE  &  ENTITLED but there are some people who have seen them being EXTROVERTED  &  AMUSING.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of setting five+ alarms and ignoring them all, crude words falling from privileged lips, spontaneous yacht trips, fake ids, waking up not remembering the night before, but that could just be because they’re considered the SILVER SPOON TROUBLEMAKER around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through.. /  kit, 30+, they/she, MST

andy biersack / he/they  ———  no way is that DRAVEN THORNE.. they’re a 32-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being CYNICAL  &  OBSESSIVE but there are some people who have seen them being INTELLIGENT  &  METICULOUS.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of ice cold gazes, a dark room only lit by the glow of a computer screen, sunglasses worn indoors, a wardrobe filled with black clothing, and nefarious meetings in abandoned locations, but that could just be because they’re considered the CRACKER around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..    /  kit, 30+, they/she, MST

barry keoghan / he/him  ———  no way is that RAFFERTY ‘RAFE’ O’SHEA.. they’re a 30-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being AGGRESSIVE  &  CRUDE but there are some people who have seen them being STRONG  &  RESILIENT.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of bloodied knuckles, the taste of iron and salt lingering on the tongue, holes punched in the wall, whiskey soaked laughter, and an irish accent that ebbs and flows through conversation,  but that could just be because they’re considered the FIGHTING IRISH around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..  /  kit, 30+, they/she, MST

matthew lillard / he/him  ———  no way is that LUCKY WALLIS.. they’re a 29-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being RECKLESS  &  FOOLISH but there are some people who have seen them being EASYGOING  &  HYPER.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of the smell of marijuana lingering in the air, a neon lit highly organized game/stream room, ever changing hair colors, worn skateboard strapped to a backpack, zoning out mid conversation, but that could just be because they’re considered the SLACKER around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

alperen duymaz / he/him  ———  no way is that ASLAN SAKARYA.. they’re a 31-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being IMMORAL  &  VICIOUS  but there are some people who have seen them being METICULOUS  &  EFFICIENT.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of slowly opening a leather roll of excruciatingly sharp instruments, unbuttoning cuffs of a dress shirt and rolling up his sleeves, don’t bleed on my floor, black leather gloves, a dark silhouette patiently waiting in the chair of an empty living room for its owner to turn on the light, but that could just be because they’re considered the PUNCH-CLOCK VILLAIN around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

keanu reeves / he/him  ———  no way is that CYRUS WHITEWATER.. they’re a 59-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being a WORKAHOLIC  &  ELUSIVE but there are some people who have seen them being PROTECTIVE  &  INDUSTRIOUS.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of an exhausted sigh after a very long work day, the clicking of a metronome in an otherwise quiet room, spreadsheets and projection documents, mahogany and corinthian leather, daily text messages to loved ones to check in, but that could just be because they’re considered the PAPA WOLF around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

aaron taylor-johnson / he/him  ———  no way is that EZEKIEL ‘ZEKE’ COHEN.. they’re a 33-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being INDECISIVE  &  COCKY but there are some people who have seen them being FRIENDLY  &  TALKATIVE.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of filling silences to avoid dead air, a smile that lights up the room, quick winks followed by a click of the tongue, well groomed curls, a glowing red ‘on air’ sign, but that could just be because they’re considered the MOTOR MOUTH around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through.. 

krysten ritter / she/her  ———  no way is that KALI DICAMILLO.. they’re a 36-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being STUBBORN  &  SNARKY but there are some people who have seen them being INTUITIVE  &  DILIGENT.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of chipped dark nail polish, constantly cleaning grease from fingernails, deadpanned responses, whiskey in coffee, multiple tool kits for every occasion, but that could just be because they’re considered the DEADPAN SNARKER around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

  jenna ortega / she/her  ———  no way is that OPHELIA GOMEZ.. they’re a 22-year-old SYNTH notoriously known for being SUPERSTITIOUS  &  NIHILISTIC but there are some people who have seen them being SUPPORTIVE  &  ADVENTUROUS.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of gothic down to the core, taxidermy animals in cute costumes, creepy quiet appearances, out of place smile that doesn’t match the aesthetic, speckled freckles that accentuate facial features, but that could just be because they’re considered the NIGHTMARE FETISHIST around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through.. 

maxence danet fauvel / he/they  ———  no way is that REMINGTON CERULLI.. they’re a 27-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being CHAOTIC  &  IMPULSIVE but there are some people who have seen them being TALENTED  &  DEVOTED.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of bandaged fingers from shredding too many riffs, climbing stage equipment, waking up after noon on a regular basis, screaming stage dives, outfits and makeup defying gender norms, but that could just be because they’re considered the DIRTBAG around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

[creativeprice]

The Unstoppable Rise: Why Jeep Wranglers Have Become So Popular

Introduction:

Over the past few decades, the automotive world has witnessed the meteoric rise of a true icon – the Jeep Wrangler. With its rugged design, off-road capabilities, and timeless appeal, the Jeep Wrangler has captured the hearts of adventure enthusiasts and casual drivers alike. This article delves into the reasons behind the unparalleled popularity of the Jeep Wrangler, exploring the factors that have made it a dominant force in the automotive market.

Timeless Design: One of the key factors contributing to the enduring popularity of the Jeep Wrangler lies in its timeless design. Rooted in the iconic military Jeep used during World War II, the Wrangler's distinct and rugged appearance has remained largely unchanged over the years. This timeless design creates a sense of nostalgia, evoking memories of classic off-roading adventures while maintaining its relevance in contemporary automotive culture.

Unmatched Off-Road Capabilities:

The Jeep Wrangler is synonymous with off-road prowess, and its reputation as a go-anywhere vehicle is well-earned. Built to tackle the toughest terrains, the Wrangler's four-wheel-drive system, high ground clearance, and heavy-duty axles allow it to conquer mud, rocks, sand, and snow with ease. Whether it's for rock crawling, desert dune bashing, or simply exploring uncharted trails, the Wrangler has become the vehicle of choice for those seeking thrilling off-road escapades.

Strong Community and Culture: Jeep owners form a tight-knit community, and the Jeep culture is unlike any other in the automotive world. From local meet-ups and off-roading events to dedicated online forums, Jeep owners share a sense of camaraderie, passion, and adventure. This strong sense of community creates an emotional connection with the brand, leading to a high level of brand loyalty and repeat customers.

Customization and Personalization: The Jeep Wrangler's modular design makes it incredibly customizable, allowing owners to create a vehicle that suits their unique tastes and needs. From lift kits and aftermarket accessories to unique paint jobs and customized interiors, the possibilities for personalization are endless. This level of individuality appeals to consumers who want to stand out and showcase their personality through their vehicles.

Versatility and Practicality: Beyond its off-road prowess, the Jeep Wrangler offers practicality and versatility for everyday use. Its four-door models provide ample passenger space and cargo capacity, making it a family-friendly option for both city commuting and weekend adventures. Additionally, the removable doors and roof allow drivers to experience the thrill of open-air driving, connecting them with nature and the freedom of the road.

Enduring Legacy and Brand Image: Jeep's long-standing reputation for building rugged, dependable, and capable vehicles has contributed to the Wrangler's popularity. As one of the most recognizable and respected automotive brands globally, Jeep has cultivated an image of adventure, exploration, and reliability. This reputation attracts consumers who seek a sense of adventure and reliability in their vehicles.

For more info:-

Why Jeep Wranglers Have Become So Popular

[skyfcx]

     Before, you had his curiosity. Now, you have his intrigue. The metal monster's answer... a kit leans back, you can practically sense the 'Huh' his lips then mouth. Boy, that Amy sure was something special, weren't they? The same string of thoughts loading into Metal's cybernetic conscience are mirrored in Tails's ever-active mind. He should be here destroying everything in his path. His directive was violence and oppression of the highest order. He acted for Eggman, not himself.

     Yet here he was, his current mission status being movie listings. The fact that the machine was technically just bargained with was a truly insane notion that the fox was still processing. The second that happened, he should have been snatched into a chokehold until his life was the commodity being haggled for. Whatever Amy was doing with Metal Sonic in her free time, it was clearly working.

     Intrigued by Amy's interests. That sentence alone broke so many laws of Metal Sonic's coding that he didn't even know where to begin...

     But as the conversation turned back to the kit, a bashful smile was quickly fitted into as modesty returned to its station and snuffed out that brazen attitude of his. "Of course, of course. I'm plenty acquainted with my luck and know when somethin's pushin' up against it. I'll be right back with your movies." And true to his word, it's but a hop, skip, and a jump away. Seconds later, an orange flash drive is held between index and thumb for the other to see upon the fox's return.

     ...Though, a pause. Halting for just a second more before it's handed over.

     "—A word of advice, and this one's on the house. It's real nice that you're going out of your way to figure out what Amy likes t'watch, but she'd be even happier if you found something you liked watching, too! Just as you're interested in what she likes, I'm sure that she feels the same way about your interests! Don't put these on just for her, put'em on for the both of you!"

     A smile, one both honest and hopeful. The flash drive was held out for the other to take. "Got a library of around one-hundred and twenty-six movies on there. I'm, uh... I'm the supplier for our group's movie nights if ya couldn't tell, heh. They've already seen a good number of those on there, but there's a bunch they haven't seen, either! Pick through'em with her, see which ones suit your guys' fancy."

    ��His glove waves goodbye... "If you're needin' some movie night snack recommendations next, feel free to stop by again, Metal!"

... A trade of information? Fine. Very well. It was only fair that the notorious blue killing machine (which really should, by all means, be threatening and even imposing himself upon Tails to gather what he needs) peacefully agree to this trade. The only reason he doesn't opt to take it by force is because he knows the reaction that he will recieve if he admitted what he'd done.

But what did that matter? Can't he just lie?

He's always been good at lying.

...

.. Did he enjoy the movie nights? These were all such foreign interests for something as cold and heartless as him. The fact that he was even here at all, requesting movies of all things when in reality he SHOULD be here searching for Chaos Emeralds...

Did the heartless, metallic marvel suddenly have a change of perspective?

[ :// ... I do not know if I enjoy them. ] Its monotone voice lacks any indication of confidence in its admission. [ :// The movies themselves are mediocre. Even the 'horror' movies that I chose do not incite any significant emotion or reaction. ]

[ :// But Amy's interest has been... intriguing. I am.. collecting data. Further analysis is necessary. ]

He decides to skirt around the true reason he has any interest at all.

[ :// Do not push your luck.] It's advised of his last, tacked-on condition. Now, he fully turns towards Tails, expecting an answer to HIS question.

[blue-fidelity]

~ “Smile In The Face of Tragedy”

Chapter One: Beer Run

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

(Y/N) reminisces the events of the summer before senior year. It’s her last year of High School, and she wants to start fresh, the pretty newcomer with shiny blue eyes is willing to help with that.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, abuse (could be trigger warning, reader has a hard past)

The year of 1984 had come into full swing, and (Y/N) had tried to make the rest of her junior year somewhat enjoyable. After the incident with the demogorgon around Christmas, she wanted to focus on the lighter side of life. Which was mainly dicking around with her best friend, and crush, Steve Harrington. Things were going great, till the summer. 

‘Summer of ‘84. She dubbed it, “The Summer of Steve & Nancy”. Months usually consisted of Steve and Nancy trying to fix the shattered fragment of what their relationship was, whilst (Y/N) and Jonathan watched on the sidelines. Steve would come to (Y/N)’s house at ungodly hours of the night, usually sneaking through her window. 

She’s just been so distant, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong- he’d whimper, laying his head on her lap. She tried to contain her tears, for him. If only she could tell Steve that there was someone better for him, someone that could make him happy. There was one problem with that, though. Steve loved Nancy. It’s not like (Y/N) could change that, and it killed her. Seeing her best friend in this state though, it was another level. She wanted to scream at Nancy, scream at her for stringing Steve on a loose thread that she could’ve easily cut. Instead Nancy hid her feelings for Jonathan and carried on this dance with Steve. 

It just wasn’t fair, though, nothing really seemed fair at this point. Everything would eventually come crashing down and it’d leave a trail of broken hearts in the process, but atlast, (Y/N) would keep her head up high. She’d try her best not to fall into the deep end of emotions she wasn’t able to handle. If anything turned down hill, she knew she’d have one thing. Her brother, Dustin. 

Dustin was the ray of happiness that (Y/N) projected off of, to his charismatic personality and bright smile, she was like him in many ways. Moments spent with her brother we’re always great, they had a surprisingly better relationship then most siblings did. It was probably because (Y/N) was secretly a nerd, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, she probably liked D&D even more than her brother did. That’s why she absolutely loved joining Dustin and his friends on their sessions. 

This made the party worship her in a way, and she couldn’t help but find it adorable. It’s not everyday you get a bunch of middle schoolers fawn after you. So despite the never ending months of trying to mend Steve’s broken heart, the summer wasn’t a total bust. In fact, she loved the days she spent with those boys (even though it was a little hard to carpool when she drove a Harley Davidson, Mike was always willing to lend his family’s station wagon). 

Now, she was nearly two months into her senior year, and she decided to make it count. After all, it was her last year of high school before college. It was the day before Halloween, and she couldn’t be more excited. Dustin and the rest of the party were pretty hyped about spending their first night trick or treating unchaperoned, if  (Y/N) remembered correctly he stated, “(Y/N)! We are 13, practically men! As men we fetch our own candy”. To this she giggled, ruffling her brother’s curls, “Well young man, you must save your sister some Kit-Kats”.

- 

(Y/N) knew Tina, the only popular girl that really tolerated her was going to throw a party at her place. She had called her last night all excited about her, “Halloween Bash”, and how she wanted (Y/N) to help plan it. “The guys at the liquor store won’t say no to a hot chic on a motorcycle!”, of course Tina wanted her to get the beer. (Y/N) didn’t even drink that much! Only on occasions, but Tina was her friend. So after school today, she was going to head to ‘Hawkins local liquor store, and PRAY TO GOD she could hide the kegs from her mother. It was moments like these she wished she had a car to stash things in.

She pulled up into Hawkins High’s parking lot, “Toys in The Attic”  by Aerosmith playing loudly on her stereo. Spending a whole summer with middle schooler’s kind of made her forget about her social status. If it made sense, (Y/N) wasn’t in the “popular clique”, being Steve’s best friend just gave her a title. Those who didn’t like her called her, “Steve’s Wannabe Queen”, which was partially true, whilst others who liked her didn’t name her anything. She was just, “(Y/N) Henderson”. A face that simply stood out in the crowd because of sheer confidence, kindness, and a vibe that screamed cool. Guys wanted to fuck her, girls wanted to be her. It was a classic High School cliché.

Tina waved at her as she parked her ‘Harley beside her car. She was with Carol and another girl who she couldn’t name. “Hey (Y/N/N), I was just telling the ladies you’ll be supplying the beer for tomorrow?”, she said, to which (Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Only because you know the creeps down there won’t turn me down, come on Tina I feel used”, she fake pouted. The girls all laughed, continuing to talk about the party. 

As the girls continued their conversation, (Y/N)’s Aerosmith seemed to be drowned out by the familiar sound of The Scorpions, “Rock You Like A Hurricane”. A fellow metal head such as herself in Hawkins Indiana? ‘This couldn’t be possible. About everyone in this town had shitty taste in music, besides her and Jonathan. She turned down her stereo and directed her view to the sound, eyes being met with an ocean blue Camaro, with a California license plate. How fitting. Whoever the driver was, had sped into the parking spot beside hers. 

The group of girls behind her stared eagerly to see who this suspicious newcomer was, and if (Y/N) was being honest, she was kind of curious as well. The driver door swung open, and the driver’s combat boots grounded him to the concrete. That’s when she saw him, and he saw her, too. 

Something radiated off him, almost a confidence higher than hers. It was cockiness, and at first glance, she could see right through him. Denim jacket, cuffed jeans, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. That was her first impression, and damn was he definitely good looking. For a moment, Steve had been wiped from her brain. Replaced with blonde curls and pretty blue eyes that bore into hers. “Whatcha looking at, princess?”, he smirked- eyeing her up and down like an animal staring down its prey. (Y/N) tried to contain herself, she wasn’t about to be wooed by the new playboy. 

“I’m simply looking at your car, 1979 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28, right?”, her car knowledge would get her out of this one. “Right you are sweetheart, pleasure to see one of the girls in this town has common sense”, he grinned, showing his pearly whites. “Well if you're ‘lookin for that trait in the rest of the girls here, I think you’d sadly be disappointed”, she smiled, gesturing to her “friends”. Tina and the other’s let out gasps. The newcomer shook his head, plucking his cigarette from his lips. “Well I guess I’ll see you and your senseless friends around then, huh?”, “I guess so”. He strutted to the school. 

“You whore! Way to throw us under the bus like that”, Tina scowled, slapping (Y/N) on the shoulder. She only laughed, “Well, couldn’t lie to the guy now could I?”. Well wasn’t (Y/N) feeling pretty proud about herself right now? She could really be a sarcastic fuck sometimes, huh? 

-

In a way, (Y/N) loved school. Her place made her feel validated, and she got pretty good grades. What was there not to love? As she was at her locker, her peachy attitude soon turned to discomfort. The happy squeals of Nancy could be heard from a few lockers away as Steve spun her around. She smiled at the couple, yet it still made her heart ache. (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice Jonathan awkwardly walking away from them, passing by her. Steve looked at his girlfriend with sparkles in his eyes. He genuinely seemed joyful, and in a way she was happy for him. Still, that aching feeling was there, and at this point it seemed nothing could replace it. 

Later that day, during art class (which was last period), she found out the new guy's name was Billy Hargrove.  Fresh out from sunny California a week ago. She questioned why someone like him would choose art out of all things for his creative credit, but, maybe he’d surprise her. The class was filled with a very “out of the box”, group of people. They might’ve been (Y/N)’s favorite out of the student body. The art room was a space for open opinions, and creativity. Everyone was interesting in their own individual way, but somehow, Billy managed to stand out. 

When he entered the class, everyone was already working on their current pieces. Mr. Axworthy, who insisted everyone called him “Mr. Ax”, had assigned a new project about a week ago. Every year he gave students an assignment to represent themselves, this year it was painting your favorite album cover. Though (Y/N) had many favorites, she chose The Clash’s “London Calling”, and was currently working on the shading. She was calmly sitting at her easel when she heard the teacher speak, “Mr. Hargrove! Pleasure to have you in our art class, there’s a free spot beside Mrs. Henderson, she’ll explain the current project to you!”. (Y/N) gave “Mr. Hargrove” a slight smile as he walked towards her.

“So, Henderson, huh? Got a first name?”, he questioned, showing that cocky smirk. “It’s, (Y/N), yours?”, “Billy. Billy Hargrove”.  Now she knew his name- and it somehow added to his intoxicating aura. Call it fascination- but, Billy’s presence overwhelmed her in a way, and she didn’t even know him that well! It’s not like her feelings for Steve disappeared, just anytime those shimmering blue eyes glanced her way, her heart raced. Maybe Billy was the void waiting to fill that aching feeling, and she just hadn’t realized it yet. Everyone was telling her to move on, that it wasn’t worth it, but- to her, Steve was worth it. The one thing that wasn’t worth it though, was chasing a dream that wasn’t going to come true. 

As (Y/N) was explaining the project to Billy, she was surprised by how attentive he was. If he could get excited about one thing, it was music. “So how are your art skills?”, she asked, “A little rusty, but nothing you can’t show me”, he grinned, taking one of his paint brushes and dipping it into some red paint. (Y/N) thought he’d go for the canvas, but he surprisingly smeared the paint onto her cheeks. She stared at him in shock- “Wha-what the hell did you do that for?!”, she exclaimed. “Just thought I could add to the flush on your cheeks!”, he laughed, of course he’d notice her blushing.  Two could play at this game. “Well, you know what I think your face could use?”, “Oh yeah? What’s that?”, “Some green!”, she shouted, painting a big green line on his face. Before their paint war could continue, Mr. Axworthy had noticed.

“I hate to interrupt, but shouldn’t the paint go on your canvas?”, he motioned to our easels. “Well of course Mr. Ax, but when it comes to the concept of art, isn’t everything a canvas?” she giggled, leaving Mr. Axworthy speechless. “Well, yes- but I’d prefer you’d not interrupt the class and actually help Billy start his project”, he states. “Definitely, he had just finished telling me he wanted to do Metallica’s ‘Kill ‘em All, isn’t that correct, Mr. Hargrove?”, “Yes that is correct!”. “Well then, carry on, you can wash the paint off your faces at the end of class”. 

By the time class finished, Billy had at least finished the base coat of his painting whilst (Y/N) had time to finish her shading. Now, they needed to step into the halls with paint all over their faces-how embarrassing. It was as if Mr. Axworthy wanted them to be publicly humiliated! In a way, (Y/N) didn’t blame him, it was a good form of punishment. When the pair walked the halls, they received awkward glances. Billy simply rolled his eyes, who were they to judge him? He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring smile, “Let them stare, I know you got rep around this joint, they have no reason to give you dirty looks, aight?”. It was nice to have reassurance from Billy, but from getting to know him, he generally had that ‘don’t give a fuck attitude’. She wasn’t worried about the paint. She was worried what people would think if they saw her, the girl who had been pining for Steve forever, under another guy's arms. The new hotshot nonetheless. 

Luckily Billy was called over by Tommy, of course he had already been recruited by that group. Despite her very much fun art class with him, she was feeling uneasy with all the looks she was getting from people, and to make matters worse, Steve was standing at her locker. He waved her over with a smile, to which she headed over to him. 

“Hey Stevie”, she beamed at him. Damn she still couldn’t resist that adorable face. “Hiya (Y/N/N), saw you walking with ‘Hargrove”, he smirked. “Oh yeah, that- we just have art together, nothing big”, she blushed, I guess Billy really was getting to her. “That explains the paint on your cheeks?”, he pointed at the red coated on her face. “Just a small mishap I guess”, she chuckled. “So what brings Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington to my locker?” she inquired. “Just wanted to see my bestie, it’s been a while”, he smiled softly, poking her side. It really had been a while, (Y/N) really couldn’t remember the last time Steve looked at her happily. It gave her a sense of comfort to see him so cheerful. “It really has- I’d hate to cut this short, but I really have to get some errands done, but I’ll see you at the party tomorrow?”, “Definitely! I’ll see you then”, he bid her goodbye, kissing her on the cheek. Her hands grazed her cheek, touching where he just kissed. “Oh and Henderson! Let’s hangout sometime, yeah?”, he shouted to her, “That’d be great!”. 

Before heading to the parking lot, she stopped at the bathroom to wash the paint off. She checked to see if anyone was there, luckily there wasn’t. The girl really didn’t need anymore dirty looks. She grabbed some paper towels, running them under warm water. While she whipped the paper towel over her face, she took the time to look at herself. What was she doing? Was she really going to let Steve slip away that easily?  Billy had just entered her life, and had obviously taken an interest in her. What was the risk of jumping into things too quickly? She couldn’t wait forever. That’s when she decided. (Y/N) was going to allow herself to get lost in the new overwhelming feeling of Billy Hargrove. 

-

(Y/N) drove down the quiet back roads of Hawkins, making her way to the liquor store. If the town wasn’t sketchy enough, having the liquor store away from civilization made it even sketchier. She really didn’t like coming here, the last time (Y/N) came here was for another one of Tina’s parties. It was for the end of the summer, at Lover’s Lake. It was quite the blowout, till Hopper came to shut it down. Fortunately she didn’t get caught that night, her mother would’ve killed her, and she wasn’t about to spend the night in jail. 

Now, (Y/N) wanted to give the cashier an offer he couldn’t refuse. The process was simple, bat her eyelashes, show plenty of cleavage, talk innocently, and then figure out how to put two fucking kegs in the side car of her motorcycle! She glanced down at the outfit she was wearing, a simple low-cut red t-shirt with some high rise acid wash jeans, and a leather jacket. The leather jacket could go. She strutted to the counter of the store, knowing they held the kegs in the back storage, it was time to turn on the charm. Borris, the regular cashier, was in his late 60’s, and she absolutely hated the way he looked at her. It made her feel grose, but she wasn’t about to let Tina down. 

Boris contentedly stared her down, obviously checking her out. On the inside, she shivered, but she kept on a smile. “Anything I can do for you pretty lady?”, he asked, grinning. “Yes, I was wondering if you can hook me up with a few kegs? ‘You see I got this party tomorrow, up in Indianapolis! It’s a big college thing, ‘can’t have a good time without alcohol”, that oughta convince him. “Sure thing sweets, I’ll grab some for you, how many shall it be?”. He didn’t even ask her for her ID! “Two will be just fine! Thank you so much!”. He brought them up to the counter, shit those look heavy, she thought. “How much does it come to?”, (Y/N) asked. “Oh, on the house, anything for a pretty girl looking to have a good time”, score! He almost offered to help bring them out- till a familiar voice cut in. 

“It’s no problem Boris, I’ll help her out, just grab me a pack of cigs mhm?”, Billy Hargrove, of course. “Your usual William?”, questioned Boris. “That’ll be just fine”. (Y/N) was stunned. Did it just happen to be a coincidence that he walked through the door? More like a sign. He took hold of one of the kegs, while she grabbed the other. They both headed outside. 

“Stalking me, Hargrove?”, she smirked. “Absolutely not! I just happened to need more cigarettes, and I noticed a familiar Harley Davidson, don’t flatter yourself”, he placed the keg down, lighting a cigarette. “Sure...and you deliberately wanted to help me with the kegs?”, “The guys a creep! I’m sure you didn’t want to be around him any longer”, he huffed, blowing smoke from his lips. “Aww, you protecting me Hargrove? That’s cute!”, she giggled.

Even though Billy hated to admit it, he loved when she laughed. She ignited this glow that was hard to describe- though, it made him feel warm. It made him feel good. When he arrived here, his goal was to sleep with nearly every girl who made eyes at him, he’d make a list, and then he’d check it off one by one. That all changed when he saw her. She was different, she had this spark that came with her quick wit that left him wanting more. Was he going to tell her that? No, not yet, but it seems his “friendship” with her was growing quicker than he expected. 

“I’m not protecting you..just-shut up”, why was he getting so flustered? This was so unlike him. “Whatever Hargrove, just help me load these into my sidecar will yah?”, she struggled to hold the keg. “Sweetheart, are you sure those will fit in there?’, he questions, looking at her struggling. “You got any better ideas?”,  she groaned impatiently. In fact- Hargrove did have an idea, whether she’d agree, he really didn’t know. 

“Here me out- you and I both know those aren’t going to hold in there, and I know why you need them, so why don’t I stash them in the Camaro, and you and I can go to the party together?”, he offered, waiting eagerly for her response. She hesitantly looked down at the kegs, and then back up at him. “Billy- are you sure? I don’t want you going through all that trouble, what if your parent’s found them?”, she questioned worriedly, biting her lip. “My parents won’t notice a damn thing, if they even touch my car- it’s their dead body on my hands”, he laughed, though she could see his shoulders tense up, the question had obviously bothered him. “Well alright then...let’s load them into your trunk”. 

Once the kegs were in, Billy closed his car trunk tightly. Smiling at (Y/N) he took another puff of his cigarette, leaning against the back of his car. “So what are you going as?”, he wondered, staring at her. (Y/N) had spaced out, not really getting what he meant. “What do you mean?”, she asked. “For the Halloween party, what’s your costume?”, “Oh! I'm going as Sarah Connor from the new Terminator movie?”, she explained, wondering if he’d heard of it. “Nice, I was told that movie was supposed to be good”. Why did this conversation feel so awkward? “It really was, I went to go see it with my little brother”, she grinned. 

“You got a little sibling- me too, well step sister, but that doesn’t matter”, he muttered the last bit, inhaling more of his cigarette. “Do you two get along?”, she questioned, “No-not really-just, can we change the subject?!”, he raised his voice slightly, startling her a bit. He really didn’t want to talk about his family. ‘I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to pry- I should go-”, she whispered, heading back to her motorcycle. (Y/N) turned on her heel, flinching when she felt Billy take a slight hold on her wrist. “Wait- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to startle you”, his words were shaky, as he kept his grip on her wrist. She slipped his hand off her wrist, staring at him blankly. (Y/N) wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to say at this moment. “It’s just- when I moved here, I wanted to start fresh and the idea of my family just-it makes it hard”, he says sharply. “I just don’t like talking about it”. 

(Y/N) nodded her head slightly, she didn’t really know what Billy went through when he moved to Hawkins, and whatever it was, seemed to trigger him. In a way, (Y/N) knew what it felt like. She and her family moved to Indiana in 1979, when she just started middle school. It was hard to adjust, and Hawkins was a lot different from her last home. They left because her father had walked out on them. Though it was traumatic, it wasn’t like he was a very good dad. He’d come home late from work, usually drunk and angry. (Y/N) still had scars from when he beat her. It made her insides twitch, shivering at the thought of the still present stitches on her back. The night she got them, her father had been particularly cheesed off,  luckily her mom and Dustin weren’t home. Her mother was having a well deserved ‘ladies night’ while her brother was at a sleepover. 

The night started off calmly, (Y/N) had been contently listening to records in her room while her father was watching football down the hall. She knew he had been drinking, she never saw him without alcohol in his hands. That’s why she didn’t drink that much, she’d hate to turn out like him. Her door was locked, to make sure he wouldn’t come in. She cringed when she heard glass shatter in the other room, footsteps slowly approaching her door. She hopped out of her bed, muttering ‘fuck-fuck-fuck’, under her breath. At this point she had gotten scared. Her dad knocked harshly on her door, “(Y/N), you better fucking open this door, or I’ll knock it down myself”- he yelled, voice booming. That’s when she realized. I’ll go out the window. (Y/N) quietly opened the window latch, slipping through the frame. Luckily her house was only one story, so there was no risk of falling. 

She thought she had been safe, till her father noticed she escaped from the window. (Y/N) barely had a chance to leave the driveway till her father spotted her, tackling her to the ground. Her chest hit the cold pavement, groaning in pain as her father pinned her wrists to the asphalt. Not getting a chance to notice the kitchen knife in his left hand, he unexpectedly slashed the blade against her back. She wailed as the knife dented her skin, begging for her dad to stop as tears filled her eyes. By chance her mother had entered the driveway before her father could do anymore damage.  (Y/N) never understood why her mom didn’t call 9-1-1, just simply drove her to the hospital to get stitches. It was probably out of fear, and it was only a few nights after the incident that he disappeared. When Dustin found out what happened, even with only being eight years old at the time, she swore he was ready to kill him. 

- 

When she stared back at him, she had a sympathetic look in her eyes.  “It’s okay B, just- if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here”.  He smiled slightly at the small nickname, looking at her softly, “Thanks, no one’s really offered that before”. He scratched his neck nervously, lighting out his cigarette. “Hug it out?”, she extended her arms out cheekily. Hug it out? Billy Hargrove didn’t hug it out- but she seemed so sincere-  he pulled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. He couldn’t resist smelling her hair, it smelled almost tropical- like the salty scent of the ocean breeze that reminded him of home. For the first time, Billy felt at peace in this new town. He knew that if she stocked around, he could bring himself to be happy, and as luck would have it, she was planning to. 

Next Chapter: smile-in-the-face-of-tragedy

Authors Note: The time has come and the first chapter is here! I hope you guys enjoyed, feedback is greatly appreciated 😊! If anyone else wants to be in the tag-list, feel free to comment below!

Tag-list: @holychocopie

[joelockescoffee]

Honestly Kit could be queer or straight. Joe and Bash could be dating or fwb or just really good friends. Or any other answers to any other questions in the fandom. I just hope Kit and Joe are actually friends and not just lying for the show/press. Clearly they get along fine but I mean actually being friends. Like you see a lot when celebrities say how close they are to their co star only for it to turn out to be obviously not true. I think that’d be the only thing that broke my heart.

Yeah I can see Kit and Joe get along well and are very comfortable with each other, trust me some people including me can really tell when its just fan service and that's definitely not the case with these two, they're so real, damn, it's one of the things I admire the most about them. Joe and Bash, whatever it is that they have, I can tell it's genuine, I'm so happy for them.

[andrwgarfields]

Hi. I'm new to the fandom and just started watching the show and already love it and the actors. I've been trying to figure out all the information myself but it's so confusing lol. I came across your blog and thought maybe you could help me out and explain some things. And I apologize in advance for my bad English, it's not my native language. 1) How and why did Kit come out? I mean, I remember there was a big uproar that he was forced to, but why did he decide to do it? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure a straight guy playing a gay character is nothing new in Hollywood and he's not the first actor who could be suspected of something. And if I remember correctly, he was in a relationship with a girl at the time. So why did he come out in the end? Was there dirt on him? I know that some stars who came out did so under this type of pressure. Was there a similar situation with Kit? 2) Are/were Joe and Sebastian Croft dating? From what I've found, it looks like they were dating from the start? But they certainly haven't talked about it openly. But what's up with them now? Did they break up? And I see a lot of hate towards Sebastian. Did he hurt Joe somehow? I read something about Sebastian being horrible to Joe, but is that true? 3) Are Kit and Joe really good friends? How close are they? I don't think they're together (I wish they were, lol), but I like their friendship from the few interviews I've watched. Are there any of your favorites that you could recommend? 4) Is there a name for Joe and Kit otp? I still haven't figured that one out 😄

aw these are such adorable questions and please don’t apologise for your english its literally perfect

1. There has been pressure on kit ever since he claimed as being unlabelled when it comes to sexuality, it was something he said he wanted to keep for himself and general public was surprisingly cruel about it saying he just does not want to admit he is straight cause he does not want to kill the fantasy or whatever messed up things. Then yeah i would say the pictures/videos of him with a girl (still unsure if they were in a relationship, they never admitted to any kind of relationship so idk what to say about it) kinda led to an increase of such queerbating comments (in which real people cannot do) and i guess he was sick of it hence coming out regarding his sexuality suddenly on twitter.

2. Joe and Bash never claimed anything regarding their relationship but fans have always assumed they were dating cause they were always hanging out together and bash went to joe’s hometown in the Isle of Man and all that but yeah no specific admission about it so I wouldn’t know either hahahha and i guess people have realised their interactions have been dead for some time hence assuming that something happened (aka breaking up which again nothing was said so 🤷‍♀️) there has not been any proof of bash being mean to joe so i feel like a lot of it is just projection? Bash was involved in some harry potter project so the fanbase was saying he is transphobic since HP was created by JK Rowling. And there were some comments by himself regarding his character Ben that made people upset, i cannot remember well but it was along the lines of how he’s kinda misunderstood or something and fans feel like he’s not being serious enough regarding how his character actually sexually assaulted someone so yeah

3. I would say they are from what I have seen on social media and their interviews. Joe admitted kit was one of the few who knew about his role in marvel first. I feel like you would not trust somebody with that kind of information hahaahah and they hang out, outside of filming with will and tobie so i would say they are good friends! Ouhhh the recent interviews for the promotion of heartstopper season 3 is so good! My favourite is the GQ best friend interview and the one with Ladbible where they tried food together

4. Hahahahahah fans are very strict about not shipping them so i would not say theres a name for them, fans generally combine their name JoeKit 🤣

[pale-goblin]

A Little Twisted.

Chapter One: The King

Co written w/ @desertdwellerdanny

  It was late, later then Steve wanted to leave work. Working for his father’s business had been the worst mistake of his life. The long hours, business trips, and paperwork killed him. The only thing that added fun to his life was his body count and not in a sex way. Every business trip, he left a crime scene behind; it was an excellent hobby, a fun game. 

As Steve unlocked his car that was parked in the darkness of the street, he heard sounds coming from the alleyway—harsh breaths and muffled screams paired with the tell-tell sounds of struggle. There, barely visible in the alley between two abandoned shops, was a tall man dressed in dark denim and golden strands that fell over his shoulders in beautiful curls. He was pretty, despite, or maybe because of, the deep scowl etched into his features. The closer Steve looked, it seemed there was another person there, pushed up against the man and the dirty brick of the wall.

The curiosity got the better of him, and rather than sidle back into his car to drive 40 minutes to a dull house with boring people and boring television; he found his feet carrying him closer. Steve was friends with the shadows, staying well within them to edge closer to the struggle. It was when he had just made it to the opening of the alley that he heard the all-too-familiar crunch of bone and a strangled scream for help that sounded more gurgle than yell. The man was standing, staring down at the body and the bloodied mess he’d made of the wall and his hands. Shining, wet blood covered the front of him, splatters adorning the smooth skin of his face.

It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous.

Steve watched the rage boiling in the man’s face turn sour, listening to him swear under his breath. His blood-covered hands reaching for his blonde curls to smooth it out of his face. Steve smiled in the alley’s dim light. Seeing the reaction of a man’s first kill was titillating to witness. 

Steve’s first kill was cleaner, more planned, and he was 12. He had many years to fine-tune his skills and make sure he was hidden from people’s noses, Of course, unless he was too excited like now. Steve hadn’t noticed the can at his feet which he kicked into the dead body when he shifted his weight. 

The man got spooked, and in fear of losing this beautiful man, he put his hands up, showing himself.

“Wait, Wait, don’t run.”

The man’s hands were shaking, slight tremors running up and down his spine as he took Steve in. Those sharp, light eyes dragged over his suit-clad figure, and if Steve had been the type of man to blush, his cheeks would be dusted pink with the intense attention the man gave him.

“Who- I didn’t. He was,” his voice cracked, wide, terrified eyes looking down at the bloodied mess the victim’s face was, “What did I do?”

“Looks like you killed him,” Steve said calmly, eyeing the man’s messy job. “Poorly, I might add,” Steve kneeled, being careful not to get blood on himself. “Good spot though, dark alley, broken cameras.” Steve eyed the area, breaking it down for himself to see how easy this would be to cover up.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed, his body screamed defensive, waiting for Steve to shout or call the cops or something. But he didn’t.

“Who are you?” He spat, top lip pulling up into a snarl. He looked like a cornered animal, faced with a variable that had the ability to ruin him. Hell, he’d murdered someone in a blind rage—he’d already been ruined if it wasn’t for Steve, and isn’t that a nice little bit of luck.

Steve smiled when he locked gazes with the fear-filled blue of the man’s eyes. “Seems like I’m your guardian angel.” Steve winked—the excitement building in his chest was impressive; honestly, he was kind of turned on by all of this. “Wait here; I have a kit in my car. I promise I’m here to help you.”

The man stood flabbergasted, the blood coating the front of his shirt and up and down his arms starting to chill with the cold wind. Steve turned and made his way back to his car, nonchalant and even a slight spring in his step, the blond stranger left in the disturbing quiet of the alley. The silence was deafening, and it roared in the man’s ears.

Steve returned moments later, holding a large black case, wearing a rudder-looking apron and gloves. He had a smile on his face that seemed not to fade. "Can I ask you some questions? About this friend of yours, about tonight?" Steve placed the case on the ground, wondering if this was weird for him, this well-dressed stranger who happens to be a psychopathic murderer. "What's your name?”

The man’s mouth dropped open a bit, taking Steve even before giving a small, unbelieving chuckle and mumbling what the fuck under his breath. “You’re a nutcase, aren’t you?” He gave Steve a cautious side-eye before facing him head-on, meeting his gaze, “You can call me Neil. And that,” he said, pointing at the body, “is not my friend. But ask away if you gotta.”

Steve completely ignored Neil's stab at him for being 'crazy' Steve wasn't crazy—far from it.

"Did you have sex with him?" Steve mumbled as he pulled out a plastic sheet from his case and laid it on the ground.

Billy licked his lips nervously, hands tightening into fists at his side. “No! N-no,” he hesitated, stomach rolling uncomfortably at recalling what had made him do… this… in the first place, “He was trying to— he put something in my drink. But it must’ve been weak or some shit because I could still move. Kinda. I came-to here and kinda, just,” his nostrils flared with fury, eyes even beginning to blur with tears just remembering. He didn’t want to remember. “I didn’t give him the chance to.”

Steve snorted at himself as he dragged the body onto the sheet. Not at Neil's misfortune but the fact that he helped throw the defense case out the window if he got caught. "Then good riddance to this ass hole--" Steve went through the victim’s pants, pulling out a wallet but no car keys. Sad, he couldn't make it look like a car crash. "-- Mr. Bates." Steve read the ID in the wallet, pressing his lips together with a chuckle, "not anymore."

“Bates? That’s his name?” Neil gave an unbelieving laugh, giggles pouring out of him, quickly turning into hysterics, “Oh god. I’m sorry, it’s just. Like that one movie? American Psycho? Bates?” He covered his mouth with a trembling hand to quiet the chuckles forcing their way out of him, “Guess it’s not him that’s the killer this time, though.”

Steve loved hearing the laughter pouring out of Neil's mouth. It was sweet and gave Steve goosebumps just listening to it echo off the walls. He kind of forgot to give his name. He was still tied up in the blood and the blue of this man's eyes. "I'm Ste--no- uh Steve" Steve stumbled the words out of his mouth, giving Neil his real name with so much trust. His beautiful face was throwing Steve off his game.

Neil squinted at him, chuckles finally calming down a bit as he watched Steve work. “Steve,” he said slowly as if testing how the name tasted on his tongue. He must’ve approved because he nodded once before leaning back against the wall opposite to where he’d bashed the man’s head in and slid to the ground. He stretched his legs out, his foot just barely touching the body’s foot, and gave a little kick before letting his head thump back against the brick. “Well, what the fuck are we gonna do, Steve.”

        "Well, I'm taking this man home with me" Steve rolled the guy in the plastic sheet just not to make a mess of his car. "Since this was not planned, I will have to figure out how to get rid of the body, but we will clean up the blood and…" Steve's eyes flicked over Neil's body as he sat on the ground, which made Steve let out a disappointed sigh "...and we will get you cleaned up at my house."

“You’re literally helping hide a murder right now,” Neil raised an eyebrow at him, weariness pulling his features down and narrowing his eyes, “Why, pray tell, the fuck should I trust you enough to get into your car?”

Neil was on edge, hackles raised and expecting the worst from Steve. He’d narrowly avoided being attacked already tonight and instead managed to become a murderer in that short amount of time. 

“For one, you don’t have to trust me, and I don’t expect you too” Steve pulled a spray bottle out of the case. “But I’m the only chance you have right now” Steve kind of felt like he was

forcing Neil to come with him, but he wasn’t. If Steve wanted to have his way, Neil would have been knocked out and hogtied in the back of his car. Steve started cleaning the blood off the walls taking his time even though no one probably came down here much unless they were also criminals. 

Neil let his head thump back against the wall again, closing his eyes. His stomach was cramping with anxiety, and he still felt sick from earlier—the panic and disgust of being so vulnerable settled like lead in his chest.

“Maybe,” he peeked one eye open, lazily watching Steve scrub and spray at the chunky red mess on the wall, “Once I know for sure you’re not gonna fuck me over.” Neil still felt the fear clawing its way up from his chest, and yet in that mess of emotions, not one of them was guilt over what he had done. It had felt...right to kill him. Good, even.

Steve enjoyed the clean-up more than the kill itself; it added some kind of normal part to it for him. Steve never felt guilt but knew he wasn’t normal, but he didn’t care if he was. Steve looked back at the guy exhausted against the wall of the alley. “The anxiety will pass,” Steve mumbled, giving him a shy smile. “Then you will taste true freedom.”

Neil snorted, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “You sound like you’ve done this before, pretty boy. Run into a lot of murders, do you?”

Steve laughed. “I don’t run into a lot. It’s not like we have a club or anything,” Steve cleaned up the last bit on the wall before moving to where the body has been sitting. “But, I have done this before, 42 times counting helping you; I’ve even got a fancy killer name now.” 

Neil’s eyebrows shot up, face sobering, “Really now?” He looked nervous. Funny almost, like there’s a difference between killing 42 or 1 with his bare hands. “And what would that be? How so many?”

Steve licked his lips as he looked up at Neil. “They call me the King; I haven’t been caught because I don’t kill in the same city twice in the same year. They only connected the dots a few months ago.”

Neil’s eyes grew big, mouth propping open as he took in the killer who had just started to take over just about every news story as of late. “Holy fuck. Bullshit.” he sat up against the wall, pushing up off of it to stride over to Steve as if getting a better look at the man would help him make the connection to a faceless serial killer. “And you’re helping me? Now?” his face screwed up in confusion, taking yet another step towards Steve, “Why?” he said quietly, peering into his eyes as if trying to find the answers to all the questions clogging his brain there.

Steve shrugged. “My life is boring, and you’re just the excitement I needed today.” Steve stood up and finally finished the rest of the work. He watched Neil check him out, trying to figure out what was not very hard if you knew how to look. “Do I scare you?”

Neil didn’t answer right away, keeping his intense eye contact and considering the question with a low hum. “No. You don’t.” He settled on, stating it firmly and with conviction. Steve was terrifying, but the shine in Neil’s eye confirms that he would rather die than let him know that.

Steve made a face when he looked interested more than he was before in Neil. "Well, come on then" Steve put his stuff away, closing the case up and handing it to Neil with a wink, "unless you want to get caught, that is" Steve smiled faded at the possibility that Neil could just say no and run, but Steve would make sure his actions had consequences.

Fortunately, it seemed Neil had better common sense than that and hesitantly stepped forward to take the case. “You look like you know what you’re doing. I’d rather take your lead than to spend the next 30 years in prison.” Neil replied in perfect deadpan. He wasn’t a fool—he knew what happens to boys like him if he was targeted before being in a building full of men with his being as pretty as he was… well, that’s just asking for trouble, isn’t it?

Steve smiled. "Smart boy." Honestly, Steve would have so much fun with this guy; maybe they would even kill together. Hmm, the idea of that, the excitement of it. 

Steve picked up the body, throwing it over his shoulders like it was nothing to him--it was unfortunate he would have to get rid of his suit because of this. Hunting in clothes you wear is never a good idea with fibers getting everywhere. 

"My car's not far."

Neil slowed, eying how easily Steve had manhandled a grown man’s dead weight. He wasn’t sure if that added to the intimidation or stirred something in him. Neil gave his head a slight shake before gripping the case in his hands tighter and following Steve back out to his car.

It was a fancy thing, sleek black and probably more expensive than Neil had ever owned or even touched.

Steve opened the trunk of the car and placed the body down into it. Honestly, all of this tonight made him yearn for another hunt, but he wasn't going on another trip for a few weeks. 

Steve let out a sigh as he grabbed the case from Neil and put it in with the body, and removed the extra attire he was wearing. 

"Get in the back seat. I already put a sheet down for you" Steve opened the back door like a gentleman. Steve wondered what Neil was feeling, how much excitement was kicking in? Did he feel good? Steve always enjoyed the thrill of it all, but he wanted to know how other people thought.

Neil pulled a face at his commanding tone, but climbed in anyway, face passive save for his ears’ tips that flushed a pretty red. “M, not a damn dog, yknow,” he mumbled out, although he understood the reasoning given the front of his shirt was splattered in blood.

He shuffled in, careful not to touch anything that wasn't the plastic sheet lining the inside of the car. “What’re you going to do with him?” he asked quietly, the meekest Steve’s seen him all night. 

Steve got out into the car’s front seat and fixed his mirror to see Neil in the back seat, getting to see him in a slightly better light before the overhead light in the car went out as he turned the car on. “Well, dump his body somewhere in a few days,” Steve smiled, thinking about how he could take credit for it. “Maybe cut something into his skin, take the top of his skull, and put it on my wall.”

It’s not something that’s been disclosed by the cops yet, at least not officially. Reporters have spread the news like cockroaches in hidden corners, whispering about how the serial killer King takes the crown of the victims’ scalps. It’s terrifying, really. Neil narrows his eyes a smidge.

“Why do you do it?”

Steve had never thought about why he did what he did; he only started doing it three victims into this game of his. Sometimes he does it when the people are still alive, watching the fear dripping from their eyes until the shock sets in. 

“They don’t deserve a crown.”

Neil hummed, “Who deserves a crown, then?”

Steve pulled out of the parking spot, locking eyes with Neil in the mirror. “I do.”

Neil held his gaze—feeling trapped by Steve’s shockingly clear brown eyes, and yet he felt no struggle or want to break out of it.

Neil is prey. Interesting, pretty, entertaining prey.

And Steve was going to eat him alive just to force him to submit to him. To admit how scared he is of The King.

Co written w/ @desertdwellerdanny

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 10: A Favor

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumple deals with the Savior

Read on AO3

He frowns at the parchment in his hands. The twittering bluebird that delivered the message flaps its wings to get away from the window as quickly as it can. The clever animal must sense that the Dark One is in a mood to throw firebolts. 

“How bad is it?” His wife gets up from the dining room table. She stands beside him in a patch of sunlight by the uncurtained window.

He slides his arm around her waist. After a year of marriage the gesture is automatic. Touching her is as natural as breathing. 

“It is all of our nightmares come to life!” He says the words lightly, as though that will diminish the truth of them.

Belle takes the letter and reads it for herself. “Princess Ella is having twins?” She reads further. “And she thinks you’ll want to take both babies? But the deal was only for her first-born. She would know that if she had read the contract before she signed it! ”

Softly, Rumpelstiltskin drifts away from her. He walks a slow circle around the dining room. Though he never thought much about the castle, he has lived there for hundreds of years. Soon he will never see this place again. He married Belle here. It is his home. It is their home. 

“Do you know what really annoys me?” 

Belle looks up from the letter. “What, Rumple?”

“In the message,” he takes the parchment back, “the cinder-girl says that a dwarf heard a second heartbeat in her womb. A dwarf. How would a dwarf know to listen for that kind of thing? Dwarves are hatched, fully-grown, from eggs.” He paces back and forth across the room. “In the entire history of time, fewer than a hundred dwarves have ever come out from their mines to interact with the above-ground. How in any hell would one of them be knowledgeable about the pregnancy of a human woman?” He shakes his head. “It’s sloppy. By acting like I believe such a ruse, I will look an utter fool.”

“Then you shouldn’t go!”

The words come out as a cry, and Belle’s hand covers her mouth. Her eyes are wide. She is shocked that she would allow such a thought to escape her lips. He knows that she would take it back if she could. 

But the words have already been spoken. They hang in the air between husband and wife like a barrier.

He goes to her, without hesitation. He breaks the barrier of her words. He takes her hand away from her mouth, kisses her fingers, then her lips. There is nothing she can do or say to him that she will ever need to take back. He loves her, and her love for him is his only certainty. 

 When they pull apart, Belle’s cheeks are wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She shakes her head and lowers her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin holds her in his arms and lets her cry. 

“It’s all right,” he murmurs. He rocks her gently, swaying from side to side. It’s almost like they’re dancing. The last dance they will ever share in this world. 

He cannot fault her for not wanting to be abandoned. When he is gone, she will be vulnerable, even with all their best precautions in place. There is still a risk, and Belle is right to be mindful of her own safety. He needs to be near her in order for her to be protected.

“I thought I could be brave enough,” she murmurs. “But I can’t.” She puts her hands on his chest and takes a deep breath. “I can’t let them do this to you!”

Stunned, Rumpelstiltskin looks at his wife. Gently, he brings his hands up to her face. There is nothing but honesty in her eyes. He sees her so clearly, his Belle, his beloved. This tiny, fragile, mortal woman is more fearful for his comfort than her own survival.

“Me?” he whispers. “Belle, what about you?”

“They’re going to put you in a cage, Rumple! A cage with no magic! You’ll be powerless! Those people could do anything to you! They could hurt you or--”

“You’re the only person who can hurt me, Belle,” he assures her. “You are the mistress of the dagger. Nothing anyone else does to me matters.”

Her breath shakes. “I just wish--”

“Shh.” He pulls her close, holds her tight. “No wishing. Wishing is how little cinder-Ella got into the position she’s in. Wishing is wanting something without putting in the work to get it, and we know better than that. After all, my love, all magic--”

“Comes at a price,” she finishes it with him. “I know.” 

Her hands go up to his face. She traces his lines and his scales, rubs her palms against his sharp jaw, his cheekbones. He closes his eyes and rests against her touch. Belle runs a finger up the edge of his nose and over his eyebrows. She cups his cheeks in her soft hands. By the end of it, both of them are breathing more easily.

“When will the Savior be born, Rumple? When will the curse be cast?”

“By tradition, the announcements are made in the royal mother’s sixth month of pregnancy. That was just a few days ago. Snow White is about as far along as the ash-girl.”

“So three months,” she says. “For three months, you’ll be in prison and I’ll be pretending.”

“It will keep us safe.” He takes her hands, kisses her ring. “You will be safe from Regina and everyone else will be safe from me. Whoever wants to find me will know exactly where I am. They’ll see me beaten, and will have no reason to fear me.”

“But we won’t see each other for three months.”

He embraces her again, kisses her forehead. “Three months, and twenty-eight years.” 

Belle shudders. “Tell me you don’t have to leave right now.”

He squeezes her, and shakes his head. “Tomorrow night, the letter said. At the stroke of midnight. I think the princess thought that was clever.”

Belle scoffs.

Rumpelstiltskin tilts her chin up so that she’s looking at him. “I am yours forever, sweetheart. But for this plan to work, I must play my part. I must be all the darkness mothers tell tales of to frighten children. I must steal babes and trick maidens and be vanquished by heroes who are oh-so-very-good and clever. I must be every evil thing they think I am. And then, Belle, in order to win--I must lose.”

****

Rumpelstiltskin came out of the darkness to the sound of a frantic banging and a woman’s voice:

“Oh my God! Are you alright?”

Belle. His eyes stung and his head hurt. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say. Sweetheart, don’t worry about me…

But Belle’s voice kept shouting, almost screaming. It came from some distance away, even more than through the fog of his unconsciousness. It was like she was in another room. Once again, they were separated by a locked door.

He was lying on the ground. The floor, inside somewhere. A wooden floor. 

It was dark. When he tried to open his eyes, lights streamed in through the windows. Orange, electric lights. Street lights. Storybrooke.

“The door’s locked, but I’ve got my new key!” Belle’s voice cried. But it wasn’t Belle on the other side of the door to Gold’s shop. “I’m coming in!”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his head for a moment, but then the pain flashed like lightning and he sunk back to the ground.

“Oh, Jesus!” Mrs. Gold opened the door and turned on the lights. He winced at the brightness. Eyes closed, he heard the crunch of broken glass under her gray suede boots. “Oh Jesus Christ, Mr. Gold! What happened? Are you okay?”

She knelt on the floor beside him, touching his face and chest frantically. Like she was trying to assure herself that he was real, that he was breathing. Her touch was warm on his skin. Belle was always so warm... 

“Christ, Mr. Gold, you’re bleeding! Can you talk to me? Please talk to me!”

Obedient to his wife, Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth and made a noise. It was mostly a groan, but it was enough to calm her a little. 

“Can you open your eyes?”

Her concerned face blocked the light, so it was easier to do what she asked. Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin sat up. He pushed himself backward with his good leg, until he was leaning against one of the glass counters. 

“I’m all right,” he whispered.

“Bullshit! You’re bleeding. And you were clearly knocked out! What happened? Who did this to you?”

“I did it to myself,” he breathed. True, his assailant had sprayed his face with some noxious chemical potion. Blinded, he had flailed back into a display. But he hadn’t gotten the cut on his head until he tried to lunge forward and his ankle had given out on him. He had fallen onto the corner of a chess board on the counter.

It could have been worse. The girl could have bashed him in the head with the brick she had used to break the window. His mortal skull could have shattered just like the glass. He could have bled out on the shop floor without ever seeing the curse broken. He could have died without ever seeing Belle again, without ever finding Bae...

“Oh my God.” Tears rolled down Mrs. Gold’s cheeks. Why would she cry for him? Gold had never been anything but awful to her, and Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t been much better. 

“Check the safe,” he said, mostly as a way to get her away from him for a moment. He needed to think.

“Jesus, were you robbed?” Mrs. Gold scrambled to her feet and hurried to the back wall of the shop. Framed paintings crowded every inch of wall space. One picture swung open on a hinge. Behind it, a metal safe door was also open. When she spoke again, her tone was less teary.

“You were robbed by an idiot,” she said. “They left the key in the lock. And they locked the side door on the way out!” Rumpelstiltskin heard the rustling of papers. “They left all the cash too. It looks like the only thing missing is--”

“A contract,” he finished. Where was that cane? A moment’s reprieve had given him time to come up with a plan. But he couldn’t enact it on the floor. “Ashley Boyd’s contract.”

Mrs. Gold scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me? That stupid bitch!” Slamming the safe closed, Mrs. Gold stormed through the curtain into the back room of the pawn shop. 

“What are you doing?” he called weakly. 

“Getting the first aid kit!”

Rumpelstiltskin leaned his head back against the display case. Right. Gold kept a good stock of medical supplies in his house, his car, and the shop. Bandages, burn ointments, medical scissors. Considering what Gold liked to do with his wife, it was best to be prepared for injuries. 

Mrs. Gold reappeared with a white metal box in her hands. Kneeling beside him, she opened it. She put on a pair of rubber gloves before she began to clean the cut on his forehead.

He let her. It was the first time he had allowed Mrs. Gold to touch him. The first time anyone had touched him, since the last time he had seen Belle.

“I can’t believe that sneaky little skank!” Her touch was gentle, but her words were furious. “You’re saving her by taking that baby off her hands! And this is how she repays you? She thinks she can weasel out of a deal with you? Unbelievable!”

Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes again. “The girl said something about changing her life.”

“Ruining her life is more like it!” Mrs. Gold huffed. “Ashley Boyd thinks she can be a mother? She’s too stupid and irresponsible. She’s always wanted some fucking fairy godmother to solve all her problems for her. You just know she got pregnant on purpose.” Mrs. Gold squeezed a paste out of a white tube and spread it over his skin. Careful to brush his hair out of the way first, she adhered a plastic bandage to his scalp. “She wanted Sean to marry her, so she decided to trap him. And when his father found out, he came to you to take care of it. You found some family to adopt the baby and got Ashley to sign the contract. But now she wants out of it? Why? What reason could she possibly have for wanting a fucking baby?”

Snapping the metal lid shut on the box, Mrs. Gold stormed back into the other room to put away the first aid kit.  

“Something must have changed,” Rumpelstiltskin said when she returned. Gingerly, he brought his hand up to the bandage. “I suspect Ashley spoke to someone who convinced her that she was stronger than she thought.” Despite the pain, he found himself grinning. “Someone who made her believe in the possibility of a happy ending.”

Mrs. Gold handed him the cane and helped him stand up. “Who would do that?”

“The same person I’m going to talk to in the morning.”

****

Technically, an unauthorized roommate was a violation of the lease on the studio apartment that Mary Margaret Blanchard rented from Gold. But that didn’t matter to Rumpelstiltskin. It was convenient for him that Emma Swan had taken to living with the woman she didn’t know was her mother. It made her easy to find. 

When Snow White answered the door, the former princess went even paler than normal. She had never seemed afraid of him before, even when he looked his most inhuman. Of course, to the people of Storybrooke, Gold was more of a monster than the Dark One could ever be. 

“Is Emma Swan here?”

Mary Margaret Blanchard looked over to the side of the room before speaking. It looked like she was trying to be discreet about having a guest, while simultaneously advertising the fact for all to see. Well, that was to be expected. Snow White had never been known for her ability to keep a secret. 

Emma came to the door.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Even in this world, she was a princess. A true princess, someone who had battled and politicked and worked her way to whatever power she had. Emma Swan had been born in a castle, but she had spent her first eighteen years of life in a dozen different foster homes. Gold knew that Henry Mills’ birth mother had had him in jail. She had given birth while handcuffed to a hospital bed. Since then, the woman had made a career as a bail bondsperson. Her job was to find people who were running from their fates and force them to do the right thing--by hook or by crook, as the shepherds used to say when herding sheep back into the fold. 

There was a fire in her green eyes, a vibrant spirit that no one else in this town had. Even if Rumpelstiltskin didn’t know she was the savior, it was obvious there was something special about this woman. From the moment she was born, she’d had to fight. 

And there was nothing a fighter needed more than an opponent. 

“Hi,” Rumpelstiltskin extended his hand out for her to shake. “I’m Mr. Gold, we met briefly when you first came into town.”  

“I remember.”

She wasn’t, exactly, unfriendly. But she spoke with a businesslike brusqueness, a tone that said get to the point more than any actual words. She certainly was her father’s daughter.

“May I speak to you about something? Privately?” He gave a meaningful look to Mary Margaret, who bolted like a rabbit away from her own door. 

“Sure,” Emma said begrudgingly. 

Without asking, Rumpelstiltskin walked in to the apartment. The central room was as neat as a pin, except for a dozen packing boxes in one corner. All of them were opened, half the contents of each box scattered and piled around that section of the room. A knitted blanket was draped over a chair. It was a small blanket, the kind in which a loving mother would wrap a newborn before sending her on a perilous journey. The name Emma was stitched out in royal purple. 

“Moving in?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said, neither denying the obvious nor giving any extra details. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Gold?”

Emma Swan’s natural posture was to keep her back to the wall, her feet apart, and her hands on her hips. Not aggressive, but not one to be pushed over either. She was a rock, as so many heroes were. No force could move her unless she thought it was her idea to move.

“I don’t want to go to the police about this,” he began. “But something has been stolen from me, and I understand you’re good at finding people.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Where’d you hear that?” 

“There was a write-up about you in the paper,” he answered. “If you were hoping to avoid attention, breaking the ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign on your first night in town wasn’t the best move.”

With a rueful expression, Emma wiped her hands on her trousers. “So what was taken?”

“All due respect, Miss Swan, one of the advantages of you not being the police is a certain level of discretion. Let’s just say it was a precious object and leave it at that. I’m more concerned about who did the taking. Last night, a young girl named Ashley Boyd broke into my shop and opened my safe. She’s also responsible for this.”

 Brushing his hair back, Rumpelstiltskin revealed the cut on his forehead. It had scabbed over, but the wound was still a vivid red. 

Emma frowned. “So that’s breaking and entering, petty burglary, and assault. You’re sure you don’t want to call the cops?”

He looked at the ground, made a show of playing with his cane. He had to make sure Emma underestimated him. “Ashley’s a nice girl. She’s never been in trouble like this before. She’s young, she’s pregnant. She’s just a confused young woman at a bad place in her life. I’m more than willing to forgive and forget, as long as my property is returned.” Rumpelstiltskin looked up at Emma, and mentioned something that hadn’t been published in the paper. “Can you imagine one bad decision leading to a baby being born in jail?”

It was gone in a flash, that flicker of emotion in Emma’s eyes. He would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it. Emma’s masks were better than Regina’s, but he had been manipulating people for centuries. He knew how to recognize that moment of decision--often long before the other party knew it. That moment when he knew that they were his.

“Yeah, that’d be terrible,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rumpelstiltskin pressed in. The deal would be finalized before she even knew she was seriously considering it.

“So you’ll help me?”

“I will help her,” Emma said. She was stone again. The Savior had wavered for just a moment, but that moment was all he needed. 

“Grand.” He gave her a smile. Nothing nicer than making people feel good about doing exactly what you wanted them to. 

Before they could say anything more, the apartment door opened.

“Hey, Emma, I think we need to--” Henry Mills stopped talking as soon as he saw that his birth mother wasn’t alone. 

“Hey, Henry.” Rumpelstiltskin’s cheer became more genuine. There was something about Henry Mills that he liked. The boy had an insight and a determination that were rare gifts in a cursed town. Something about him reminded Rumpelstiltskin of Baelfire when he was that age. “How are you?”

“O...kay.” The boy took a step back. His excited features slowly schooled themselves into a cautious non-expression. 

To Rumpelstiltskin’s sorrow, the sudden transformation from excitement to sobriety was also something he had seen in Baelfire. Shrewd children could always identify monsters, no matter how friendly they tried to act.

“Well then.” He made his way to the door, passing by Henry in the process. The boy swiveled so he never had his back turned to the fearsome Mr. Gold. “Give my regards to your mother. And Miss Swan?” He nodded to the Savior before he let her go fulfill her destiny. “Good luck.”

****

    When he got back to the shop, Mrs. Gold was behind the counter, ringing out a customer. 

“Your sister is going to love this! A cute little pin is a great fashion statement. And where else could you find jewelry that looks like a brick wall? It’s so different!” 

She handed a gift bag to the middle-aged woman, who took it with a dubious expression. 

When Mrs. Gold saw that he had walked in the side door, she quickly added. “Of course, it all depends on how you like getting pinned!”

The other woman went pink and barreled out of the shop, her stick-brown hair streaming behind her.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t talk to Mrs. Gold about how she intimidated people with her innuendo. What else could he expect from her? She did and said what she thought her husband wanted.

“Was everything alright while I was out?”

Mrs. Gold nodded. “No break-ins today, though I did keep a weapon handy.” From the far side of the cash register, she pulled out a flat, heavy wooden paddle. Gold identified it as a cricket bat. Mrs. Gold twirled the handle with practiced deftness. “But now that you’re here, maybe we can put this to better use?” 

He didn’t give her an answer. He didn’t need to. After just a moment of glittering hope, Mrs. Gold lowered her gaze and set the cricket bat aside. 

“Sorry for asking, Mr. Gold. I know that’s not my place.” Still looking down, she knocked her knuckles against the countertop. “I, uh, I just wanted to show you that I’m willing, always. For anything.”

Rumpelstiltskin licked his lips and resisted the urge to reach out to her. He didn’t desire Mrs. Gold, and he wasn’t going to treat her the way she wanted him to. But she looked so helpless now--so small and confused, seeking affection from the only person she had, in the only way she could think of. He wanted to help her, he wanted to comfort her. 

He wanted to hold his wife in his arms and let them comfort each other.

But he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he took the cricket bat from the counter and put it back in its proper place among the store’s merchandise. Out the front windows, he saw a bright red vintage sports car make its way up Main Street.

“That’s Ruby Lucas’ car,” he said mildly. “But that isn’t Ruby driving.”

Mrs. Gold rushed to the window. “Who is it?” She craned her neck to see, then grinned as she recognized the driver. “A dumb blonde in a ratty sweater, that’s Ashley Boyd alright.” She looked to her husband. “Now that we know where she is, are you going to call Sheriff Graham?”

 Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “I have every confidence Miss Swan will work things out.”

“She’d better work fast.” Mrs. Gold squinted out the window. “It looks like Miss Too-Good-For-Birth-Control is trying to get out of town.”

“You sound pleased to know that.”

“Idiot’s taking the Widowmaker Highway.” There was a grimness seeping through Mrs. Gold’s vindictive pleasure. “Even in broad daylight, that road is a death trap.” She shook her head, moved away from the window. “If Ashley doesn’t know enough to stay in Storybrooke, she deserves whatever happens to her.”

Despite his better instincts, Rumpelstiltskin decided to keep talking to Mrs. Gold. “Why do you hate her?”

“Huh?” She blinked. 

“Ashley,” he said. “You seem… uniquely unsympathetic to her plight.”

Mrs. Gold pursed her lips in thought. “I mean, she broke in here and knocked you out. I’m not nuts for taking that personally, am I?”

“I suppose not,” he assured her. “But your enmity clearly runs deeper than that.”

Shrugging, she began to wander back to the cash register. “She’s stupid, that’s the main thing. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, so she’s bad at it. That offends me on a professional level.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows. He stayed where he was near the door. “Professional?”

“Well, yeah, it’s…” Mrs. Gold began to search around the counter, less like she had something to do and more like she was finding an excuse to fidget. “I mean, it’s not a secret that  I know a thing or two about a trashy Old Town slut trying to get a better life by marrying someone rich enough to make her problems go away.” Now she looked at him, her face determinedly impassive as she said what she thought was the truth about her own life. “I don’t blame Ashley for wanting Sean to marry her. He’s an idiot too, so they’ll get along well, and his parents will always bail him out if things get too tight. But she didn’t get the job done. He split and she’s trying to avoid the consequences of her failure.”

“She wants to keep the baby,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “That doesn’t sound like avoiding consequences.”

Mrs. Gold shook her head. “Even if she hadn’t made a deal with you, things were never going to work out for that girl. Not so long as she went around thinking that she didn’t have to work for what she wanted to get out of life.”

 She slid her forearms over the glass as she leaned against the counter. The posture displayed her cleavage, but it didn’t seem to be an invitation. Not a pose, just a slump. 

“It was the first lesson you ever taught me, Mr. Gold.” She gave a smile, wistful, nostalgic. “Everything comes at a price.” 

****

Shortly after Ruby’s car had left town, Emma Swan’s yellow Volkswagen rumbled down the road in the opposite direction.

Half an hour later, the Beetle drove past the shop again. Faster than before, it was now heading the same direction as the runaway Ashley. 

Later still, the car raced up the street at a frightening speed. This time, Emma and her passengers made a turn at the hospital.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled and checked his pocket watch. It was almost four in the evening. Gold didn’t normally close the shop so early on Saturdays, but this was a special occasion. 

“I’m going to drop you off at home,” he said to Mrs. Gold. “I’ll be back in time to make supper.”

Mrs. Gold looked up from the small case of rings she had been arranging according to size. “Am I allowed to know where you’re going?”

“The hospital,” he answered with no small amount of pleasure. “I’m going to see if Miss Swan will let me steal Ashley’s baby.”

 ****

Gold was familiar with Storybrooke General Hospital. His physician, Dr. Whale, did his private practice on the third floor of this building. Today, Rumpelstiltskin was heading for the maternity ward. 

When he rounded the corner around the reception desk to the waiting room, he saw Emma talking to a nurse. Henry was there too, patiently sitting in one of the stuffed vinyl chairs. The boy’s feet swung back and forth and didn’t touch the ground.

 “It’s a healthy six pound girl,” the nurse told Emma. “And the mother is doing fine.”

“What lovely news.” He announced his presence. “Excellent work, Miss Swan. Thank you, for bringing me my merchandise.”

Before Emma could react, before she could vent out any of her undoubtedly righteous fury, Rumpelstiltskin slid past her to get to the vending machines, cool as a mountain stream. He took some coins out of his trouser pocket and deposited them into the coffee machine. He had no intention of drinking any coffee, but it would serve a purpose. When Emma saw that he had a styrofoam cup in one hand and the cane in the other, she would see that he was powerless. Just a harmless old cripple. Not a threat at all. 

“You could have mentioned that the precious object Ashley ‘stole’ was her own child.”

Interesting that Emma’s wrath was not the fiery passion of her parents. Prince Charming would have drawn his sword as soon as the Dark One had made his presence known. But  aggression had never done the prince any favors, and maybe Emma knew that posturing would only waste time. Get to the point, was the Savior’s way of doing things. Whatever needs to be done, just do it. 

How delightfully refreshing. 

“You didn’t need to know,” he answered calmly. “All you needed to do was keep Miss Boyd from leaving Storybrooke.”

“She isn’t going to run,” Emma said. “I talked with her today. She wants to stay. She wants to raise her kid.”

“Now, that’s a very heartwarming sentiment.” Rumpelstiltskin brought the cup to his lips to look like he was drinking. “But I have a contract that says that baby is going home with me. I even have a car seat for the wee thing.”

“That’s a lie,” Emma said, correctly. “Consent to adoption papers can’t be signed sooner than seventy-two hours after the birth.”

That was a good strike, but he didn’t let it land. “I also have an envelope filled with more cash than Miss Boyd has ever seen in her life. I find that sort of thing tends to smooth over certain technicalities.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you even want with a newborn? Why are you adopting?”

His instinct was to let out an impish giggle from the old world. But he restrained himself just in time. “I’m not,” he said simply. “I’m merely the go-between. I arranged things with a very nice couple. They’ve already adopted one daughter, and were willing to take on a second.”    

“‘Willing?’” Emma repeated the word with exaggerated brightness. “Well, Ashley is more than ‘willing.’ She is eager. She is desperate to keep this baby. And I’m not going to let you stop her from being a mother.”

Rumpelstiltskin grinned. Here it was at last, the declaration of intent. In her own way, Emma Swan had just drawn her sword. Now he could draw his.

“A mother who committed--what did you say earlier? Breaking and entering, petty burglary and assault?”

She clenched her jaw and he went on.

“All I have to do is press charges against the mother, and that baby is going into the foster care system. And that would be a real shame. Did you enjoy your time in the foster system, Emma?“

At that barb, she fought back. “No jury in the world is going to convict a woman who only committed crimes so she could keep her kid.”

He shrugged, dodged the attack. “Maybe.”

Emma pressed in. “And maybe a court of law will think there’s something kind of fishy about a pawnbroker pressuring a teenage girl into placing her baby for adoption for financial compensation. ‘More cash than she’d ever seen in her life,’ isn’t that what you said? Why do you have that much cash, Gold? Do you want a court looking into your business dealings? Or into any other contracts you might have?”

Rumpelstiltskin smiled. Oh, the Savior was magnificent--like a force of nature or a perfectly executed spell. If she was ever actually a threat to him, he might well have something to worry about. 

“I like you, Miss Swan,” he said. “You’re not afraid of me. That’s either cocky or presumptuous, but I find it charming. And I’d like to have you on my side.”

She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t loosen her stance. “So you’ll rip up Ashley’s contract?”

He raised his cup of coffee in a gesture of helplessness. “That’s not what I do. After all, a contract, an agreement between two parties where both of them benefit--that’s the very foundation of a civilized society.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, what happened today has all been very civilized.”

“And there’s the adoptive family to consider. I’ll have to make things right with them and that won’t be easy. It’s not something I’ll do for nothing.”

Arms still crossed over her chest, Emma stepped closer to him. “Alright, Gold. What will you do it for? What’s your price?”

Rumpelstiltskin gave her a long, slow look. “I don’t know just yet,” he said. “But seeing the lengths you went to for Ashley’s sake is rather inspiring, Miss Swan. You said you were going to help her, and you did. I may be wrong, but I think you have the resources necessary to  help a lot of people.”

“So what’s your point?”

“Help me,” he said with all the sincerity he could while still acting like Gold. “When there comes a time, when I--or one of mine--needs the assistance of Emma Swan, fight for me. The way you did for Ashley. Call it a favor.” 

“A favor, huh?” Emma offered her hand. “Deal.”

He tossed the coffee in the trash to take her hand and shake it. Now he knew how the Savior worked. He knew what she was capable of, and now she owed him a favor. He had won so much--and all he’d had to do was lose. 

“Deal.” 

[chikoriita]

Secret Agent Elf

Here is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @xiueryn! I really hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

"Let me understand what you're saying." Alya stirred her hot chocolate languidly. She furtively looked over Marinette's shoulder to find the boy in question. He seemed innocent enough as he bagged his customer's purchases. "You believe that Adrien is an elf? Not even a Lord of the Rings elf, but one of Santa's helpers!" She could barely keep her laughter contained.

Marinette shushed her. "Not so loud!" She took her own look to make sure no one, especially not Adrien, heard her. If she lingered a little longer than necessary, Alya thankfully did not comment.

"Marinette, you've had a few too many late nights. Adrien is not magical to anyone except you." Alya raised a knowing brow. "Is this an excuse to avoid talking to him?"

"No! I talk to him all the time." Marinette maintained eye contact with her best friend. Her tiny crush on Adrien had nothing to do with her suspicions. If anything, the only thing holding her back was her certainty of his elfin origins.

She made the connection three weeks prior, at the start of the Christmas season for Agreste Fine Goods. One of the largest department stores in the city, Agreste Fine Goods catered to every need of the Parisian family. From couture to off the rack, from interior design to furniture kits, the store had it all.

"It all" included the opportunity to intern directly under Gabriel Agreste. Out of the entire city, Marinette was chosen to be the fall intern. Unlike past interns, Gabriel chose her himself. As part of her course, he guided her through everything from designing to marketing to in-store operations. Personally.

She did not mind the extra scrutiny. Gabriel built the business from a tailor's shop to its current state. Any knowledge she could glean from him was worth it. Even if her internship coincided with the dreaded retail season of Christmas.

Gabriel, the Mentor, was tough, but when it came to Gabriel, the store owner, and the Christmas season, he took no chances for disaster. It was the most profitable time of year. Thus he took on dozens of new employees in preparation. Adrien was one of the seasonal hires. He arrived at the store with a cheerful attitude on November 1st.

(Marinette should have started suspecting then; what retail worker was cheerful during the Christmas season?)

"Magical things happen when he's around!"

Alya snorted. "Fine. If you can bring proof that he's a "Christmas elf", then I will believe you. But!" She held up a finger. "If you can't, because he's a human being, you have to ask him to our New Year's Eve party! Either way, I win."

--

Observation Report 1

Date: December 20

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Santa's Workshop

21:00 - Subject observed tinkering with the decorations in Santa's Workshop. I put up those decorations. What did he feel like needed to be fixed? Could those sparks be coming from his fingers?

Note – Upon his exit from the workshop, collided with the subject. The subject smelled of peppermint and marshmallows.

Observation Report 2

Date: December 22

Subject: Adrien and Staff

Setting: Break Area

12:00 - Subject brought copious amounts of hot chocolate to the common area for staff only. Two hours later, the normally hectic, frantic, and grumpy restockers wore grins of joy. The cashiers did not shed one tear that morning. A peek into the customer service room indicated that there was some magic afoot. Upon entering, they wished Gabriel and me a "Merry Christmas". (The last time we ventured to Customer Service, even Gabriel hesitated to cross the threshold into their lair)

Note – he brought me a personalized mug of the chocolate, and there was no aftertaste of any added ingredients. Thus, it must have been magical to calm the staff in their mania.

Observation Report 3

Date: December 23

Subject: Adrien

Setting: Loading Dock

22:00 – Subject found with a large sack of packages in the trunk of his car (a rental). The packages did not have the AFG logo on the wrapping, and thus not packages from the store. When Subject was approached, he had a bashful grin. The packages were going to a local homeless shelter.

Quote: "A benefactor asked me to drop these off to make sure the children have presents to wake up to on Christmas morning. Every kid deserves to have a present to unwrap. Please don't tell anyone you saw me with these gifts." Sidenote: The look in his eyes was heart-melting; how could I not listen to him? Second Sidenote: His ears were looking pointier than normal. Could it be a side effect of Christmastime?

22:45 – After helping Subject stuff the gifts in the car, I returned home to find a similarly packed gift in my purse. Upon inspection, it was far more delicate than the other gifts in his car and had a note attached to it.

[Attached Note Contents]

Marinette,

For all of the cherished memories you’ve helped make since we met. You were the best part of my Christmas, by far.

Love, Adrien

--

She reached the logical conclusion the next night in her makeshift office.

Adrien was definitely an Elf.

Marinette wanted more than anything to inform Alya of her observations. After all, she was right, was she not? Telling Alya was the whole point of the investigation. Still, there was something that held her back.

After all, if Adrien was an elf, then it followed that Santa was also real. Santa Claus, the same jolly fellow that sorted the people of the world into two distinct lists. And if she outed one of Santa's actual elves, then there was no doubt which Marinette would be on for the rest of her life.

Her eye caught the package he had given her the night before. Inside had been a lovely pair of jet earrings. More importantly, she thought as she ran her hand over the note, what would he think of her?

Well, that only left one option didn't it?

--

To tell the truth, he hadn't expected anyone to follow him out of the store on Christmas Eve. At this point in life, Adrien knew better than to lose track of his surroundings. Even in the safety of such a nice neighborhood, anything could happen. Though he could admit, if he had to choose someone to accost him in the street, it would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

A surprisingly strong arm looped through his elbow and pulled him close. "I've been waiting for you!" Marinette gasped.

He looked down into her wide eyes. "Why?”

She furtively glanced around. The back alley of Agreste Fine Goods was not the best place for a conversation. "We need to talk. We can go to my parent's bakery." She tugged him toward Rue Gotlib. "They're closed for Christmas Eve, and we'll have privacy there."

Adrien would have lingered longer on the privacy if the thought of delicious pastries had not intruded. In any case, his feet were following her lead.

Before he realized what was going on, she had him settled in the bakery with two steaming mugs of coffee and the end of day croissants.

“Sorry, it’s not much.” She grinned and took a sip.

On a cold and snowy night like this, he was in a cozy bakery with the cutest girl from work. He thought it was perfect.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Adrien." Marinette placed her mug firmly on the countertop and sighed. "I need to confess."

He met her gaze. She seemed burdened by something. What on Earth could she need to confess? On Christmas Eve no less?

"I know your secret."

In hindsight, maybe drinking something hot was not the best choice when having such a conversation. "My what?" He choked. How could she have found out? He thought he had been so careful.

To be fair, he wasn't surprised Marinette found out. Over the last few weeks, she paid closer attention to him than any of the other seasonal workers at the store. Only… Only he hoped it was for a more affectionate reason.

"I figured out your identity. I didn't mean to, but it was so obvious. After all, when you're around everything seems more magical," she blurted out.

Magical? "I'm not sure I follow," He said slowly.

Marinette began to pace back and forth. "Alya said I was being silly, but now I know I'm not. You're so beyond my reach, especially with my internship ending and you leaving. I don't want things to change between us."

He felt his stomach hollow. "Does the truth really have to change how you treat me?"

"I don't want it to change," she repeated softly. "You're wonderful."

He grabbed her hands and stopped her pacing. Pulling her close, he gently said, "Marinette, look at me. Does knowing the truth make a difference of how you feel?" Adrien hoped more than anything that she would deny it.

"Feel?" Her breath smelled of mint chocolate.

"Knowing the truth shouldn't change how we feel about each other." He leaned closer and placed his lips on her cheek. "My feelings certainly won't change."

"This probably won't work. The geographical distance is too large." Marinette sighed.

"I won't be that far away."

She giggled. "The North Pole is pretty far Adrien."

"That is true- Wait what?!" He wrenched back.

"The North Pole. Where you live? Isn't that what we've been talking about?" She sat down on a barstool.

This girl had a way of knocking his world off-axis in more ways than one. "Not to my knowledge." His voice came out higher than he expected. "What exactly did you find out?"

To her credit, she turned redder than a tomato. She mumbled her next words, but he could swear he heard "elf" somewhere. Were his ears deceiving him?

A small spark of mischief entered his voice. "Come again?" He teased. He had a feeling they would enjoy this in future Christmases.

"That you're a Christmas elf on assignment from Santa Claus. Now I realize that might sound far fetched, but I had my reasons!" Marinette quickly said. She narrowed her eyes and held up a finger before he could speak. "And before you say a word, Mister-" The fire from her voice died down. "What is your last name anyway?"

Oh this was going to be great. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and leaned down to her ear. "I realize that I never properly introduced myself. My name is Adrien Agreste."

Her body stiffened in his embrace. He slowly turned her around to see the dumbfounded look on her face. Adrien took the few moments of silence to study the enigma of Marinette. He saw the gears working behind those expressive eyes of hers. She blinked once, then twice. He braced for anger and possibly humiliation.

But Marinette never reacted how one would expect. Her mouth widened into a grin. "It's slightly disappointing, to tell you the truth." She batted her eyes at him.

He scrunched his mouth in confusion. "Disappointing?"

Marinette grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer. "Don't you think flirting with a Christmas elf would be rather exciting?" She heaved a sigh. "I guess I will have to settle for the boss's son. Although, I did hear a rumor that he was some kind of model."

If he hadn't seen the wink, he might have taken a bit of offense. Instead, he played along. "Take me out of my misery, Miss Dupain-Cheng! I adore you."

"I might adore you as well. But please explain a few things to me before we continue with all our adoration." She released him, and patted the seat next to her.

“Ask away, milady.”

She pulled out a small notebook from her bag. Flipping to the back, she began, “What were you doing in Santa’s Workshop four days ago?”

He was impressed. She had notes. Real notes. Only Marinette, he thought with a smile. “I was fixing the lights on the chair. The photographer was complaining that the bulbs were interfering with his “art.” It made more sense to rewire the lights to not twinkle.”

“That explains the sparks…” Marinette murmured.

“What else do you have for me, Secret Agent Elf?”

“What about the hot chocolate?” She smirked.

Adrien felt his ears burn. He had heard enough about that from his father that day. “I… Um…”

“Yes?”

“I brought spiked hot cocoa to the break area. My roommate wanted to play a prank on my dad, and there was some collateral damage.” The Customer Care department in particular was hit hard. Their antics tipped Gabriel off to what happened.

“I drank the same cocoa, and nothing happened to me!”

Marinette stared him down with her big blue eyes, and he couldn’t help but tell the truth. “I made yours by hand,” he mumbled and dropped his face in his hands.

“That is so sweet.” She rubbed his shoulder. “One more thing, and then we’re done. Where did all the gifts come from?”

He groaned once more. “You really can’t tell anyone about this. Father and I use the “wages” that I earn to send those gifts to the shelter. My mother, she used to volunteer there. He does not want anyone to know we are the donors.”

“Why not?”

Adrien lifted his head and shot her a cheeky grin. “To be fair, in any other conversation, the explanation wouldn’t be nearly as funny. He made a deal with the director at the shelter. They would keep his name private, and instead, I would deliver the gifts dressed as an elf in lieu of Santa Claus.”

She snorted, which led to her bursting into laughter. Even her laugh was enchanting. Before long, he joined in, thinking of the silliness of it all.

When they had a chance to relieve all their tension, Adrien wore his jacket and scarf once more. “I should probably head out. Your parents probably want to see you at some point this evening.”

“If you must,” she wistfully said, walking him to the door.

“Hey.” He lifted her chin and leaned close. “Since I will be closer than the North Pole, would you like to go on a date? A real one? A date nowhere near Agreste Fine Goods?”

“Of course I would. I still need to ask you to Alya’s New Year’s Eve party.” She tilted her head higher.

“Two dates!” Adrien laughed. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, I would be delighted.” With those words, he lowered his lips and spun her around.

[writersrealmbts]

Joining His Pack: Bonding (Final)

Description: Sanctuary Series: Life goes on for you and Namjoon, no matter the circumstances.

Posted: 05/22/2020

Tags:  Hybrid Namjoon, Wolf Hybrid Namjoon, Wolf Hybrid Reader

Angst/Fluff: 3,656 words

A/N: First day of Fic Dump! Anybody surviving the music video? Because I’m hanging in there but I have about a thousand ideas for Yoongi stories now. Haven’t listened to the full thing yet, but I will after I post this. 

Darkness and the damp smell of rain is what woke you up.

You groaned and rolled onto your feet, shivering at the cold of the floor and shuffling toward where the damp smell was coming from while still trying to open your eyes and getting your wobbly legs to comply.

You grumbled when a cool breeze met your skin, making you shiver again as chills went up your spine.

Then a blanket was draped around your shoulders. “The door broke,” Namjoon whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

You sighed and leaned back onto him. “Guess that moved up on our list of things to fix and replace.”

He nodded. “Just a little. Sort of a pretty morning, though.”

You finally managed to peel your eyes open, looking out over the back yard as the rain poured down across your yard—the flowers from your garden bending but staying upright. Predawn light giving the world a hazy look that was actually quite soothing.

“Our gardens will be happy, we were supposed to water them yesterday,” He commented further, head resting on yours.

You yawned, turning and hugging onto him instead. “Why’s it so cold?”

“Because you’re naked, babe,” He chuckled.

You huffed indignantly. “And why am I naked?”

“Because we mated,” He whispered in your ear, fingers grazing over the ultra-sensitive spot where he had marked you.

You shuddered, keening at his touch and pressing closer.

He chucked again. “Come on, back to bed with you. I’ll be there as soon as I prop the door back in the frame. I’m surprised you can walk.”

“Barely, my legs are still wobbly. What happened to the nest?”

“I cannibalized it to make sure you stayed warm.” He guided you back to bed, holding you upright until you could collapse onto it, then covering you up carefully to make sure you wouldn’t get cold.

“Where are you going?” You asked indignantly.

He smiled. “Door? Me, propping it in the frame to keep the house warmer?”

“Oh,” You mumbled, grabbing and pulling the blankets. “Hurry.”

He laughed softly, his “you’re too adorable and I’m dying” laugh which you loved so immensely. He was too adorable for words. He could be all suave and cool but all you had to do was flirt a little and suddenly he turned into your tall, clumsy, adorkable sweetheart who was so cutely shy that sometimes you felt the need to just shower him in affection until he was all dimples and laughter.

Maybe you should have put the door back in place.

You pushed yourself up. “Namjoon, be careful!”

Your warning came a little late, a crashing noise sounding through the house as the words “be careful” left your mouth.

You winced. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just dropped the door. I’ll be there in a second,” He answered, only a slight edge of panic in his tone.

You leaned out of the bed and pulled the basket of extra blankets closer to you. “Is the door okay?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Sort of?”

You slipped out of bed again, stumbling out to look. “Oh my.”

He cringed. “What should I do?”

You examined the situation. “Call Jin or Micheal.”

He nodded, following you back into the bedroom and ushering you into bed, making sure you were tucked in while he went to call one of the men for help with the situation.

You were in a sort of doze when he crawled into bed again, arms wrapping around you and hands chilled.

“You asleep?” He asked in a whisper.

“Mmm, not quite.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“We’re going to last the ages, aren’t we?”

“We are,” You replied happily, wiggling closer. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“Still need to work on the house,” He said softly.

“True, but as long as we’re both in one piece everything else is just details,” You told him, shrugging slightly and tilting your head so he could rub his nose along your neck.

“Might have bitten too hard, babe,” He whispered, sounding concerned as he nudged your mark, causing you to hiss slightly.

You hummed, the hum turning to a moan as he flicked his tongue over the mark. “The door?”

“Yoongi is coming over, he picked up Micheal’s phone. Apparently Timothy was running a really high fever again.”

“Poor pup,” You whispered. “Human hospitals suck. They should go to the Sanctuary.”

“I think they are.”

“Wait, does that mean we should be getting dressed?”

“We’ve still got time. He was feeding Eunyeong breakfast and he said he needed to get her dressed after that. So, at least half an hour.”

You nodded. “Tae coming too?”

“If he’s already awake, probably. If not, then no.”

You sighed. “Better let me up, honey.”

He grumbled slightly, but placed another kiss on your shoulder before letting you go. “You start your new job next week, right?”

“Yes,” You answered, letting the blankets slip from your body and walking to the closet to pick your outfit. You didn’t have to go anywhere (you weren’t allowed to go anywhere) but you didn’t want to look like a bum when other members of the pack arrived. Not to mention it was great to tease Namjoon in the mornings.

“You’re still wobbling,” Namjoon said after a moment.

“You’re still staring,” You retorted playfully, tail swishing in happiness as you pulled out your desired clothes. You really did need to get dressed, you were starting to get goosebumps.

“You want your black bra?”

“Please.”

“Preference on—”

“Whichever you grab first,” You answered, catching the bra he tossed you. “Can you go get the muffin mixes from the top cabinet?

“Yeah, when did you want to reorganize the kitchen?”

“Possibly today.” You threw the sweater on and then sat down to put on socks. “Depends on what happens after your brothers get here.”

“Well, Tae usually enjoys spending time here, and we haven’t seen them much since they came down, so Yoongi will probably end up asleep on our couch and you’ll get to cuddle the kitten.”

You grinned, following into the kitchen and pulling out the mixing bowl to make the muffins. “Sounds like a perfect lazy day.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then hopped onto an empty counter while you mixed the muffin mix and poured it into the muffin tin liners. “Yeah, that mark looks pretty bad. Sorry, baby.”

You shrugged. “Only hurts when you press on it, and even then it’s one of those pains that feels somewhat pleasurable.”

“Weird omega,” He whispered teasingly.

“Bashful alpha,” You retorted, closing the oven door and going over to him, leaning against his legs.

He leaned down and kissed you, slowly, a little lethargic.

Both of you jumped as the make-shift blockade for the doorway fell in.

You sighed. “Wouldn’t be so bad if the wind wasn’t coming from that direction, and if it didn’t have rain with it.”

He nodded. “They should be here soon and—”

The doorbell rang before he could finish.

You moved so he could go answer the door, not trusting your legs to get you that far and instead taking his spot on the counter.

Taehyung came in, obviously following his nose, the toddling following while holding onto his tail and looking fairly grumpy herself.

You grinned. “Morning!”

Taehyung grunted, and leaned against the counter next to you.

The kitten grabbed onto your feet.

You reached down and picked her up, setting her on your lap to cuddle her. “That’s quite the grumpy face, little one.”

“She didn’t get back to sleep after Micheal and Becca took Timothy to the doctors, and we gave her some medicine to help boost her immune system in case its contagious,” Yoongi explained, looking his usual level of tired, but staring at the door. “Namjoon…how?”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Um…I”m not sure?”

You smiled as they went to inspect, resting your hand on Tae’s head. “I’ve got some banana nut muffins in the oven.”

“I love you. Namjoon, I love her!”

“She’s mine, Tae, you can only love her platonically.”

“Then I love her platonically.”

You giggled at the exchange. “They’ll be ready in a couple minutes.”

He finally moved, sitting on the counter across from you, then his eyes widened. “What did Joonie-hyung do to your neck?”

You shrugged a little. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a third head.

You blinked. “It’s a mating mark, Taehyung.”

He turned bright red and looked away. “I forgot canines did that.”

“Yup.” You stroked the soft kitten ears. “Eunyeong’s fur is still baby-soft. I’m so jealous.”

“Right?!” He perked up again. “Yoongi-hyung got her some special fur shampoo that’s amazing! Costs way too much for me, but you know how he is with her.”

“He spoils in her ways that won’t spoil her personality, it is beyond adorable.” You pressed a cute kiss to her forehead.

Euny blinked up at you sleepily, huffing grumpily.

The timer went off and Taehyung pulled the muffins out for you, taking one and starting to dig into it.

Euny made a sound and opened her mouth like a little chick.

Taehyung shook his head. “Words, honey.”

“Pleeeeease?” She said, sweetly.

He grinned and got a bowl and put a muffin in it. “Little bites, baby.”

“Okay,” She said, still grumpy but holding the bowl and picking off bites from the muffin. She curled against you as she ate, tail flicking.

“So, you guys going to have kids?”

“Eventually, but I think we want to get a bit more done on this place, and spend a little bit of quiet time together before then. I mean, things are just settling down from the trials, and I’m off house-arrest at the end of the week, and I start my new job after that.” You shrugged. “We both agreed that we wanted to wait a while before having pups. Besides, shouldn’t you be pestering Jimin about kits?”

“Eh, he’s been so stressed between last years incident and moving and the wedding that I figure it’s a miracle he’s in one piece. Maybe next year.”

“You going to join Hoseok in the master-nanny business?”

“I wish. First we’d have to move back home. Besides, Hoseokie-hyung is probably going to be a teacher at the Sanctuary school at some point.” Taehyung’s tail playfully flicked open cabinets to inspect.

“Yoongi set a time frame for your visit?”

He shook his head.

“Want to help me reorganize the kitchen?”

He grinned and nodded.

Namjoon eventually got shooed away from helping when Yoongi almost had a replacement door dropped on his head, and he helped you and Tae—meaning the boys did the work while you supervised and held Euny who was giggling a little when her Uncles made faces at you, and subsequently at her.

When Yoongi was done, he joined you sitting on the counter and eating a muffin and watching the boys do your work for you.

But all of you got quiet when Yoongi got a call from Micheal.

Yoongi was pretty quiet, just replying to him. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll bring Euny in.” He rubbed his forehead looking worried. “Yeah. Okay, thanks.”

You watched him for a moment while he hung up.

“Well?” Tae asked when Yoongi had been quiet for too long. Frozen.

“Timmy has pneumonia,” Yoongi finally said. “They want to test Euny just to be safe.”

Taehyung drooped. “That’s terrible.”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah. Alright. I can either leave you here or drop you off back home.”

Taehyung looked at Namjoon.

He shrugged. “Pretty sure we were planning on you staying here all day anyway. Whatever you want, Taehyung.”

“I’ll stay here, hyung. It’d be boring being at home with no one around.”

You kissed the kitten’s head, wondering if she did feel a little warm, before handing her over to Yoongi.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine, hyungie. If she does have it, then we know before it’s really set in and we can treat it accordingly.” Taehyung hugged Yoongi, then kissed Euny on the cheek. “I’d go with you—”

“No!” Yoongi and Namjoon shouted simultaneous.

“No, that’s okay, you stay far away from the doctors office,” Yoongi continued.

You giggled, hopping off the counter and falling into Namjoons arms when your legs didn’t work. “Good luck at the office.”

Yoongi glanced you over. “Namjoon, try not to put her back in the hospital.” He went toward the door.

You managed to get your footing again, but stayed in Namjoon’s arms.

Taehyung stretched after hearing the front door close. “So, what else needs to be done?”

“The things we don’t use a lot need to be put in the highest cabinets. But I have to unpack those still, so we’re pretty much done today. Movie time?”

“Movie time!” Taehyung agreed excitedly.

“I’ll make the popcorn.” You wobbled over to the counter and pulled out the popcorn.

“Really, though, Namjoon-hyung, maybe go easy on her next time.”

You laughed as Namjoon gave a flustered response, throwing the popcorn into the microwave. “For the record, I encouraged him to. Nothing like a good romp. And the ones that leave you wobbly the next day are the best.” You kissed Namjoon on the lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and watching him turn red.

“N-noona….” Taehyung objected, completely flustered. “I’m still here.”

“Hmm, true. Alright, I can stand Joonie. You guys go pick a movie.” You smoothed Namjoon’s shirt and turned your attention back to snacks because snacks were very important.

Snacks were very important.

———

“Thank you! Have a great day,” You told the customer, handing over their bag of sweets before going to replenish the cinnamon-sugar banana chips. They were popular with several hybrid species and with the remembrance day of the restriction of hybrids coming up, the shop had been fairly busy. It had become a custom to have a sort of communal meal, everyone bringing something to the table as a bunch of hybrids got together. Last year you’d spent it with a group of singles at a party hosted by some of the security staff.

Anyway, “Otter Perfection Sweets” had a steady stream of customers that were there to prepare for guests or being a guest. And since there was a wide selection of specialty sweets that were aimed toward hybrids, a large portion of your customers were either hybrids, or those buying for hybrids. But it was definitely different from your other job.

One, your boss was way better. She was sensible, yet fun, and very flexible about your schedule. She was very family oriented and so friendly that before you knew it she had memorized all of the names of your pack members and how they were related to your mate, and would frequently follow up on things that she heard about.

Not that you didn’t also know way more about her family than you expected to.

You’d been working there for a few weeks now, and already had dinner with her family—all of which, from her grandparents, siblings, and parents, lived in one house. Except her. She lived above the shop because,

“My sister is moving back in with them with her man and her eight pups. I love them to bits, but I also love having a full night’s rest. Besides, they’re going to come here all the time anyway.”

And you didn’t blame her one bit for moving out. Because her family did drop in all the time and depending on who it was it could get very lively in the small shop.

You helped a couple more customers, happy to see product being sold. You liked her. You liked her products. You liked this job.

“Y/n, can you refill the ice-cream freezer?”

“Yup,” You called back, hurrying to the back to get the tray of cartons out of the freezer and then bring it out.

You were so focused on straightening the shelf after filling it that you didn’t hear the person sneaking in until they spoke from directly behind you.

“You know, I’ve been in here a couple times, but you’re the most delicious looking thing I think I’ve seen so far.”

You flinched in surprise, turning to smack him down.

Namjoon grinned at you. “You were about to tell me off, weren’t you?”

Deja vu.

“Hi,” You whispered, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Hi. Why are you whispering?”

“Because I wanted two more seconds with you and if I said it louder she’d come out to say hello.” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Oh, she already saw me. Headed into the back so I could surprise you,” He replied at a normal volume. “Ready to go, baby?”

“Just need to do a few more things and clock out. While you’re waiting you should pick out those treats. Some for Jungkook since he’s spending his first summer away from home, some for Yoongi, Tae, and Eunyeong, and then the watermelon chips for the triplets birthday next week.”

“Aren’t they all coming for the triplets’ birthday?” Namjoon asked, frowning in thought.

“Yoongi has to work, Tae said he might come but he also found out that the art gala he’s supposed to go to is the night after and you know the trip takes several hours. And Jungkook got that job, so he doesn’t know if he’s going to be there or not. Either way, if we send the package tomorrow he should get it by the next day and the sentiment is still the same no matter when he gets it. Spit spot.” You waved him off and went to check out a customer.

Your boss came out to refill the truffle tray. “I give you December of next year before the two of you have pups, and that’s being pessimistic.”

You just laughed and closed out your drawer, taking it back to the office and locking it while bringing out her drawer. “I give you to August of next year before you have a serious relationship. And that’s being pessimistic.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, you just go find me someone who likes kids and knows how to balance work and fun and I’ll help you win that bet.”

“Don’t tempt me,” You replied in a sing-song voice and then skipped toward Namjoon. “No, baby, not the watermelon leather. The watermelon chips.”

“What’s the difference?” He looked confused as you changed out the bags.

“Texture.” You checked what else he had gotten, then led him up to the counter. “Anyway, how was work?”

“Eh, it was work. I’m not a fan of our current project, but what can you do? But I’m definitely ready to be home,” He answered, kissing your cheek. He slipped his arm around your waist, just handing you his wallet so you could take care of paying instead. He was breathing in your scent, trying to detox from a stressful day.

You smiled up at him, then took the bag of sweets, said goodnight to your boss and led the way out of the shop. “Last time we left my work together was the second time we’d met.”

He blinked a couple times and then smiled a dimple smile. “Wow. That was so long ago…and yet also a really short time ago.”

“We haven’t even been together a year,” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist as you walked.

“And what a year it’s been,” He said, huffing a laugh as he did. “But I knew when I smelled you that day…when you flirted so shamelessly with me, that you were the one for me. There was no one else.”

“I was shameless, wasn’t I!” You puffed up proudly. “I should get back to being shameless.”

“Only with me, baby,” He whispered smoothly. “Speaking of shameless….”

“When we get home you don’t want to wear clothes for the rest of the night?”

“Um…not what I was going to say…but I can roll with that as long as we’re in our room. Being active.”

“Deal, but I have to finish the care packages first. Then we can have fun.”

“Right. Care packages.” He got the car door for you. “Do I get one for work? And not being with you?”

“Hmm, you get to come home to your care package every day,” You reasoned, kissing him above the door and then climbing into the seat.

“What if that’s not enough to sustain me,” He asked, still holding the door open.

You hummed, pretending to think. “Then I suppose I better start working harder.”

He grinned and closed the door.

You watched him as he waited for a few cars to pass by so he could get to his side of the vehicle without getting hurt. He was wearing a suit, and loosening the tie in such an attractive manner that you wished the drive home was shorter.

Namjoon got in, adjusting his seat again and the mirrors.

So suave. So enchanting and romantic. The perfect, attractive man that you’d see as the male lead in a movie.

“How did I get such a perfect partner?” You asked softly.

He glanced at you, suddenly shy and bashful. “How did I get a lovely little wolf to join my pack as my mate?”

You thought about it. “Well, if I remember correctly, you were chasing after a pup. Something I hope to see again someday.”

He nodded, taking your hand. “Eventually, you will.”

“When we’re ready.”

“Exactly. Whenever we’re ready,” He agreed, looking at you for a moment before turning his gaze back to the road.

You settled into the seat, gazing at the road ahead, excitement bursting in your heart.

——

Previous Part.   

Masterlist.  Series Masterpost.

Taglist: @alex--awesome--22​  @missmoxxiesworld​ @bryvada​  @knjhe​  @i-dont-even-know-fck​  @ephemeral-mindset​ @young-yellkie​

[maximumjinx]

Ladybug’s Finale

Chapter 2

- didn’t expect this to get any attention, but appreciate it nonetheless!-

“Ladybug, remember to breathe.” Adrien spoke, slightly panicked. The heroine’s air of mystery and professionalism in her new suit was lost with her wheezing, bent over with hands on her knees.

“Oh my god I’m an idiot. Of course you’re Chat, same blonde hair, same eyes, nobody showers that much! How could I have never seen it?” Ladybug spoke rapidly, freaking out not because Chat was Adrien, someone she didn’t really know how to feel about, but how blind she was to it all.

“Are you upset?” Adrien looked downwards, not meeting her eyes.

“Yes! No? I’m feeling a lot.” She hadn’t felt this much in a while if she were honest with herself. Ever since Lila returned everything had been mildly numb. The panic in her heart and head felt familiar, and a tad comforting.

“Are you disappointed?”

Ladybug didn’t know how to answer. A few weeks ago, she would have been jumping for joy. But Chat was so pushy about his feelings he disregarded her own. Adrien didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the class, so he also wasn’t concerned with how she felt either. Regardless, she was cast aside.

She wasn’t disappointed that Chat was Adrien or vice versa, but maybe she was disappointed in them as a person.

She wanted so badly to reveal herself, if only to see what his reaction would be. To turn the question back on him. Instead, she squashed her curiosity. Revealing her identity now could be even more dangerous.

“If I’m honest, I don’t know how to feel about you,” she held back, watching her partner deflate, “I think I have to get to know you again. From scratch.”

Hope filled the boy’s eyes.

“I’m okay with that. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Ladybug frowned. She had thought it was mostly due to her avoidance of Chat Noir, but he hadn’t called her a pet name all night. It seemed like he was holding back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything Bug.”

“You don’t call me your Lady anymore.” Her face remained passive. “What’s up?”

She didn’t want to ask if he found someone. She didn’t want to ask if he had stopped loving her

Adrien blushed, cheeks finally uncovered to show how bashful he can be.

“I- you said-“ he stumbled, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Ladybug hummed. She felt some relief flood into her body. She took a few steps to the edge of the roof and took a seat. Adrien followed suit.

“I didn’t like it in the middle of a fight.”

“I know, I act stupid sometimes-“

“No,” She turned to him, a flicker of feeling in her chest as she met his eyes. “Don’t apologize for acting like yourself. Just for the poor timing.”

Adrien smiled at that. He dug his hands into his pockets, squeezing his fingers.

“Honestly, it was Marinette that changed my mind.”

Ladybug choked on air.

“The bakery girl?”

“Multimouse, baker, class president, designer.” Adrien smiled, “She is a girl of many hats. Makes them too!”

She felt the lilt of smile struggle to surface. Adrien had always been Chat, silliness and all. Why hadn’t he shared that part of him? Or had she not seen it in a cloud of model perfection?

“What made her change your mind?”

“She wanted to stand up to this girl at our school, Lila. She isn’t mean like Chloe, but lies a lot.” Adrien’s brows furrowed. “To make friends, gain popularity, I don’t know really. But it drove Mari up a wall.”

Ladybug lifted her eyebrows. “Mari, huh? Guess I’m not the only one graced with nicknames.”

Adrien must have been getting cold, his cheeks were dusted with color.

“Marinette kept trying to call her out on it, Lila even lied to me too. You knew that though.” He recalled her outburst in the park. “She gets akumatized so often and it’s such a headache. I told Mari to let it go, since it wasn’t hurting anyone.”

Ladybug’s fingers felt cold. It started to climb up her arms and shoulders.

“Doesn’t it hurt her?” She spoke so softly, almost afraid to say it.

Adrien looked at the street below. Suddenly being so up high without his suit made him feel uneasy. He felt vulnerable.

“Lila has taken over the class. She almost got Marinette expelled, and would have too if I hadn’t threatened her.” Ladybug’s head snapped up. “She’s been using anything and everything to hang off me and use my father. She uses everyone.”

Adrien lifted his fist out of his pocket and slammed it onto the cold gutter. Ladybug didn’t jump.

“She makes me uncomfortable, she talks badly about my friend. She makes promises to the class with her lies and never follows through.” His father’s image flickered in his head, “People like that really are the worst aren’t they?”

He shook his hair out, enjoying the ends to curl up randomly instead of styled to perfection. It was weird to see him like that, like he had finally put down the front he’d been wearing.

“Anyways, Lila never took no for an answer. The only love I’ve know is from Chloe who was the same. They don’t care about my space, my feelings, my voice.” He looked up at his lady in red. “Mari probably felt the same about Lila. You probably felt the same about me.”

Ladybug felt confused. She didn’t want to let Adrien off the hook like that, but she could see he was learning about something he had no experience with.

“You care about this girl enough to threaten Rossi?” She chewed on her lip, trying to focus on one point of Adrien’s face as to not get overwhelmed.

“She’s the only one who has cared so much about other people’s feelings in our class. She talks through their problems, helps them with their projects, keeps them company when they don’t want to talk at all.” His eyes shone. It was so dark, but he may as well have been wearing his mask.

“And I let her down.” He sighed, “The least I could do is have her back.”

“Maybe, let her know you have it? So she doesn’t feel so..” Ladybug didn’t want to finish. Adrien nudged her shoulder with his own.

“So, did you learn anything new about me?”

Ladybug thought to herself.

“You’re more timid than you let on.” Adrien frowned at that response. “You’re more thoughtful too. You aren’t this boistroseous personality that you like to show off, and you feel more guilt than you probably should.”

“I can’t really tell if any of this is good or bad LB.”

“It doesn’t really have to be one or the other,” she decided, “it’s you. For me, that’s enough.”

—

“It’s getting late. And we haven’t talked about a plan.”

“Yeah,” Adrien looked toward the direction he came, “not feeling up to going home, yknow?”

“Your dad would be worried.”

“He doesn’t notice. I’d like to say his behavior is explained by being Hawkmoth, but he’s been like this since before superheroes and akumas. My mom’s disappearance really messed him up.” Adrien looked down at his hands.

“It messed you up too,” Ladybug defended, “and you didn’t become a supervillain.”

Adrien winced. She wanted to slap herself, it was too soon.

“Ladybug.” Adrien turned, “you have to take the Black Cat miraculous.”

Her jaw dropped.

“What? No.” She stood up. “Why would you even say that?”

“It’s not safe under that roof.”

“It is with you!”

“We can’t risk that.” Adrien dusted himself off, rising to meet her.

“I just can’t be without my partner Adrien. I won’t.” Her heart was beating so fast. Was he giving up?

“We’ll figure it out. You can leave it somewhere I can get it and transform.” Adrien paused. “That might be riskier actually.”

“So then keep it!” She wrapped her arms around herself, “you need to be there with me.”

Adrien smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We both know you’ve been able to handle akumas yourself for a while now.”

“What happens if I get hurt? You need to be there to help me, you’re supposed to have my back!” Ladybug was furious. How could he do this.

Adrien nodded, seeing the argument.

“Why not train with the old man then?”

Both heroes snapped towards the new voice. Plagg poked his head from Adrien’s hood.

“He could get better at his job, and Fu can hold the miraculous until he’s ready.” The small kwami looked unamused, as he always did, but Adrien hadn’t seen him this serious in...well ever.

“He already has a full schedule, when would he have the time?”

Adrien felt a little annoyed they spoke without him.

“You managed to get more free time, what did you do?” Plagg already knew the answer. He knew Ladybug was Marinette and he knew that humans were still to blind to see true value in one another.

Ladybug looked away, and pulled her hood down.

“I prioritized my responsibilities.”

“There you go!” Plagg turned to Adrien, “drop your friends.”

“No!” Ladybug protested. Adrien looked taken aback.

“Plagg that won’t fix things.”

“They don’t care about your friend, hanging out with them means hanging out with sausage hair, and its a few hours every week that you can dedicate to training.”

“Those are his friends!”

Plagg snapped to the heroine, green eyes ablaze. For a moment she was reminded that she’s talking to a god. One of destruction.

“Adrien, I know I haven’t been around in a few hundred years. But training was always put first. This isn’t a hobby you accepted. It’s a duty.” Plagg stared his chosen down. He let the kid have fun, but he can always whip him into shape.

“Ladybug, he’s right.”

She felt something twist inside her. Was it fair to have Adrien lose his friends too? They were everything to him.

Adrien read her mind.

“I needed them and school for a lot of reasons. I wanted to get away from my father and the constant supervision. Chat Noir isn’t a curse, it’s a freedom, and if I want to keep it and my friends and you, I have to work for it.” Adrien looked determined, like he wasn’t going to take no for answer. He slipped his ring off and handed it to his kwami.

“Send me an address in the morning. I don’t have a shoot so I’ll start my first lesson then.”

Plagg smiled, “I’m proud of you, kit.”

“What if you get into trouble?” Ladybug watched the exchanged helplessly.

“I’ll be as susceptible as anyone else.” He shrugged, “and you have my back.”

“What about your friends?”

Adrien grinned, wide and delighted.

“Guess I’ll move to the back.”

--TAGLIST--

@shannaro-sakura @uninspired-writer @magic-miraculous @mividaexo  @juhavs @salsyy301 @liamnl @reblog-trasher @autumnhunter1 

[theeasternempress]

Bandaids and Safety Pins

Summary -  On one of Jason’s patrols as Red Hood, a thug gets lucky with a knife and managed to slice him and his leather jacket. Fixing the damage to his jacket turns out to be much more difficult than he anticipated. 

Author’s note - So you know how everyone kind of makes fun of Arkhamverse Jason for having a bandaid covering a rip in his shirt and a safety pin holding together a tear in his jacket? What if the reason he can’t fix them is because of his nerve damage and other injuries? Enjoy :)

 AO3

This was one of those nights that Jason had to remind himself that he actually liked Gotham and wanted to see the city improve. Well, he only liked it sometimes and that was thanks to the chili dog cart on the corner and the orange tabby cat he would occasionally see in the window across the street. But most nights, he’d be happy to see this city turned to ash.

But tonight was one of those nights that no amount of chili dogs or orange cat sightings could cheer him up. Patrol had started as usual and he’d managed to intervene in three attempted robberies, a kidnapping, and even an arson attempt before everything went to shit. 

He’d found a group of men spray painting the brick walls of a business and although Jason usually didn’t care about vandalism, he’d dropped down from the building he was perched on when he saw that it was a Planned Parenthood. A few of the men had crowbars and one had a sledgehammer, which led Jason to believe that the intentions of these men were much worse than just spray painting derogatory things about women.  

He scared one of the men when he was suddenly behind them and taunted, “What’s going on over here, boys?” 

All of them stopped what they were doing and turned to face Jason. They didn’t look like much of a threat, but Jason knew not to get cocky. Joker taught him that lesson when he was 15. 

“We ain’t doin’ nothing wrong, Hood,” one of the older men replied with a thick Gotham accent. 

“I beg to differ. How ‘bout you put all of that stuff down and I let you walk away with your heads. Sound like a deal?”

It seemed that a few of them were more than happy to drop whatever it was in their hands and leave, but the four men with crowbars gripped them tighter and one man pulled a bowie knife out of his jacket. 

Jason shrugged and cracked his knuckles with a, “Have it your way.”

 One of the men charged at him, but Jason was quick to fire a bullet into the hand holding the crowbar and then bash his head in with the end of his gun. He dropped to the ground with blood pooling around his head just as another man approached him. He swung the crowbar up with every intention of bringing it down on Jason’s head, but Jason caught his hand and shot him in the abdomen. Once he hit the ground, Jason stomped on his wrist to break it and ripped the crowbar from his grip.  

Despite seeing their two friends go down in seconds, the final three men didn’t back down. The two crowbar-wielding men attacked together while the man with the knife went to Jason’s back. He’d managed to knee one man in the groin while shooting the other in both ankles, but he didn’t have time to attack the man behind him before he slashed across his left shoulder blade. He hissed in pain, but didn’t hesitate to turn around and step away from the man before shooting him in the head. 

All of the men were either unconscious or bleeding so badly they were in shock, which gave Jason the chance to go through all of their wallets and collect any money they had. He slipped in under the door of the Planned Parenthood and grappled up onto a nearby rooftop. The money might not completely cover the costs of the damage, but it was the best Jason could do. 

Jason groaned and bent over in pain when he landed, clutching his shoulder in an attempt to stop the pain. It didn’t feel that deep, but any damage to his shoulder hurt immensely. The winter weather was making the pain in his shoulders act up and feel like the joint was practically frozen in place. Every little arm movement felt like searing pain, and this injury would only make things worse. 

A little voice in the back of his head told him to just finish patrol as usual and treat his wound later, but the logical side of him knew that he had to start treatment sooner rather than later in order to not face the consequences. 

He stumbled his way back to his apartment, clutching his shoulder in an attempt to stabilize it. It might have taken him longer to get home, but it was better to be careful than tear his wound open any further. 

He shrugged himself out of his gear and assessed the damage to his shoulder. Luckily, the cut wasn’t too deep and the bleeding had nearly stopped on its own. It was in a terrible spot to have to stitch up, so Jason was grateful that it wasn’t deep and would heal on its own. 

He rewarded himself with the hottest shower he could stand and cleaned his wound carefully, applying a good amount of antibiotic ointment and wrapping it in gauze once the area was dry.  

With the minimal amount of damage done to his shoulder, Jason knew that meant that his precious leather jacket had taken the brunt of the attack. Flipping his jacket over in his hands, Jason saw he was correct when he was faced with the huge gash across his jacket. 

Jason sighed and pulled his sewing kit out from one of his drawers. It was small and simple with only a few different colors and needles, but it got the job done. 

He dumped out a spool of black thread, sewing scissors, a long needle, and a needle threader. With how unsteady his hands were, Jason was grateful for the needle threader because he knew he’d never be able to thread the needle without it. Even when Alfred was teaching him how to sew when he was younger, Jason had never once been able to thread a needle by hand. 

Jason cut a decent sized piece of black thread and although he had a bit of difficulty with threading the needle, he was ready for the second dreaded part of sewing: tying a knot. Once again, Jason thanked Alfred’s endless patience and knowledge for teaching him multiple different ways to tie a knot. 

Despite using the easiest method Alfred had taught him, the shaking of Jason’s hands made it take longer than it should have. Jason knew that his shaking and tremors were only aggravated by the cold weather, but their true origins lay in what he suspected to be nerve damage and possibly early-onset Parkinsons. At this point, his hands were shaking so badly that the needle in his grasp would have flown across the room if it hadn’t been clenched in his fist.  

Jason was frustrated with himself for taking so long to complete a simple activity. He buried his head in his lap and groaned, feeling the urge to hit something grow stronger by the second. He didn’t realize just how hard he was squeezing his hand together until the needle pricked his finger and he opened his palm to reveal nail marks embedded in his skin. 

He sighed deeply and took some deep breaths in an attempt to stop his shaking and calm himself down. He had all the time in the world to get this done, he just had to be patient. 

Jason threw all cares about patience out the window a minute later when he had pulled the needle through his first stitch and the thread slipped out of the needle’s eyehole. He was tempted to scream in rage, but he knew it was way too late at night for that. Still, he wouldn’t mind the neighborhood reputation as the Enraged Screamer if it meant he could get some of his anger out.  

He rethreaded the needle and began again. The material of the jacket made it hard to pull the needle through, but Jason was determined to continue. 

Three stitches went by without a problem before the thread fell out again. Jason laughed, only so he wouldn’t scream, and took a minute to calm himself down. His shaking only got worse when he was angry. 

Jason fixed his needle and went slower, taking his time to ensure he had a good grip on the end of his needle. For a few stitches, everything was fine.  

When the thread fell out for the third time, Jason couldn’t help himself when grabbed it and he yelled, “Listen here, you fucking piece of trash: you have one job, now do it!”

Tears of frustration streamed down his cheeks as he yelled and cursed at the string. He buried his head in his still-shaking hands and sobbed. The Joker had taken so, so much from him, and this was just another thing lost to him. He threw the needle across the room with a heaving sob, not caring where it landed. 

In his frustrated state, Jason cut the thread and ripped it out of his jacket to reopen the hole again. He’d barely made any progress and there was no way for him to finish. 

This was the life he was left with; unable to fix a simple problem and then being reduced to tears over it. Maybe that’s why Bruce replaced him so easily. Who wanted a Robin who cried whenever he got angry when you could have a rich one?

It took a few minutes for his tears to stop, but the anger and bitterness in his heart continued. Having a breakdown wouldn’t help him fix his problem, it would only make it worse. 

With that thought in mind, Jason began searching his apartment for anything else he could use to fix his jacket. His mind jumped to ‘stapler’, but he doubted he had one here. 

The search stopped when he found a box of safety pins in the back of one of his drawers. Jason figured if he used a couple, it would be good enough to fix his jacket. 

He poured a few into his hand and started threading them through his jacket. To his surprise, they actually worked pretty well. It’d never be as good as actually sewing the hole closed, but that was never gonna happen.  

With his jacket fixed to his satisfaction, Jason tossed it aside and climbed into bed. His heart was still beating like mad and his hands were still shaky, but he had to at least try to go to sleep. Maybe his dreams would be better than the day he’d had.