#anyway who gonna tell em i haven’t even played the game yet because i just got my pc fixed…….

[antipolygon]

UPDATE FROM THE REDDIT CROSSPOST

XBOX??????!?!?!

chai and i have the same taste in fashion and music so i’m just straightup giving him my outfits cuz all i wear is band merch

[aenaxes]

OMG ok for the 200 follower celebration (based on your smoking post) PLZZZ write sharing a spice blunt with cross or any batcher of your choosing I would simply die 😩💅🏻❤️

vapor trails

[crosshair & hunter x f!reader] you don't really run with the fett twins' crowd, but you find yourself at one of their parties anyway (in reference to this post lol)

warnings: college!au, recreational drug use, suggestive themes, but consent is sexy & mandatory & sober babes

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: anon, you ask for one batcher, but why not two? thank you for enabling me nonnie & @mallr4ts lol (im so sorry to all the previous requests for the event, this one has just been needling in my brain all day and i had to get it out hsdfs)

event details here! requests are open until july 4th!

You don’t know much about the Fett twins.

They’re something like campus legends even though they’re only a year your senior and at the tail end of their fourth years. But as much as you’ve heard their names slung around in weekend plans and excited chatter, you’ve never once met them, much less seen them yourself. Between idling class whispers and dining hall conversations, all you can piece together from the rumors is that: one, they’re from a big family (you’ve heard anywhere from two to twelve other brothers, yikes); and two, as much as they work hard (because the venture capital and pre-professorial tracks seem rigorous enough), they play even harder.

It helps that they apparently own one of the biggest apartments off campus, one in which you find yourself hopelessly and miserably lost. And overdressed.

Great.

It hadn’t occurred to you that your roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, had been dressing up for her girlfriend, and that most people who had half a mind would wear something comfortable that could withstand a few spilled drinks and ash. So seeing the rest of the room in rumpled tees and sweats has you and your little black dress seeking out the nearest wall as you fiddle with your questionably sweet cup of margarita mixer.

You feel like a first year, and it sucks.

But for once, with everyone too busy mingling amongst themselves over the heavy thrum of some mumble rap beat, you manage to slip by unnoticed.

Every now and then, you dart your eyes around the ever shifting landscape of faces in the dim room, looking for even the vaguest familiarity that might let you feign being tipsy and join a group for the night. But every time you try, there’s no luck.

Fuck, you haven’t even seen anyone here before.

But there might be a god watching out for you yet when the crowd shifts just enough that you catch sight of the couch, and on it, someone you suspect to be one of the twins as he greets a few girls with a disinterested nod.

Emboldened, but mostly nervous that in the crowd of bodies and red solo cups you’re still helplessly alone, you push off the wall and squeeze past huddled cliques of conversation to make for the dark couch.

By the platinum bleached hair and big-name consulting group quarter zip, Crosshair—at least you think it’s him—lounges over the couch. He isn’t the only body on the suede seats, but he keeps to himself, his head dipped low as he works one hand over a small metal canister in his other palm.

If you weren’t having luck with the other nameless faces around you, maybe the Fett twin would keep you company—at least until your roommate came back to find you (if she did). And worst case, you’d just slink back to your dorm and mope until your roommate apologized to you with your favorite overpriced smoothie bowl the day after.

Mustering every ounce of courage you have, you plant your feet by the couch and finally speak.

"Is your name actually Crosshair?" you ask.

The man on the couch pauses, his motions stilling over the small metal cylinder in his palms, and he lifts his chin just enough to flick his eyes up towards the sound of your voice.

You always thought the girls in your droning 9AM gen-ed were wildly exaggerating his hype for their own devices, squealing over his (apparently) brooding charm and sharp looks to nip at his stash for free. But for all the vague haze surrounding your perception of the twins, you never thought that they were telling the truth.

If you had been in broad daylight under the incandescent glow of your creaky lecture hall lights, you might have called him cocky, almost haughty, how he meets you with an unreadable look for having interrupted him. But in the purple LEDs and heavy haze of vape juice and shitty tequila, he’s captivating, all dark eyes and perfectly lit skin, marked only by the needle-thin design tattooed over the right side of his face and a worn wooden toothpick bitten between his teeth.

You swallow down the dry lump in your throat when you catch him flick his eyes from your face, down the short length of your dress, and back up again.

"Smoke with me; maybe you'll find out," he drawls, toothpick bobbing as he speaks. He twists the cylinder once and offers you a wry smirk. And when you stay, speechless but there all the same, Crosshair scoots to the side and pats the narrow space between him and the couch arm, inviting you close.

"I've never smoked before," you admit a bit shyly as you drop down beside him. Your dress hikes up your thigh, and you shiver when your skin presses up against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Not even cigs?"

You shake your head. And you tell yourself that when he leans close and brushes his shoulder up against your arm, that he’s only doing it because someone’s boosted the bass, and you can’t hear him over the reverb.

"Well, good thing I'm here, yeah?"

He gives the metal canister a final twist and sets it down on the coffee table before you. Swapping the canister for a small brown sleeve, you watch in a daze as he pulls a semi-transparent leaflet from the folder and tears a strip of cardstock straight from its flap. He has pianist fingers, you think wistfully, neatly kept nails and slender grace, and you wonder if he’ll entertain you if you ask to compare your hand to his.

“What’s your name?”

You scrabble back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Uh, y/n,” you offer.

“Well, y/n,” he says with a soft laugh, having caught on to your daydreaming. “Step one, you fold your filter.”

You nod along absently as Crosshair artfully crimps the thick paper into a neat roll. As if there isn’t thirty-some odd people crammed into his apartment, he quietly takes you step by step, offering you the filter, the paper, then the contents of the canister (a grinder, he explains) like it’s a game of show and tell. But with every piece he places into your hands, you gravitate closer, closer, until you’re flush against his arm and practically hanging over his side to watch as he gently taps a line of bud over the paper.

“Here, let me give you a better look,” Crosshair says.

You expect him to bring the neat line of bud to you, but when nothing comes, you look up and find him waiting for you, one arm open in invitation as the other pats once on the dark denim of his thigh.

“Uh—”

“Sit,” he says as if you haven’t just met him fifteen minutes ago. “Front row seats if you want ‘em.”

On one hand, you barely know Crosshair outside of the rumors you hear on campus. On the other hand, he’s a genuinely pleasant person, careful to accommodate for your boundaries and offering a snide playfulness that’s banished your nerves from earlier in the night.

He’s also really fucking hot.

“Okay,” you murmur, and you let him wrap his arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap. And he’s right. Perched over his thighs, you see with perfect clarity (and without the strain in your neck) as he gently folds the paper over the mound of bud and carefully twists. It’s the prettiest joint you’ve ever seen—though it might be because it’s the only one you’ve seen.

"Final touch," Crosshair's voice rumbles over your back, shooting straight into your core as he lifts the paper's vellum edge to your lips. “Lick it for me.”

Since you sat down with him, you’ve only been the passenger, nodding along as Crosshair’s long, nimble fingers creased over filter paper and patiently pointed out things like the stray pistils in his baggie and the keef gathered at the bottom of his grinder for if you really want to get fucked up. And even though you aren’t doing much (because licking paper doesn’t really seem too crazy), it’s a step forward from the comfortable rhythm that had settled between you, and you twist around in his lap to shoot him an uncertain glance.

“Just,” Crosshair flicks his tongue over his lower lip, flashing a brief glimpse of a ball piercing towards your wide eyes. And if you weren’t so flustered, you might have recognized the coy playfulness in his gaze. “Give it a lick, right over the edge.”

“I—uh, what if I—” you stammer.

“You’re not gonna mess this up, darling,” Crosshair chuckles. If his hand squeezing brief over your waist wasn’t enough to bring heat searing over the tops of your ears, his next words, crooned low and breathy into your ear, certainly do. “You’re a smart girl. You can do it.”

"My brother giving you trouble?"

Another voice cuts through the din of the party, sparing you your stammering nerves as you whip your head up in its general direction. You’re greeted with the sight of his brother, peering down on you as he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re such a killjoy,” Crosshair mutters, drawing his arm tighter around your waist as he jabs the half-rolled joint to where Hunter sprawls down onto the couch beside him. “No, I’m not being a creep. I’m teaching our pretty underclassman here how to roll.”

Oh.

Heat rushes over your cheeks, and you can’t decide whether you want to shrink into yourself or bask in it and beg for more.

He called you pretty.

“With her in your lap,” Hunter snorts into his cup.

“It was your idea to invite your entire fucking rugby team. Where else would we do it?”

“I’m so sorry he’s like this,” Hunter laughs, tilting his head and looking up at you through his (unfairly) long lashes. Where you thought Crosshair’s tattoo was bold, Hunter’s practically blows him out of the water, a well-worn swath of ink on the left half of his face, curving into neatly stylized teeth right at the edge of his lips. “I’m Hunter.”

Huh, maybe you do have a thing for tattoos.

“Y/n,” you squeak. “It’s, um—it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he says as he offers you an easy smile. “Has my baby brother been treating you right?”

“God, two fucking minutes,” Crosshair snaps. You hear the embarrassment seeping from the vitriol, and it strikes you like a shot to the head that he’s trying to play cool in front of you. “I come out two minutes after you and—”

“We’re fraternal, and I got all the oxygen in the womb. Explains why he has awful people skills,” Hunter fake-whispers loud enough for Crosshair to hear, and you giggle as the other man groans from behind you.

“No, he’s been really nice,” you say softly once you realize that you’ve been laughing a little too loud. “He’s teaching me about weed.” It sounds juvenile when you say it, awkward and clumsy on your tongue. It’s a dead giveaway that has Hunter’s smile mellowing into something soft.

“Your first time?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Cross here’s high as shit at least four hours every day. Says it helps him do the math. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”

“You try running a nonlinear regression sober,” Crosshair snorts. “Anyways, we were just finishing up this joint before you decided to kill the vibe.”

Crosshair lifts the half-rolled joint back up to your chin, and this time, he leans forward and presses his chest close against your back as the playful snark leaves his tone, in its wake, something patient and calm as his voice rumbles by your ear.

“You gonna help me finish the job, sweet girl?”

You surprise yourself when the initial trepidation vanishes as you tip your chin down and stick out your tongue. Maybe you’re showboating now that you have an audience, feeling Hunter’s dark eyes on your lips when you touch the tip of your tongue out over the edge.

Whether it’s your lip gloss or the fine crumbs of bud stuck to the roll paper that fills your mouth with something earthy and sweet, you can’t say. All you know is they’re both following you with that intense intent, the bass and blend of voices faded out around you; just you in Crosshair’s lap and Hunter pretending to care about the drink in his hand as you lift your tongue off the far corner of the paper and close your lips.

“Good job,” Hunter muses, and you’re pretty certain he’s not talking about the joint when you feel his gaze boring into you alone.

The smell of smoke pulls you out of Hunter’s gravity, and you look back in front of you to see Crosshair snap a scuffed metal lighter shut and toss it onto the coffee table. He brings the joint back down in front of you, blowing a neat stream of whitish gray smoke past your ear.

“You know how to pull?” Crosshair asks, and his chin brushes over your bare shoulder as he speaks. He’s so close. You can smell the burn, acrid and sour, but it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t smell like some bubblegum vape when you feel his breaths curling over your skin. You just want more.

Mutely, you shake your head.

“Mm, you know how to shotgun?” Hunter offers, and you hear Crosshair huff laugher from behind you. “Might be easier for your first try.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s,” Hunter pauses, and his brows knit close as he thinks for a moment. “It’s kind of like a kiss. But not really. I take a hit and you catch my smoke. That sound okay?”

You don’t think it matters that someone’s hit shuffle on the playlist, filling the room with a hard electronic beat that might have otherwise drowned out all sound. All you hear is your heart pounding in your ears as you nod and watch Hunter lift the filter to his lips and inhale deep, then pass the joint back to Crosshair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, white trails of smoke curling over his upper lip as he lifts one hand to cup over the base of your neck.

“Open,” Crosshair whispers.

Wordlessly, you obey. Your lips part just as Hunter pulls close, so close you feel the heat of his skin spreading warm over your cheeks, and blows a soft stream of bitter smoke into your mouth. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but all the while, you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his.

“Breathe in, deep,” you hear Crosshair instruct as he begins to rub one thumb over the curve of your hip.

The smoke is thick, sluicing down your throat and filling your lungs like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not bad, just new, and pressed between the twins over the couch, you think it just might have been worth being ditched by your roommate earlier in the night. But your lungs ache, and you slowly exhale, watching as your vision fogs with a loose cloud of smoke until your chest feels clear again.

“And you didn’t even cough,” Hunter smiles. His calloused fingertips follow the slope of your neck, lingering one moment more before he pulls away. And you aren’t sure if the low buzzing in your fingertips is the weed or their combined warmth as Hunter rubs over your knee and Crosshair leans his head against your neck. “Good girl.”

“Wanna do it again,” you whisper as the buzz begins to crawl up your neck, fizzling around your temples as you lean your cheek over where Crosshair nuzzles into your shoulder.

“With him or me?” Crosshair murmurs, his lips brushing over your skin.

“You,” you say dreamily, and Hunter laughs, a sound that suddenly seems so far away as you tip your head and press close against Crosshair’s silver hair.

Crosshair leans into your touch, pressing his cheek up against your neck one last time before he’s lifting his head and bringing the joint to his lips. You hear the hiss of his inhale, smoke curling up through the narrow body of the joint as the charred end glows warm beside you.

And instead of Hunter’s approach, level with you, Crosshair looms above you, meeting your wide eyes with something of a fond smile. Dragging his hand up your chest, he follows the line of your neck and holds snug over your chin. He squeezes softly, and your jaw falls slack, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ as he dips low. He's closer than Hunter as you feel his mouth just brush over yours and breathe smoke over your tongue.

This time, it’s easier.

You swallow down the smoke and hold, just a beat longer than before. But both Crosshair and Hunter notice as your lips stay parted, and they share a soft laugh that has you exhaling smoke and pride all at once when you finally relax your diaphragm and breathe out.

“Fast learner,” Crosshair muses, nosing up under your jaw as you sink back against his chest.

You mumble incoherently, chasing his touch as the high creeps heavy and warm from your chest to your collar and settles at the back of your throat. It anchors you, molding you up against Crosshair who feels nothing short of perfect as he circles his arms loose over your waist.

You turn your head to thank Hunter when you distantly register him pressing a cool cup into your hand (water, you think you hear him say), but the words slip back down into your throat, your eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy and coarse over your blurry vision.

“You wanna lay down?” Hunter offers, and his voice comes to you like you’re underwater, warped and bubbling past the din of the party around you.

You're pretty sure you nod.

For a few moments, you catch traces of an unintelligible exchange between the twins, only aware of the rumble of Crosshair’s voice at your back, and then you’re being lifted up off the couch, the music and raucous laughter fading behind you.

A door opens, squeaking half-shut, and you wince as a light clicks on beside you. Whoever was carrying you sets you down on something soft and cool, and you sway as the light dims and you settle into your seat.

You’re on a bed, you think.

Crosshair’s, judging by the shock of light hair that you can make out through your lashes. He helps you into a worn tee that reaches past the short hem of your dress, and you wiggle into it with a soft whine, holding it tight.

But where you expect a familiar weight to dip down next to you and pull you close, your eyes fly open when you see his figure turn away from you and towards the neon lights of the party outside.

“You aren’t staying?” It's the most coherent you've been through your first high.

“Not tonight,” Crosshair says softly. He turns back towards you and reaches up to fix the strap of your dress as you sit on his bed. “Baby’s first tokes got you all dopey. Right now, what you need is this,” and he presses a plastic bottle of vitamin water he’s seemingly produced out of nowhere into your palm. “This,” he adds, pressing your phone into your other hand. “And a good night’s sleep.”

“And what if I say I need you, too?” you pout.

Some part of you—the conscious part locked away in the back of your skull—bangs up against the hazy high at the crown of your head because when you’re good and sober and when Crosshair inevitably turns you down, you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for the next semester.

But he breaks into a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. It’s just a split-second of warm, chapstick-soft lips on your skin, but it floods you with an indescribable good from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

And as high as you are right now, you have a hell of a hunch that the flutter in your chest is going to stay, even when the room stops wobbling around you.

“When you’re all sobered up in the morning, we’ll make you breakfast, and we’ll figure it out from there,” Crosshair says after he’s pulled back, reaching up to smooth his palm over your hair. “Sound like a plan?”

You nod, probably with a little too much enthusiasm, but you’re rewarded with another low chuckle that’s practically music to your ears. His hand gentle and firm over your shoulder, Crosshair guides you down onto the bed and pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Now text your roomie so she doesn’t call the cops on us, get some sleep, and drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond.

“Good girl.”

And when the lights click out, you curl into Crosshair’s pillow, breathing in cold, fresh notes of his cologne, and then you’re asleep.

You climb out of bed the next morning, your minidress rumpled under a long shirt. It's not like a hangover, no, you just find yourself a bit lightheaded and throat parched, and the disorientation makes your head spin as you’re greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and something savory—

Your roommate doesn’t wake up earlier than you, and she can’t cook for shit. And why were your sheets grey? Whose shirt were you—

Oh.

Fuck.

You practically burst out of Crosshair’s bedroom, and you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you hadn’t expected to see Hunter sipping mildly on a mug of coffee while Crosshair pushes something around in a pan over their kitchen range.

“Mornin,’” Hunter offers you a small wave, and reaches for a third mug on the countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee so we just made it black.”

“What happened last night?” you gasp. If you weren’t so panicked, you’re certain the sight of them sporting nothing but grey sweats would have been your only concern, but you’ve just woken up with foggy memories and the slimy dread of anxiety that follows a blackout night.

“Easy, easy,” Crosshair assures you as he steps away from the stovetop. “Nothing happened after we smoked. You took, like, two hits, and you were so hazy you couldn’t remember your dorm number, so we put you to bed, and I slept out in the living room. Fetts are wild but we’re not scumbags, promise.”

And judging from the throw blanket sliding off the edge of the couch cushions, you’re fairly certain you can believe him. Relief floods your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh, and your shoulders sag as the weight of panic sloughs off your back.

They both laugh softly, the sudden tension lifting from the bright morning light, and you can’t help but join in. And when that rosy relief gives way to silence again, it’s Crosshair who speaks next.

“So, you staying for breakfast?”

“Can I borrow some actual clothes first?”

“Done deal.”

[ripperdaddy]

the viktor vector romance path + ending we deserve

Disclaimer: This is definitely something I came up with in my head. There will be a few instances that are solely made up so it can tie in with the “story.” This is purely fictional; something I wished happened if there was a possible Vik romance 🥰 This is based on my general knowledge of the game & Vik’s life. All gifs + images are from my own personal play through, but wouldn’t be possible without the help of the Appearance Menu Mod, found on Nexus Mods by the creators, MaximiliumM and CtrlAltDaz. And the shirtless Vik mod by the lovely samsnak ♡

It would start after completing the Paid In Full quest where you pay Vik back the eddies you owe him.

I feel like realistically, the general player would have to be at least halfway through the story to have collected enough eddies. I would say that a good point in the story where we can begin the romance is that you’ve already established a connection to Alt and have dealt with the VDB’s.

I think it would be a short side quest like River’s. Vik already plays a big part in the story overall on his own, so I don’t think it’s necessary to make his “side quest” too long. His romance would just be an addition to the ending.

And as much as I would love for him to be a bisexual option for both male/female V, if we’re sticking with the game’s standard with limiting partners to only one kind of partner, he would only be romance-able by a female V with a feminine voice.

V: Finally scrounged up enough eddies to pay you back in full.

Vik: Hold on to ‘em just in case - you need ‘em more than me.

V: I’m not taking them all the way to my grave, Vik. Here. And.. thanks again for doing so much work on me ‘thout ever seein’ an enny.

Vik: That’s what friends are for.

Then, there is an additional option for dialogue to trigger the romance path.

V: Friends? I think you’ve been in and out of my body more than anyone else I’ve hooked up with in Night City.

He laughs, with a coy smile. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Why don’t we take some of these eddies and grab a drink. You know, to celebrate. Catch up on old times. Haven’t seen you round here much lately, kid.”

You agree to meet at the El Coyote Cojo tomorrow evening.

You meet around 9 PM and you are welcomed by the sight of Pepe and Vik at the bar.

V: Nice choice of venue.

Vik: Thought you’d like it. Haven't been here since.. well, you know.

V: I miss him, Vik.

Vik: I know, V. Me too.

You immediately take a seat and tinker with a few dialogue options, where you can either have a sweet moment talking about Jackie or some surface questions to ask, like how he’s doing, what kind of drink he likes, etc. But it all winds down to Jackie anyway, where Vik confides in you about his past. Judging by how Vik was so affected by Jackie’s death, and V’s (if you chose the suicide ending), you can tell that he has lost a lot in his life, and keeps his circle very small.

You then achieve an even closer, more personal relationship with him. But, ultimately nothing happens other than the usual, wait 24 hours in game for a text/phone call from Vik to head into the next stage. At least now, you have established the foundation for a future romance.

Halfway through the 24 hour period, you get a text from Vik thanking you for the lovely evening. No reply needed, as he calls you once the 24 hour mark hits and invites you out for another date.

You meet at Tom’s Diner for coffee in the afternoon. It starts off with him apologizing for being emotional the previous night and asks if you’re open to hanging out again and going down to Pacifica to watch a fight with him.

Vik: Hey, V. I just wanted to apologize about last night. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.

V: It’s okay, Vik. We share the same grief.

Vik: I was going to head down to Pacifica and catch a real good match later on today. I was wondering if you’d like to come along, think it’d be great for the both of us, you know, as a distraction.

pssst even Johnny’s rooting for y’all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Johnny: Hmm, interesting.

V: What?

Johnny: Never thought you'd be going out with this guy.

V: Vik's amazing. And I mean--we basically owe it to him since he practically saved our life.

Johnny: Don't tell me you're going out with him out of pity.

V: I'm not.

Johnny: I know, I can feel you get all mushy-gushy. It's almost repulsive. Just wanted to hear you admit it.

V: Eat a dick, Johnny.

You arrive before the GIM and blend into the crowd.

V: Nothin’ like watching guys beat the shit out of each other to get your blood pumpin’, huh?

Vik: This is a real good matchup, V. This kid’s fresh, young talent.

V: You miss it, don’t you?

Before the fight begins, Vik shares a story about his time in the ring and coming in second in the Watson Boxing Grand Prix.

There’s some extra fun options in the dialogue, you can bet some eddies on who’s gonna win, or side with him. The fight ends, and you two head outside.

Since you’re already out in Pacifica, you head over to the boardwalk (where you would ride the roller coaster with Johnny) and he starts telling you about the last days of his boxing career and how he transitioned from the sport to being a ripperdoc.

You both share a sweet moment with each other, reminiscing about old times and talking about V’s future with the relic. This is where I would see Vik confessing how he feels about you, mentioning how grateful he is for Jackie introducing you to him.

The evening ends and Vik asks you to give him some time to try and dig up some footage from his storage and have you come over to watch. You can kiss him then wait another 24 in game hours before the last quest. Halfway through, he texts you and asks you what you’d like for dinner. You can opt for pizza or chinese.

I haven’t seen or read anything about how or where Vik lives. If I overlooked something, please let me know! But for the sake of the story, let’s say he does actually have his own place that’s now introduced in the game. Personally, I think he has a typical bachelor pad, like a really nice apartment. Not too far from his clinic either. He looks like he would just walk to work. Vik definitely has a lot of money, but he’s so humble I doubt he would choose to live lavishly. As mentioned in the beginning, he typically just “sleeps nights” ever since he was over “being a legend” so I’m guessing his lifestyle is very routine. He goes to work, goes home, sleep. Seems unlikely he has a place like the Peralez’s. It would probably be just the same as V’s but decorated to his taste.

The evening comes and you are over at his place. He’s dressed in just a white undershirt, no exo-glove. You get to know more about his family, how he grew up — scanning things around his place. Then he plays some footage of one of his fights for you, while you two have a conversation and share a beer. As you two sit on the couch, you get close, then have an opportunity to kiss him.

then this is where da sex happen hihihi (ノ・ω・)ノ

The next morning you wake up and you two have a heartfelt conversation about where this is going. He already knows your situation, so I would assume he is very accepting and supportive. And with Vik, he seems like the kind of guy who would still want to be in your life and keep the friendship the same way despite no longer being together romantically. So it’s official. He’s your man 🥵 !!11!1!

Like how River gives you the “fuck the police” tank top after sleeping with him, I think Vik would give you his Night City Devils t-shirt that provides you with a significant amount of armor or some kind of cyberware upgrade that makes you invulnerable for a brief moment while using your hands to fight enemies.

Note: I was thinking of Vik giving V his boxing glove necklace, but because it's part of his character's appearance in the game, I don't think we would be able to essentially "take it" from him - unless he gives you a replica as a keepsake. Which I think would also work.

If you successfully romance, during the rooftop scene near the end of Nocturne OP55N1 (despite Vik’s disposition of him telling you to take matters in your own hands and being a little closed off), you still have an option to reach out to him when Johnny advises you to call a loved one.

V: Hey, Vik. I just wanted to say, thanks for hanging with me, until the end.

Vik: Quit talking like it is, V. Just do what you need to do.

V: I mean, think of it. It’s like I’m heading into the last round of this whole thing.

Vik: Well, in that case.. remember—keep your hands up, guarded at all times. It ain’t over just yet.

V: Heh.. I can feel it, just a few more punches.

Vik: Now look at you - the new welterweight champ of Night City.

V: Thanks, coach.

Vik: Last piece of advice from the coach's corner. Just.. be careful, kid. Remember, I’m with you.

Okayyyy, soooo I’m not the biggest fan of how CDPR gave us two of the same endings (Path of Glory). The only difference is that Rogue’s life is spared. I would have assumed that not only would we get to keep Rogue around, things should have played a bit more differently for V if we took the route of going solo against the corpos. So let’s tweak it.

This specific ending; it should be after getting through Don’t Fear The Reaper where you single-handedly manage to rip through Arasaka by yourself. Johnny goes back to Alt & Rogue is still alive. Yes nobody dies!!!

(honestly this ending can apply to any love interest you choose)

Vik and V are now living together in a lavish penthouse, entertaining an upcoming merc to do their work for them (which is now the current POV of the player.) You were recruited by Rogue at the Afterlife, who told you to visit this couple for a real, preem job.

They give you some vague details about the gig and go on for a brief moment about what you will be doing and what you should expect. Vik emphasizes to you that it’s important you get what they need because it’s for his wife, V, as her life depends on it.

As Never Gonna Fade Away is playing in the background, they tell you to break into Arasaka HQ.

Then the game officially ends.

[generouspeachheart]

Jealousy is gunfire

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader

Summary: Spencer and reader are in a secret relationship. The team tries to get them to get over eachother. Spencer fucks up. Reader does too. They make up in the end. If there are anny grammar mistakes, feel free to let me know!

Category: Angst with a happy ending. 

Warnings: Cursing.

Words: 2,821

-

You and Spencer had been dating for about 4 months now. No one in the them knew about it. They teased you relentlessly about your ‘crushes’ on each other, not knowing that one night, after a case, you invited Spencer over for a Dr. Who marathon, where he confessed to liking you more than a friend, and you kissed the living hell out of him. However, just like everything else in your lives, things were bound to get complicated.

-

“You think we should tell them?” Looking down on the rest of the team, while you and Spencer took off to the break room to refill your coffees, the question popped into your head. “I mean…..I don’t know. We’re colleagues after all, so….so maybe we-we shouldn’t.” Spencer pointed out. I know it’s the right thing to do but I don’t really want to keep it a secret from anyone. But it seems as though he does, so I’m not gonna push it. “Yeah, you’re right, I was thinking the same thing.”

I didn’t want to keep my relationship with Y/N a secret. I want to tell everyone. I want to shout if from the rooftops. That I finally got the girl of my dreams. I was hoping she would say no to my proposal. I was hoping she was gonna say that she wants everyone to know. Everyone was ‘shipping’ us anyway, so I didn’t see why we should keep it a secret. But she clearly wanted it kept a secret, so I wasn’t going to push it. “Alright then, I think we should go back to them.” “Yeah, let’s go.”

-

All that mess let us to this night. We had a night off, and planned on going out together, since we haven’t been out as a team for a long time. As much as both you and Spencer wanted to spend the night on your couch, watching a cheesy rom-com and eating junk food, it would look too suspicious, seeing as everybody else had agreed, so you both agreed to come with as well. First mistake.

“Alright so ill meet you all in front of ‘Jack Rose’ 8pm sharp?” “Yes, sir!” the team all said in unison. “Mind if I run late, beefcake?” “Depends on the reason, Pretty Lady. ” “I have to pick up a dress from my sisters house.” That was sort of a lie. The dress in question is a dress I actually left at Spencer’s place after our fourth date. It was a beautiful dark purple, backless dress Spencer loved on, and also off of, me, so I knew that was the one I had to wear. “Hmmm, I don’t know if I believe you, Boss Lady.” You really loved Morgan, but him snooping in your business was much more than you could handle tonight. “How do I know you’re not just gonna ditch us?” I sighed. “Pinky promise?” I ask, holding out my pinkie finger towards Morgan. “Alright then.” He said, after hooking his own pinky finger with mine. ”I’ll see you a bit later than 8pm, Pretty Lady.” “You got it, beefcake.”

As far as I know, Y/N hadn’t left a dress at her sisters. Maybe she was lying trying to get us out of all this. But then the pinky finger is not a promise Y/N’s known to break. Alright then.

Y/N felt a buzz coming from her phone as the team was saying their goodbyes.

~From: My Pretty Boy ♡

What are you up to?

As soon as the team split up, he got a text notification on his phone.

~From: My Pretty Lady ♡

I’m planning to wear The Dress ™.

A smile overtook Spencer’s face.

~To: My Pretty Lady ♡

So, may I drive you home, m’lady?

~From: My Pretty Lady ♡

Yes, sir. You may.

-

That’s what got us here. In this goddamn sweaty club where Morgan is trying to make me talk to some blonde he found sitting alone at the bar. “I’m telling you, Pretty Boy, you have to get over Y/N. If you’re not going to do anything about that little crush of yours, then you need to get busy.” He really loved Morgan, but him snooping in his business was much more than he could handle tonight. He noticed you dancing on the floor with Garcia and Emily and figured, to get Morgan off his case, he’s just going to go up to her, explain the situation, and if she could, politely, slap him and walk towards the lady’s room. “Fine, ill go talk to her.” As he went stood up to go bother this poor girl what he failed to notice is Y/N’s eyes scanning the bar trying to find him, to try and convince him to dance with her.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you have to get over Spencer. The only way to do so, is to get jiggy with that model that has been staring you down the entire time you’ve been dancing.” Emily could really be a push-over sometimes. “I’m not going to do that, Em. I don’t mind just dancing with you two.” “Oh, come on, Y/N, give yourself a bit of a break here. You have been thirsting over Wonder Boy long enough, I think its time.” Garcia can be a bit of a push-over too, at times. “You’re right. It’s been long enough, I’m going to go ask Spencer to dance with me!” You said, yelling over the loud music, ignoring the cheers coming from Garcia and Emily. As you scanned the room to find him, you noticed he’s not at the table with Morgan anymore. “I’m going to go get a bit of liquid courage, and then I’m gonna go find out where he is!” You yelled, separating from the ladies, heading for the bar. As the crowd cleared, you came to a halt. There he was. Flirting with a girl. At the bar. Her hand lightly touching his arm, whilst he threw his head backwards, laughing at something the blonde had said. First, he wanted to keep the two of you a secret, saying it’s for ‘the better for the team’, and now there he was, flirting with a random girl in a bar they were both in. She was so pretty and her hair was so flowy and she looked nothing like you. You saw red. ‘Both can play that game, Spencer’ you thought, heading back towards Emily and Garcia. “What happened, Y/N?” “You were right, Em. Spencer is just a waste of my time. Where’s that model you were talking about earlier?”

As the girl from the bar slapped him across the face, storming off to the bathroom, he thanked her as she walked past him. Going back to the table, he saw Morgan’s disappointed face staring at him. “What the hell happened?” “I don’t know. It was going well and then I guess I said something wrong, because she accused me of trying to take advantage of her, and well… you saw the rest.” “That’s a real shame, Pretty Boy. What are you gonna do know?” Spencer thought about it. What was he gonna do? He didn’t want any of this happening again, so he decided to go and find you on the dance floor and tell you he doesn’t want to keep your relationship as a secret anymore. “I’m going to go dance with Y/N!” “Oh, wow, way to go man.” He looked toward Morgan to thank him for the wishes, but saw his smile flatter. “What wrong?” “I think you may have missed your chance. Look.” He said, pointing towards the dance floor. First, he saw you, in that beautiful dress of yours. Then he saw the smile on your face. And then he saw your arms around some guy, and his arms dangerously close to the lower part of your back. He was a bit shorted than him, muscular and had light blond hair that fell just over his ears. He saw red. He knew it was sort of his idea to keep you a secret but he didn’t expect you to go out and dance with random men you found at a bar you were both in. He stood up angrily, and headed towards the dance floor.

Seeing his face twist with anger was not a sight you ever wanted to see. But you stood your ground. “Spencer, hey.” You tried to sound cheerful as if you just saw a childhood friend, not your pissed off boyfriend. You took your arms off the guy and before you could do anything with them, Spencer took your forearm, squeezing lightly. “Can we talk, Y/N?” spitting the words through his teeth. “What about?” you tried to sound innocent but the venom from your lip wrapped around the words getting out of them, and the fire in your eyes wasn’t easily dismissed. “Y/N, please.” You know it was supposed to be all insecure and sweet tricking you into feeling bad, but you weren’t backing down. “Sure, let’s get out of here.” You took the hand wrapped around your forearm, tearing it away, and pulling him towards the exit. As you entered the valley behind the bar, Spencer decided to finally talk.

“What the hell was that?” he spat. “What was what?” ”Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.” he warned. She dared chuckle. “Oh, you mean that blond guy who I was dancing with?” she gestured towards the bar. “Oh, he was so nice.” She said, dismissing with her hand. “What the hell is this about?” “I should be asking the same thing, Spencer.” He never heard his name come out of your mouth like that. He was scared.

“What were you doing with that blonde hottie at the bar, huh, Spencer?!” you yelled. “What made you laugh so hard you forgot your girlfriend was in the room, huh!?” you yelled some more. “Y/N, that…. I wasn’t…” “Oh now cats got your tongue, huh, Spencer?” “No, I… I wasn’t flirting with her.” “What Is it you were doing then?!” you yelled again. “Morgan said I should go get her number to get over you, and I went over and told her about us and asked her to slap me?!” he screamed back. “What the fuck was so funny then?!” she screamed yet again. “She said you looked like a runway model, and I agreed!” “Oh, come on!” “Its true! You can ask Morgan if you like!”

He was tired of screaming. His voice cracked with the next words. “I would never flirt with someone else. Why would I ever want to? I have you. You’re more than enough for me. You are way out of my league and I’m lucky you even looked my way.” He saw the way your eyes fell after he said that. A silence took over the both of you. She lowered her arms. “I was dancing with that guy because Emily and Garcia told me to.” Spencer looked up at that. “I was actually about to find you and ask you to dance with me instead.” Fuck. “But then I saw you with that girl. And I got mad. Like, really mad.” Shit. “I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t….I don’t….” He sure felt like shit right now. He dropped his head and looked at his shoes. He then felt a pair of fingers on his chin.

You lifted his chin so he could look at you. “Its okay, Spence, you didn’t know.” His mouth seemed to perk up at the nickname. “I’m sorry for dancing with that guy. Its just…” you stopped for a second, contemplating whether you should confess this. Fuck it. “I know about your ‘preference to blonds’. And when I saw that girl and you, I just. I got insecure and jealous and I just….” You’re pretty sure he saw the tear that fell down your cheek, but you couldn’t care. “I’m sorry, I know green is a horrible color on me.” He wiped the tear off your cheek. “You look stunning in green. In any color, if I’m being honest. But there is no need to be jealous.” You looked up at him. Staring him right in the eyes. Those beautiful, soft eyes you often found yourself getting lost in. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. You hear me? I’m in love with you. And only you.”

“I’m in love with you too.” you confessed, after some silence. “I’m sorry.” “No, I’m sorry.” “I guess we're both sorry then.” You tried your hand at humor, but Spencer didn’t laugh. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” “Were both at fault here, Spence, its ok….” “No, I’m at fault. I’m the one who brought up keeping us a secret and I shouldn’t have.” “Oh…” “I don’t want to keep you a secret. I just….” You brought your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. He leans into your palm. “I was just afraid you would be ashamed of being with me.” “Spencer.” A tear fell. “Spencer no! No. I’m not ashamed of you. I never was. Why would I be, Jesus Christ, have you seen yourself? Have you heard yourself?” Spencer then opened his eyes to look into yours. “You’re brilliant. You’re perfect for me. To me. And if I’m being honest?” Spencer nodded his head confirming he was ready to hear whatever is about to come out of your mouth. “You’re a fucking smoke show!”

I didn’t expect that. She caught me off guard. I let out a laugh. God, I love her. With every atom of my being. “Really?” He knows he shouldn’t have asked that. He felt the smack over his head before she even raised her hand. He squeezed his eyes inn anticipation. But instead, he felt both her hands on this jawline. Opening his eyes he saw the most truthful look he ever saw on a person. “Really, Spencer-nova. You’re the hottest piece of ass I ever fucking saw.” I would laugh if I wasn’t so lost in her eyes. I pulled he to me, laying my lips against her soft ones. With every kiss a new set of butterflies erupts from his stomach. Pulling away, he states. “Did you know that some butterfly species migrate from the cold? Although in many cases cold weather will end the already short life of a butterfly by rendering them immobile, others take the dropping temperature as a signal to move. Butterflies are cold-blooded and require, in ideal settings, a body temperature of approximately 85 degrees to activate their flight muscles. If the weather begins changing some species simply migrate in search of sunshine. Some, like the North American Monarch, travel an average of 2,500 miles.” She looked at me with the most love anyone has ever looked at him. “I did not know that. But I’m so fucking happy to know now.”

-

“I’m sorry I didn’t oppose to the idea.” ”I’m sorry I ever said anything about keeping us a secret.” They were currently sitting on Y/N’s couch, after driving to her house from the bar, stripping their club clothes and putting on their favorite pj’s, watching Love, Actually. Okay Love, Actually played in the background as they kissed. A lot. And talked. Occasionally.

Suddenly your eyes widened. “Oh shit!” “What is it?” you could hear the panic in Spencer’s voice. “We didn’t tell them anything.” Spencer chuckled. “Oh, shit, indeed.” You both sprinted to their respective coats, pulling out their phones. You had 12 missed called from Garcia and 5 texts from Emily.

~From: Praying Mantis:

Y/N WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

DID SPENCER DO ANYTHING?

I SWEEAR TO GOD I WILL MURDER HIM. I’M NOT SCARED OF JAIL!

I just saw his car pulling away. I hope the two of you are okay.

ANWSER ME GODDAMN IT, IM WORRIED

~To: Praying Mantis:

Sorry, Em. We are both fine. We're together. We're fine. I'll fill you in on the deets later. Love you. ❤️

~To: Unicorn Goddess:

Srry, bb. Spence and I are finito. Spilling 🍵 ltr. Ly ❤️

~From: Praying Mantis:

Oh, thank God. Enjoy the silence now, Y/N, I’ve got a lot of questions for the two of you. Love you too. ❤️

~From: Unicorn Goddess:

Okay, bb. Hope ur having fun! 🍆 🍑 💦 Ttytmrw! Ly2 ❤️

You head a chuckle behind you. Turning your hear you saw Spencer talking on the phone. By the wolf whistles coming from Spences phone, you guessed he was talking to Morgan. “Say hi to beefcake for me!” you yelled, seeing Spences cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. “I didn’t know she was with you, dude, oh my god why didn’t you say so? Okay, okay goodbye now, enjoy your night, Pretty Boy.” Morgan all but screamed into his phone. As Spencer hung up the phone, he looked over at you. “Situation defused?” he asked. “Situation defused.” You confirmed.

[lloydskywalkers]

any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city. 

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

************

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

************

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. “So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

************

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

************

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

************

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?  

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

************

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

************

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

************

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.  

************

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

************

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

************

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.  

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.  

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.  

[urimaginespimp]

Cowboy Like Me

Alfie x Reader

A/N: For some reason, the moment I heard this song from Evermore, my mind just immediately went to Alfie and a possible fic, so here you go!

--------

You were a traveler always yearning for a good life, never staying in one location for too long.

Despite being unexpected, your mother who was a high-class prostitute loved you unconditionally and taught you everything you needed to know – how to act like a proper lady, what men wanted to hear, how to wrap them around your finger, and how to detach yourself from falling inlove with them.

“But you have to promise me you’d lead a different life.” She told you when you were in your teens.

“But mama, what use would be what you’ve taught me?” your doe-eyed innocent face asked her.

“Men are as gullible outside a brothel, dear.” She pats your head lovingly. Smiling at your confused expression, she assured you. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

For years, you two only had each other and you loved it that way. That was until the flu took her and you were left on your own.

Taking what little you have, you set out to make a living for yourself. It still took you a lot of getting used to a new lifestyle, but slowly you found it easier and easier to sweet talk every rich man you gave attention to into doing and giving you what you want without having to give your body. Maybe expensive possessions for you to sell, or the easy cash they wouldn’t think twice on giving you. Every town unvisited was wealth missed for you.

August in Liverpool was chilly. Thankful that you get to wear a coat over your dress, you smiled at the man guarding the infamous Eden Club as he let you in.

It was nothing you haven’t been to before – expensive interior, everybody dressed to the tens, and filled with rich lonely men. Only that you heard this was ran by Italians. Making your way in the middle towards the bar, you smiled sensing that heads turned your way.

By the bar you sat on one of the stools, enjoying a drink. Glancing to your left, you caught the eye of a man five seats away from you. He was clearly staring at you and liked what he was seeing.

He looks rich enough, so you offered a shy smile. He was about to get up from his seat when a, tall, buff man with a cane approached him. He had a beard, and was dressed nicely with black cape toe boots.

Not liking when people take your prey away, you decided to let it slide and look for another thinking that he didn’t know what he’s done. But as soon as your missed conquest was preoccupied with ordering another drink, the man with the beard turned your way with a smirk and winked at you.

He knew what he’s done.

Annoyed, you still gave him a sly smile, all thought of looking for another man went out the window. Three things were clear to him: You were beautiful, you didn’t know you almost encountered Darby Sabini, and that you didn’t know who the hell he himself was. For no sane person who have heard about him wouldn’t even dare look him in the eye nor smile.

When Sabini announced that he was retiring for the night, he bid the man goodbye, told Ollie to head home, and decided to approach you.

“You’re not from around er, luv?” He asked you. Standing in front of you now, it was undeniable that this man is way more handsome than the first one.

“Do first timers in this town get a free drink from you?” You smiled, peering at him through your lashes.

“I can buy you the whole bar, lass. But you’re gonna have to dance with me first.” He chuckled, extending his arm to you.

“Dancing is a dangerous game.” You said, taking his hand anyway, thinking that this would just be like one of your many nights.

Walking to the dancefloor, a slow tune was being played by the band. Taking both of your hands, he rested them on his shoulders, and you both started swaying to the tune.

“Dancing should be the least of your worries, luv. What’s dangerous was the man you were giving that pretty smile of yours earlier.” He explained.

“I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.” You answered, shrugging.

“Mmm. Are you some sort of seducing bandit?” he asked. That was the first thing that went to his mind. A bandit.

“Why, do you think I’m out to seduce you?” you replied slyly.

“Takes one to know one, dear.” You both chuckled.

“You don’t strike me as a bandit, Mr…”

“Solomons. Alfie Solomons.” He finally introduced himself.

“Alfie.” You said. He tried to act like the mere mention of his name from your lips affected him. “I’m just a traveler, making ends meet by telling the rich folks anything they wanna hear.” You said quietly, looking him in the eye.

“A traveler… like one of em cowboys then?” He bluntly asked, making you giggle.

“If you see it that way.” You shrugged, chuckling.

“What do you tell those poor blokes?” His curiosity got the best of him.

“Hmm…” you ran your hands lower to rest on his chest. “Maybe how nights like this could lead them to something nice, and for the lonelier ones, I make them think it could lead to something more. But the thing is, Mr. Solomons, I have yet to meet someone who made me forget my mother’s most important rule.”

“And that is?”

“Not falling in love.” You gave him a sweet smile.

“You’re a cruel vixen, luv.” He said, looking at you intensely. Alfie wasn’t at all intimidated of you. He never wanted love. All the money, business, and fancy cars were enough for him. Forever is the sweetest con, he’d say. But something about you also intrigued him. Maybe because you were all to similar.

“I often just meet with ambitious men and tell em I’m the way forward.” He told you.

“Well, are you?” You asked, as his head got closer to you. Bringing his lips closer to your ear, he whispered.

“Only if they pay for it.” Sending you shivers down your spine.

--------

That night, he personally escorted you back to where you were staying over.

” Will I be seeing you again?” You asked, not trying to sound desperate. There was nothing wrong with making friends, you assured yourself.

“I know who owns this place. I’ll call in some time for you.” He answered, tucking your lose hair behind.

“That is, if I’d still be here by then.” You smiled.

“Well. Who am I to stop a traveler.” He sighed, masking his disappointment. “Got something to help me remember you by, luv?” He asked jokingly.

“it’s your call, Mr. Solomons. What do you want?” You whispered looking up to meet his gaze. For the first time in in your months of travels, something in you was yearning to stay longer.

Maybe it was the way your eyes were full of stars from looking up to him in the night, or that really liked you, but Alfie found himself leaning down to meet your lips. It wasn’t long ‘til you were responding. It was soft, but probably the most intense kiss you ever had, leading you both inside.

Clothes were taken off and thrown all over the room, somehow getting his boots of with ease, he kicked them beneath your bed and lead you both on top of the sheets. As sweet as it was, you both knew it was one for parting your separate ways.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself staying for two more nights in that guest house in hopes of him calling. But it never came.

That was a month ago and that night was still fresh in your memory. It didn’t go the way you expected, but meeting a man such as Alfie Solomons was way better.

You were in a town called Camden. You’ve had several conquests for the last month from other towns - typical older men that you’ve swindled into believing you were smitten by them.

Walking along its streets, you didn’t know this was where the Alfie Solomons resided. That was until you were in a small café and you overheard a group of ladies talking about him passing through the town that morning.

“I thought he never leaves that bakery of his.” One of them said.

“That man needs a wife. Maybe then he’d actually be less brooding.”

Finishing up, you paid your fee. You needed to leave his town immediately. Because as much as he made you feel things you never thought you’d deal with, you’ve decided that he was bad for your ambitions.

Walking briskly through the streets of Camden, you were only a few houses down to your guesthouse when you stopped on your tracks.

By the door of it was no other than Alfie, expectantly waiting for you, his left hand holding the leash of a dog.

“When Ollie told me you went into town last night I almost didn’t believe him.” He started, slowly walking towards you.

Seeing the man again made you forget whatever it was you warned yourself about him.

“I never thought I’d meet you here.” You answered in all honesty.

“Don’t worry. I’m not one to accuse ladies of stalking.” You both chuckled.

“I guess I won’t be having any luck in Camden too, huh?”

Whoever and whatever goes in and out of Camden was his business. So, when Ollie told him that the lady from Liverpool was seen entering a guesthouse last night, he took the chance of looking for you that morning after a sleepless night clouded by you.

“Perhaps you will.” He answered.

“Oh?”

“Luv, I’m going out a limb here when I say you can’t deny there’s something ‘er.” He told you seriously.

“But you never called.” That was all you could say. You couldn’t even deny what he said.

“All coz I called too late. Ya never heard of all that no calling til three days? Ollie advised me so I won’t look too desperate. Almost fired the lad.” He chuckled.

“Well, what does Camden have to offer the bandit?” You smiled teasingly.

“Everything you want so long as you stay with me, luv. We could be the way forward.” He convinced you, taking a step closer.

��And?” tilting your head to the side, trying not to laugh at him using that line with you.

“And I know I’ll pay for it.” He rolled his eyes before taking you head with his free hand and crashed his lips to yours.

He was the lone exception to your mother’s rule, and the one to help you lead a different life. You knew you were never gonna love again.

[childrenofthenightt]

That’s The Way (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Jimmy Page x Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warning(s): smut/nsfw, cheating, cursing, angst, Y/N being a badass :)

Author’s notes: We’ll be honest...this chapter is a lot to handle 😂 which is amazing since it’s only Chapter 3 of many! We suggest taking a break throughout, because you’re gonna need it 😂 So much happens that your mind may actually explode from the drama. By the way, Jimmy is introduced in the next chapter so yay! As usual, please enjoy, happy reading, and send us messages if you have theories, comments, music recommendations for the playlist, or if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Chapters: 1 | 2

————

Paul took Y/N out to dinner that week, and they had a wonderful time together. It seemed that every conversation they had together brought them closer and closer, and Y/N was in pure bliss. From that point forward, the two became inseparable.

Y/N’s parents, however, were not super pleased that Y/N was seeing Paul, especially because they had warned her about the romantically-unattached musician’s mannerisms and habits not that long ago. They just decided to act like they liked Paul, so he wouldn’t get suspicious or feel bad.

Two members of The Yardbirds in particular (and I’m sure, dear reader, that you know who they are by now) were hit with pangs of jealousy whenever they saw Y/N constantly attached to Paul’s arm. And, to make matters worse, it was under any circumstance imaginable: parties, interviews, photoshoots, meetings, airports, train stations, hotels...the list goes on. Yes, they did spend plenty of time apart, but attraction can make a man think irrationally. Even though they were specifically and strictly told to keep their mouths shut, it was very tempting to just say the truth and end their misery. A part of Chris and Jim felt happy to see her happy, but another, traitorous side of them felt exponentially bad for her. They knew that she was being used by Paul as arm-candy, and they knew that she, of all people, did not deserve that.

But that’s the name of the game, unfortunately.

~~~~~~~~

18 February 1966

The Yardbirds were scheduled to perform on an episode of Ready, Steady, Go! that night, and Y/N decided to go and be a part of the live audience. She felt an obligation to support Paul and the band, since they were all friends (and a boyfriend, of course) now.

Before the show, Jim, Jeff, and Keith were all sitting on the stage, discussing the logistics of the rehearsals that would start soon. Y/N stood in front of the already-prepared stage and chatted with them.

“So what are you guys going to do on our days off next week?” Jeff asked.

“Spend time with my family,” Keith replied, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Not sure yet, haven’t figured it out,” Jim added.

“How ‘bout you, Miss Y/N?” Jeff nodded towards her with a smile. She answered with a soft giggle.

“I’m probably going golfing with my brother and a couple mates.”

“You golf?” Jim asked. She seemed to be getting more and more perfect by the day.

“Mmhmm,” Y/N nodded enthusiastically, “I’m bloody awful at it, but it’s fun, and I can hang out with my brother, so it’s a win-win.”

“You never told us you had siblings,” Keith smirked, tilting to the side and crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah, I have three. There’s Tommy, my older brother; Charlie, my younger brother; and Lillian, my little sister,” Y/N said.

“Wow, full house,” Jeff remarked, “I have a sister, Annetta, who I think you’d get along with quite well. I’ll have to introduce you to her soon.”

“Oh, that’d be great! I’d love to meet another Beck,” Y/N replied playfully. Jeff just laughed and shook his head.

“It’s a shame that I can’t spend time with Paul this week. He said he was busy, but he didn’t explain why,” Y/N sighed, “whatever. It’s probably legitimate, so I don’t mind. We’ve been hanging out too much anyway.” She laughed at the last part.

“He’s probably just going home to his wife,” Jim replied, thoughtlessly.

At that instant, everyone’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised, and lips downturned into a shocked, panicked frown.

“He’s...what?” Y/N asked quietly, sounding like she was about to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.

Y/N noticed that Keith and Jeff were glaring at Jim, who was clearly embarrassed at what he had revealed. He hid his eyes with his hand.

When Jeff finally found it in him to turn away from Jim, he deeply exhaled. He then reached out his hands to touch Y/N’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.

“Look, Y/N, you weren’t supposed to find out this way, and I’m so sorry we didn’t tell you sooner,” Jeff began, “but he is indeed married. I honestly don’t know why he wanted to pursue you, and I warned him against it because of how much we care about you, but he did it anyway.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face and her bottom lip started to quiver. “I can’t believe this,” she whispered, “he made it seem like I was the only one…that he was really in love with me...”

Jeff hated seeing his friend cry because of something he could have prevented. But, Y/N was somehow still beautiful when she cried.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jeff consoled gently, getting off the stage to hug her, “here, let’s take you backstage to calm you down a little.”

Y/N refused Jeff’s kind offer with a shake of the head. Through her blurry, teary-eyed vision, she just plastered on a smile, and wiped the wetness from her eyes.

“Ew,” her voice cracked, “why am I crying? That’s so gross of me, I’m so sorry. I’m definitely making you guys uncomfortable.”

The three musicians’ eyes widened at Y/N’s sudden burst of emotional strength.

“Y/N, you just found out you were Sam’s side chick, and you don’t care?” Jeff inquired, genuinely confused as to what was going on with Y/N’s emotions.

“It’s okay to be sad, love. And utterly fuming with anger. I must admit, this situation wouldn’t be as dire if it were someone else, but it’s you,” Keith added. Jim just sat in silence. He didn’t know what to say. His message destroyed Y/N’s heart and her innocence.

“I am sad, but if this ‘thing’ went on any longer, I’d probably be even more devastated. You saved me from a lot more unnecessary heartbreak, so thank you, Jim,” Y/N said. Her tone sounded completely numb.

“How are you gonna tell Sam?” Keith asked Y/N.

She exhaled deeply. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be fair of me to lash out on him before being on national television.”

“How can you care about fairness? Don’t you realize what this man has done to you?” Jeff asked, anger interlaced in his voice.

“Yes, Jeff. I do,” Y/N replied stoically, “And I’ll be fine, really. Let’s just forget about it, okay? I’m just lucky to be here, watching you perform. What song are you playing again?” Y/N tried to change the subject, but on the inside she was in deep agony and pain. She poured all of this time and emotion and her body into this cute musician boy, just to realize she didn’t matter.

“‘Shapes of Thi—’” Keith began quietly.

Jeff cut him off. “Y/N, I seriously refuse to believe you’re okay. Please, just let me help y—” he started.

“Jeff! I’m fine! Seriously,” Y/N raised her voice a little, annoyed at the nagging.

“But you seem—” Jim began, barely perceptible.

“Oh my God, Jim, I’m fine!” Y/N shouted. “I don’t care. It’s done, it’s over.”

The three men sat in silence after Y/N’s sudden outburst of anger, which was very out of character for her. She quickly realized what she had done.

“I’m so sorry for lashing out on you guys. That was uncalled for, it’s not your fault. I’m gonna go to the loo, excuse me,” she said quickly, walking out of the scene before anyone could call after her.

~~~~~~~~

Y/N stayed in the bathroom for all of rehearsals, and she finally reemerged right before the broadcast was about to start, looking as fresh as she did when she got there. It was as if the news was never even brought to her attention.

She refused to make eye contact with Paul through the entire performance, even though it was apparent that he tried to get her attention with his eyes. Chris was just confused that she wouldn’t even dare to glance at Paul. Just a little trouble in paradise that he didn’t know about maybe?

After the show and when the band went offstage, Jeff went back into the crowd to check on Y/N and brought her backstage.

“You have to confront him,” Jeff pleaded.

“I don’t want to,” Y/N whined.

“You have to, or else he’ll bloody win! You don’t want that, and I sure as hell don’t want that for you either! He is the one at fault. You have every right to fuck him up for it.”

Jeff’s little speech gave her an impulsive boost of confidence.

“Fine. I’ll do it. Get everyone out of the room, though,” Y/N stated firmly, beginning to march down the hallway behind Jeff.

Momentarily, Jeff went into the room and rounded up Keith, Jim, and Chris, and filed them down the hallway into another room orderly.

As Y/N was about to enter the room, Jeff whispered in her ear, “Good luck, kid. Knock ‘em dead.” Y/N smiled at Jeff before entering the room and closing the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~

Paul warmly smiled at Y/N as she entered the room.

“Hello, love,” he said gently, “how did you enjoy the show?”

Y/N painted on the most genuine smile she could force. “It was...almost perfect.”

Paul’s eyebrow quirked as he smiled in a confused way. “Why almost?”

“I don’t think rehearsals went as well as I had planned,” Y/N replied smoothly.

“Why? Did something bad happen to you? You’re speaking in riddles, dear.”

“Oh, I apologize,” Y/N snickered, “it’s actually so funny that you bring up riddles, because that seemed to be the exact problem at hand.”

“What does that mean? Did someone tell you something you couldn’t figure out?” Paul chuckled, “You’re confusing me.”

“I figured out that you would be going home to your wife next week.”

All the colour from Paul’s face was drained in a millisecond, and his originally jovial expression was gone. It was as if someone punched him in the gut.

“Who...who told you?” he asked, panicked.

Y/N was taken aback. “I find out I’m your side-chick and you have the audacity to ask who told me? Not an ‘I’m so sorry that I lied to you and broke your heart, Y/N’?”

Paul huffed. “And you expect me to just keep my composure when someone of your gravity walks into the room for the first time? I really am sorry, Y/N, I truly, truly am, but—”

Y/N’s calm and quiet demeanor had left the building at that point. She was mad. Really mad.

“But what? You tell me how in love you are with me, and how I’m your one and only forever, just to realize that I didn’t matter? I’m going to be eighteen years old in March. Eighteen. What do I know about love? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And you chose to take full advantage of my emotional vulnerability.”

“But you did matter. You’re so special to me, Y/N. Don’t you understand that?”

“Don’t you understand that you have a wife? You never loved me. I was never special to you. I was just another fling. But you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“The life of a travelling musician is extremely difficult, Y/N, and you don’t get that,” Paul said severely.

“And that shouldn’t be used as an excuse. You know what? We’re done. Whatever this ‘thing’ is, is over. I wish you the best,” Y/N concluded as she walked out the door and sternly shut it.

The nightmare was over and Y/N was a free agent.

Before she could debrief about her experience with any of the other Yardbirds, Y/N left the venue, caught the first taxi home, ran up into her room, and cried herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

22 April 1966

Y/N found recovery time and solace in those two months without Paul. She didn’t go to any Yardbirds gigs, but she sporadically met up with Jeff, Keith, Jim, and Chris at a pub or restaurant to catch up over a meal and drinks. Chris had recently mentioned to her that they were playing in London on the 22nd, and if she felt comfortable, she could attend for free and get backstage to hang out.

Y/N said she’d have to think about it, but she’d definitely consider it.

She had realized over the course of two months that she was not truly in love with Paul. Yes, she fancied him, but she must’ve mistaken the feeling of being genuinely in love with the person for being in love with the situation. Y/N concluded that this relationship was the equivalent of living out one’s childhood dreams of a romance with their schoolgirl crush.

She decided that she was retired from dating for a long time, especially because of how this shitshow ended, but a miniscule piece of her wondered when and how she’d meet her other half.

In the afternoon on the day of the show, which was to be played at the Wimbledon Palais, Y/N made the reckless decision to take a trip down to the Yardbirds’ hotel, but not for the reason you might expect.

Y/N never got the chance to thank Jim McCarty for coming clean about Paul’s infidelity to his wife by “dating” her, and to formally apologize for ripping him at the Ready, Steady, Go! rehearsals. She felt bad for being so dismissive of him, because he was always so nice to her and apparently seemed to care more about her wellbeing than Paul ever did.

Y/N stood on the platform of the train station anxiously, meticulously scheming in her mind about what she would say to Jim to truly and genuinely express her gratitude. She thought about how the encounter would go all the way to London, and all the way on her walk to the hotel.

When she arrived at the hotel, she greeted the concierge, and took the elevator to what she believed to be the Yardbirds’ floor. She took an educated guess as to which room Jim’s would be, just by what she had seen in past times. Y/N took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

When the door opened, she realized that in her best interest, her guess was correct.

“Hi,” she greeted breathily, her fingers interlaced together in front of her timidly.

“Hi,” Jim smiled. After a short moment of awkward silence, he continued, “Um, what are you doing here? Not that it’s a bad thing, which it’s not, but…” he trailed off.

“I just wanted to tell you something that I think needed to be said in-person,” Y/N said quickly.

Jim raised his eyebrows in surprised delight. “Oh, okay.” He moved out of the way of the doorframe so Y/N could enter the room, then shut the door gently behind her. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he chuckled, “make yourself at home.”

Y/N smiled and thanked him graciously, but shyly, as she sat down at a small couch at the edge of the bed. Jim was quick to follow her actions.

Y/N took a deep breath before beginning, “I just wanted to thank you for informing me about Paul in February. I know, it’s been a really long time since then… but I’ve needed some time to myself to think and refocus and recuperate, y’know?”

Jim just laughed. “You came all the way here to thank me? That’s so nice of you. You didn’t need to do that.”

Y/N grinned. “I don’t know, I felt this obligation for some reason. And in addition, I wanted to apologize for lashing out at you as well. I was just shell-shocked, I guess, and I unfairly took it out on you and Jeff.”

“If I forgave you then, I’ll still forgive you now,” Jim smiled, “don’t sweat it. In all honesty, I was surprised at how well you took the news.”

“I just wanted to be as calm and composed as possible,” Y/N blushed, “but obviously I didn’t get very far, did I?” Jim laughed at Y/N’s little jab at herself.

“Well, you’re so quiet, at least you showed a piece of your inner self that night,” Jim teased. Y/N just beamed at him.

“You know, since I owe you, now… I guess I just need to live a little, y’know? I have this introverted shell I need to break out of someday, and I might as well start now,” Y/N offered with a chuckle. “So, with that being said, let me do something for you. Anything you want.”

“Oh no, that’s too much. You didn’t even cause me any grief,” Jim retaliated playfully, “thank you, Y/N, but I think you’re overthinking this whole situation.”

“Please,” she continued with a pleading voice, “I feel awful, and plus, if it makes you feel better, you’ll be helping me clear my conscience. Jim, I’ll do anything you want, no matter how crazy… I’ll take you jet-skiing, I’ll ride on a bike in a bikini when the temperature is below freezing, I’ll clean your kitchen… anything you want me to do, I will do.”

Jim grinned at the bizarre options Y/N gave him before contemplating her invocation for a moment. Anything, huh?

“Kiss me.”

“You said you'd do anything, no matter how crazy, yes?” Y/N didn't get a chance to finish, as Jim interrupted her with a hand at her wrist, and a flinty look in his eyes, that gazed right into hers.

“I did.”

“Well,” Jim continued, stepping ever-closer to the young woman in front of him. She looked just as beautiful as she always had, if not more. Jim was convinced she was perfect, and wanted to protect her. To treat her right, the way she deserved. “You could get on your knees, in front of me.”

Kneeling down on the carpeted floor, Y/N looked up at him through her eyelashes, and the glint in her eyes made his knees weak. She looked almost shy, and he couldn't help but send a comforting smile her way.

“Have you done this before, Y/N?”

She shook her head at this, and looked down, almost embarrassed. Jim, heart pounding in his chest in anticipation, reached out a hand to lift her head. Her eyes held trust, and a hint of nervousness, but her lips quirk up in a smile, her cheeks flushing.

“I’ll walk you through it, love.” The sound of a belt clinking to the floor reached Y/N’s ears, zipper following suit, and she couldn’t help the way she almost thrummed with anticipation. Her parents had warned her against exactly this type of thing. Musicians were, according to her parents, a fickle breed, who only wanted her for her looks and body. It hurt to think of it now, when Jim was being nothing but a gentleman to her. She wanted to break out of her shell, and maybe this was the way to do it.

Y/N looks to Jim and sees him exposed, fully hard now, and her cheeks erupt into shades of rosy pink. He was big, much bigger than she would have expected, and she smiled up at him.

“Okay, love. Open your mouth.” Y/N opened her mouth, sinking it over his tip, which elicits a strained moan, full of pleasure. His hand landed in Y/N’s hair, fingers clenching gently around the tresses. The light tug Y/N felt only spurred her on.

“That’s incredible, princess. Now, try and circle your tongue. You’re doing so well.”

Y/N did as she’s told, and it’s like a spell was put over the man. He craned his head back, neck bared, as soft whimpers fell past his lips. Growing more confident, knowing now what he liked, she let her teeth rake over him lightly, which worked more moans from him, almost breathless in his euphoria.

With a murmured “fuck,” he comes, Y/N’s name the only thing on his lips. She slowly released him from her mouth, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she stood. Jim, leaning up against the wall, was in bliss, heaving breaths and ruffling Y/N’s hair as she approached.

“That was… you're perfect, princess. Absolutely perfect.”

Y/N laughs, smile nearly splitting her cheeks, and she pressed even closer, pressing her lips to his in a soft, content embrace. She could taste the sweat on his lips, and she couldn't help but think that she could definitely get used to this feeling.

Jim revelled in the feel of her soft lips against his, and he was struck by the thought that this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. He’s where he wants to be, beside Y/N.

————

Taglist: @blood-on-blood @reincarnated70sbaby

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Most Hated Characters

As y’all can see, this week’s T5F is a request sent in by anon. I picked it because I guess at the time I thought it would be fun to explore some of TWDG’s least popular, and most hated, characters while also taking into account characters that I can’t stand. 

These are characters that the vast majority of us don’t like or downright despise for many different reasons. None of us are going out of our ways to defend most of these bastards, and anyone who is I get the impression they’re doing so for the sake of being Different™... though while looking around for info about these characters and what people were saying about them, I did find myself in some odd places.... come across, eh... odd fanart. 

But I guess this is the part where I say this is all in good fun and if you happen to be a legit stan of any of these people, that’s cool. Maybe you can answer some of my questions as to why??

5. Nate 

Okay, when I said that I found myself in odd places, it turns out that Nate actually has a bit of a fanbase. It’s not big or anything, from what I can tell, but big enough for me to question why because I was under the impression that we all agreed that this dude sucks.

Seriously, I would’ve put him higher on this list if I hadn’t discovered this handful of people making fanart for him and claiming him as a comfort character. While I find that an odd choice, you do whatever makes you feel comforted, y’know? Just would like to understand why. 

As for the rest of us, he’s terrible. Every time I go back to 400 days, he’s someone I never look forward to seeing. I’ve even tried not getting in the truck with him while playing Russell’s story, but in true Telltale fashion, you’re forced to drive along with this creep. 

Red flags start going off when Russell’s sharing his story about his previous group, something you can tell left some trauma with him, and Nate is just weirdly fixated on the girl Russell liked. Like yeah okay dude, I get it, it’s the apocalypse and you haven’t had any action for a while but oh my god. 

Then the whole walker thing that almost gets Russell chomped is annoying. Oh, and how could I forget about how it’s implied that he attacked the old couple before and was there to finish them off, which he does no matter what and it’s not great. 

Hell, he even uses the line Russell gave him but it’s worse because crazy eyes. And if you don’t say anything, Nate murders them right there without a thought and then continues to be a real creep. Fuck this guy. 

As the wise Eddie once said, “I don’t what that guy in my life, man!” 

4. The Stranger

Hey, have I ever mentioned how much this dude sucks? 

I don’t even have to tell you why he’s on this list. We all know the obvious reasons-- manipulated and kidnapped Clementine, which caused Lee to get bit by a walker and fucking die. No one here is white-knighting for this dipshit. 

Sure, it sucks what the Stranger went through. He lost his family and that would be enough to drive anyone up the wall. I mean, just look at Kenny. But this dude, okay. Look. Listen. I can only feel so bad for you when you lost your son on a hunting trip that your wife told you not to go on, then when you went looking for him, you literally left the car unlocked and running for anyone to come across. Then you come back and gasp. So your wife leaves you for being a moron... then when you find her dead, you cut off her head and keep it like a damn bowling ball because...??

At least that’s what I get from it. The writers probably should’ve done a better job with explaining what the hell happened but y’know. 

That’s not the only reason no one likes this guy. Oh no, you also add to the pile that the Stranger himself is dull. As a character, the dude is just.... boring. And I get that’s probably what they were going for with the whole “I’m just a guy, but you ruined my life and made me this way.” 

However, when you set him up the way you did with the talks over the walkie and the stalking, I was expecting a bit more personality outta this loaf of soggy bread. But no... boring yet crazy. Interesting combo and I’m afraid it doesn’t work. 

3. Larry

Larry?? On a list of most hated characters?? Nooo...

Yeah, surprise. Larry also sucks. Stop the presses. 

Larry is a pain in the ass to deal with for two episodes, constantly belittling the people around him and treating his daughter like shit. Oh, and don’t forget how he behaves towards Lee even if you try to be as nice as possible. Nope, he doesn’t care, he still thinks Lee is garbage and will continue threatening to reveal Lee’s secret to the group. Who cares if that could fuck up the dynamic and endanger the group? Larry sure doesn’t. 

Until the very end, this dude is just a splinter in the foot. By the time you get to the meat locker and he has a heart attack, you’re not gonna save him because you think he’ll be better if he survives. No, you’re attempting to save him for Lilly and Clementine’s sake, and if you don’t even care about that, you siding with Mr. Family Man to smash his head in. 

Not only is he a soiled diaper, he also don’t have much personality outside of asshole. He has maybe two moments where he’s shown to be just a bit chill? I mean, Lilly tells us that he has a lot of pain and that’s why he’s like this.... but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. 

Oh, and can’t forget that apparently he was obsessed with Lilly leaving the lights on so he let the power get cut, so Lilly couldn’t eat ice cream and had to let her hair air dry like a heathen. Unforgivable. 

So yeah, fuck Larry. 

2. Troy

Ugh, Troy. Fuck this guy. 

No really, out of all TWDG characters, this dude and my #1 pick are my most hated. Can’t stand Troy and the only reason I didn’t do a tie for #1 is because for a split second, Troy does show a tiny bit of humanity when Carver is beating down Carver, but blink and you’ll miss it.

Which had me a little concerned to find a handful of posts about having crushes on Troy and drawing fanart but.... again, I guess you do you? And if you can, please explain why because I honestly don’t understand. 

Just looking at the screenshot of him annoys him. He’s got one of those punchable faces, y’know? 

Anyway, when playing as Clementine, I’m always worried that he’s gonna pop up outta no where and grab her by the neck like he does later in ep3, even though I’ve played s2 a bunch to know that he’s not going to. 

But hell, he doesn’t need any excuse to smack anyone around, and there are a handful of times he can really hurt Clem depending on her choices. 

Not great, dude. 

Can’t say I’m too sorry that Jane shot your dick off. 

1. Badger

Yeah, you guys remember Badger. Y’know.... the man who murdered Mariana then laughed about it, claiming that he enjoyed watching her head explode and would do it again and again if he could? 

That’s what puts him at #1. He may not have the most screen time like Larry or Troy, but when he is around, he’s fucking awful.

He gets joy from killing Mariana, like it’s some sort of sick thrill for him to go around murdering children and other innocent people. 

Remember Francine? Caught her and used her as bait to try and get Javi to come down, and even went as far as to have some fingers cut off. Like, he gets off on destroying people, entire communities.

Shit, he seems to even get off to his own beat down. 

He’s fucking gross and outta everyone on this list, I haven’t found a single person being like “Yeah, he’s garbage but I like him kinda?” like no, you’re such garbage that even the Different™ crowd don’t want you. 

Fuck Badger. 

By the way, if you’ve never had Conrad kill him in your game, I suggest looking it up. It’s pretty good. Gives Conrad a little bit of closure after what happened to Francine, as well as give Javi some closure for Mari’s murder. 

Not a single soul wept for you, Badger. 

---

Dishonorable Mentions

-Joan. She’s boring, forgettable, and no one is out here gushing over her because most of the time, we can’t even remember her name. -Danny from Vince’s story in 400 Days. Y’know, the dude going to prison because he was convicted of SA. I’ll never understand why people go with him over Justin. Justin sucks, too, but not the same level Danny does.  -Lilly in S4. Ugh. That’s a whole other topic for another day. -Arvo, though I guess he has a bit of a following, too

---

Well there ya go. Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices for this list? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F Top 5 BROTPs

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

New World CH. Three

Title: The Barn

Words: 1,887

Warnings: Strong language, canon-typical violence, SOFT Daryl

A/N: Chapter three is here! Hope y’all enjoy!

If you’d like to request something, send me an ask. I’d love to write for you!

If you’d like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

Walking Dead Masterlist

Masterlist 

~~~~~~~

[Y/n]

Once Sam and Rick got back from talking to Hershel, you started talking about where to look for supplies.

 “Where have you looked so far?” You asked.

 “All over this area here. Maggie says the town has basically been picked clean but there are other houses and farms we can search too,” Rick said.

 “Are you going with us?” Andrea asked.

 “I’d like to.”

 “Rick,” Hershel said, approaching you.

 “Hershel. We just have our guns out because we’re planning on going on a run,” Rick said.

 “Before you do that, I could use your help with something. Sam too. Shouldn’t take more than an hour, maybe two.”

 “Count me in,” Andrea said.

 “Just Sam and Rick. But thank you.”

 “I’ll be down at the barn, keeping watch until you’re ready,” Andrea said.

 “I’ll keep looking at the map. See if there’s anywhere else we can look,” you said to Rick.

 “Don’t go wandering off,” Sam said to you.

 “Don’t worry. I won’t.” You bent over the map again after kissing Sam’s cheek.

 ---

Sam

 Sam and Rick followed Hershel and Jimmy through the woods and to a little bog. Two walkers were stuck in the water and Sam frowned as he walked up.

 “That’s Lou Bush,” Hershel said.

 “You knew him?”

 “Lou as in Louise. She has a farm just up the road and grew sweet corn mostly. Worked at the bar in town on the weekends. The man I don’t know, but I recognize the coveralls he’s wearing. I’ve been to where he worked.” Hershel looked at Rick and Sam. “How many have you killed?”

 “Too many to count,” Rick said.

 “Me too,” Sam said when Hershel looked at him.

 “Could you stop?”

 Rick and Sam shared a look, Rick making eye contact with Hershel after. It was clear that both the men were hesitant in saying something and Hershel knew it.

 “There are people out there who haven’t been in their right minds. I think that they can be restored.”

 “You’re not talking about the walkers, are you?” Rick asked. Jimmy handed Hershel a snare pole, getting it ready.

 “It doesn’t matter if you don’t think the same or if you even see them as human beings anymore. But if you and your people are going to stay here, that’s how you’re gonna have to treat them. My farm, my barn, my say.”

 Hershel handed Rick the pole and after glancing at Sam, Rick took it.

 ---

[Y/n]

It had been a few hours and the two of them still hadn’t gotten back from the errand with Hershel. You were getting a little worried and was pacing around the porch. Adeline and Sophia were sitting with Carl and Beth, Beth playing a game of chess against Patricia. Andrea, Dean, and T-Dog were walking up from the barn. Looking up when you heard them, your brow furrowed.

 “What’s going on?” T-Dog asked. “Where is everyone?”

 “You haven’t seen Sam or Rick?” You said, worry in your voice.

 “They’re still somewhere with Hershel. We were supposed to leave hours ago,” Andrea said.

 “Yeah ya were. What the hell?” Daryl said, coming up to the house, Carol in tow.

 “He said they’d be back soon, two hours at most. It’s been almost four.” You were chewing on your lip and Carol rubbed your back soothingly.

 “Fuck!” Daryl said. He was upset and when he looked out towards the field, he spotted Shane. “Oh here we go.”

 You looked up too and saw that Shane had the gun bag in his hands.

 “What’s all this?” Daryl asked.

 “You with me, man?” Shane said. Daryl nodded and took the rifle Shane handed him.

 “Time to grow up.”

 “What’s going on?” You asked.

 “I thought we couldn’t carry?” T-Dog said.

 “We can and we will. It was one thing sitting around, picking flowers when we thought this place was safe. But it’s not.” Shane looked at Glenn. “How ‘bout you? You gonna protect yours?”

 Glenn took the gun with a nod and Shane turned to Maggie.

 “Can you shoot?”

 “Can you stop? You do this, my dad will make you leave tonight.”

 “We have to stay, Shane,” Carl said. Lori came bounding around the corner of the porch and you made eye contact with her. You shrugged your shoulders, just as confused as she was.

 “We ain’t goin’ anywhere. Now, Hershel, he’s just gotta understand. He- He’s gonna have to.” Shane knelt down in front of Carl and held out a gun. “I want you to take this. You take it and keep your mother and the girls safe. Do whatever it takes.”

 “What the fuck are you thinking?” Lori seethed, grabbing the pistol and getting in between Carl and Shane. “You can’t just give a gun to a twelve year old! And Rick said no guns. This is not your call! This is not your decision to make.”

 You were looking between Lori and Shane before T-Dog said something.

 “Oh shit.”

 Looking where he was, you saw your brother, Rick, Hershel, and Jimmy leading two walkers towards the barn. Shane took off running, you and everyone else close behind.

 “Shane!” You yelled. You were hot on his heels, trying to catch him before he did anything stupid.

 “What the hell are you doing?” Shane yelled as he crashed through the gate.

 “Shane, back off!”

 “Why do they have guns?” Hershel asked Rick.

 “You’re kidding me! You see what they’re holding onto?” Shane was in an angered frenzy.

 “I see who I’m holding onto.”

 “No, man, you don’t.”

 “Shane, just let us do this then we can talk,” Sam said, raising his hands.

 “What is there to talk about, man? These things aren’t sick and they’re not people. They’re dead! Ain’t gotta feel nothing for ‘em ‘cause all they do is fucking kill!” Shane was basically frothing at the mouth and you put your hand on the gun in your waistband. Looking behind you, you saw Lori had a hold of both Adeline and Carl.

 “They killed Amy! They killed Otis! And they gonna kill all of us.”

 “Calm down, Shane!” You said. One of the walkers got a little close to you and you pulled out your gun, pointing it at the walker.

 “Hershel, lemme ask you something. Could a living, breathing person survive something like this?” Shane cocked his gun and proceeded to shoot one of the walkers in the chest.

 “Shane, stop!” Rick yelled.

 “That’s three rounds to the chest. Could someone who’s alive take that? How is it still fucking standing?” He shot again, and again, before shooting it in the head.

 “Enough risking our lives for a ‘safe place to live’! Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to fucking kill us! Enough!” Shane walked closer to the barn and turned to Rick. “Rick, it ain’t like it was before! If y’all want to live, to survive, you have to fight for it! Right here, right now!”

 Shane ran to the barn and cut the chain holding it shut. Rick was begging Hershel to take the snare-pole, but he was still on his knees on the ground. He seemed to be in shock. Everyone was yelling at Shane to stop, but you knew he wouldn’t listen. When Shane threw away the last thing holding the walkers back, you readied your gun, standing next to Daryl and Dean.

 When they started walking out, you started shooting them down. Even though you knew this was the wrong way to go about it, you wouldn’t let anything hurt your family. Behind you, you could hear Maggie and Beth sobbing. You felt bad for killing their family a second time, but if you had to do it to make sure your daughter stayed alive you would do it again in a heartbeat.

 After the final shot rang through the air, you heard Beth let out a sob as you approached Lori to grab a crying Adeline from her.

 Beth had managed to get out of Jimmy’s arms and had ran to her mother. You heard voices tell her not to go near them, but she ignored them all. Crying, Beth turned her mother over and knelt by her head. She wasn’t dead yet and Beth screamed, trying to get away. The walker had her by the hair and everyone went to save her. Andrea stabbed it in the head and Beth was safe in her father’s arms.

 “I can’t believe Shane did that,” you muttered to Dean while you calmed down Ada. “It could’ve been handled differently.”

 “You’re right. But what’s done is done. You should get some rest.”

 “Can’t. Need to make sure Adeline’s okay.” You looked at your big brother. “I’m worried about the kids growing up in this new world. Ada already would’ve grown up with carnage around her, but Carl, Sophia, and Beth shouldn’t have. This isn’t a good world for children to grow up in.

 “It’s not. But what can we do?”

 “They need to be able to act like a normal kids. Their childhoods are being stripped away and I feel helpless in knowing there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 Shaking your head, you walked off towards the house as your brother watched you go, worry in his eyes.

 ---

 Later that day, you had a small funeral for Annette and Shawn. You had helped dig the graves and when it was time, you had the service.

 At the funeral, you stood in by your brothers, hand held tightly by Sam. Adeline was in your arms, head tucked into the crook of your neck. When it was over, everyone went their separate ways. Adeline stayed with Carol and Sophia, and you found yourself walking to Daryl. He had started setting up his camp away from everyone else and you couldn’t say you blamed him. Things were getting hectic and you found peace in the quiet away from everyone. You sat down next to him and the silence was broken after a few minutes.

 “Thank you,” you said softly. Daryl looked at you.

 “For what?”

 “Bringing me back to my family. I really appreciate it.” The atmosphere was slightly awkward, but you looked at him nonetheless.

 “It was nothin’.”

 “But it was something. I’m practically just a stranger to you but you helped me out anyways. So, thank you.” Hesitating slightly, you kissed his cheek and stood up. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

 As you started walking away, he grabbed your wrist. Stopping abruptly, you looked back at him. Daryl stood up and cupped your cheek. Eyes fluttering shut, you basked in the softness of his touch. He got closer to you and he kissed your cheek softly.

 “The same ta ya.” With that, Daryl walked away and you knew the conversation was over. Smiling to yourself, you walked back to the house and about half way there, you saw Lori running towards you.

 “Daryl over there?” She asked you.

 “Yes, why?”

 “Beth collapsed from shock and Hershel’s missing. Rick took Dean and Glenn to go get him but they’re not back yet.”

 “Beth in the house?”

 “Yes.”

 “I’ll go see what I can do to help.”

 “Thank you, hun. Now I gotta see if Daryl will go out to find them.”

 “Alright. Good luck.”

[yakocchi]

My Darling’s the Strongest (Scenario Event) // Leonardo

(graphic is separate from the event)

me: wow i wonder what cool and amazing new content there will be for white day week cybird: we heard from no one that u like reprints that only have new ranking avatars. so heres another reprint that only has new ranking avatars me:

…….cybird it’s ok to not make every event have ranking cards. yea i know they make gangbusters versus events without cards, but if it results in less new scenario events overall… that’s not great

anyway, it’s been like 4 months since a new Count scenario event has been released (which is a better track record than several charas) and i wanted to do a longer string of text to test out a keyboard i ordered. yea im very fickle with my output but ehehe what’s new i archive leo events sometimes, so i decided to dredge one up to translate. i actually wanted to do vlad’s first post-main-route event as a sort of celebration for when it would inevitably happen, but then said scenario event appeared and it ended up being an AU. why does this game like AUs so much? the canon universe already pretty farfetched… u literally have dracula and ure telling me u would rather put him in a situation where he would not be dracula. cowards

This event (first released ~July 2020) was made for the 3rd Anniversary of JP Ikevam later that month. The event was split into two parts, where iirc the first part contained the Count, Arthur, and Mozart. Leo was in the second part with Napo and Isaac.

Spoilers under the cut!! Please credit if you take any of it, thenk u (･ω･*) image-heavy!!

…

The master of the manse, from time to time, starts his conversations with the most unexpected topics. One of those “times”, was today.

...

[Count]: “—So, I’d like the two of you to go out for the Best Couples’ Contest.” [Leonardo & Kara]: “Huh…?” As soon as we had excused ourselves into his quarters, the Count had said something completely unexpected. Leonardo and I had responded with a confused noise spilling out of our lips. (The “Best Couples’ Contest” is that event where they pick the best couple in Paris, right?) (I wonder why he suddenly decided to say he wants us to go.) Even as the two of us stood bewildered in front of him, the Count’s smile remained, untarnished. Leonardo then heaved a massive sigh…

[Leonardo]: “Now, I’m used to you telling me crazy things—" [Leonardo]: “But at the very least, could you give us the entire story, O’ great Count?” The Count began to speak once more—

[Count]: “Well—” [Count]: “Last night, I had visited an acquaintance upon them telling me that they had gotten their hands on some good wine.” [Count]: “At one point, they informed me that they were going to hold a contest to determine the best couple.” [Count]: “Then, they asked me if I was acquainted with any prospective couples for it.” Leonardo then took over from Count as if he had read this story before.

[Leonardo]: “Then, in your drunken state you selfishly entered me and the little sweetheart to the contest, did you?” (And that means… the Count thinks me and Leonardo would have a chance?)

The Count responded to Leonardo’s summation of the events with apparent amusement. [Count]: “I do believe I wasn’t drunk at the time, I’ll have you know?” [Leonardo]: “That’s even worse, then.”

[Count]: “Oh my, Leonardo. Is it really all right for you to say that?” [Leonardo]: “Hah?” [Kara]: “gh-…” The Count had turned in my direction— and so Leonardo, as if in pursuit of the gentleman, then turned to face me as well. Their gazes seemed to urge me to confess my true feelings on the matter, and I earnestly comply.

[Kara]: “Ah-, I… I just thought it sounded fun.” [Kara]: “And on top of that, I’d be really happy if everyone acknowledged me and Leonardo as the best couple.” (Even though I’d be nervous to stand in front of so many people,) (I’d be able to boast that such a wonderful person is my lover…) (And I also think it’d be a good opportunity to see if I’m able to become a suitable woman for Leonardo.)

[Leonardo]: “…” A surprised expression appeared on Leonardo’s face for a moment, before it was replaced with a smile…

[Leonardo]: “Shall we partake?” [Kara]: “Huh? Is it okay?” I had blurted out my question, and Leonardo gently patted my head. [Leonardo]: “This situation’s turned into nothing but a good opportunity, so we might as well have some fun and aim to win this thing, yeah?” [Kara]: “gh- Okay…!” Glad that Leonardo was also interested, my voice naturally gained a bounce to it.

[Kara]: “But, I wonder how they’re going to determine the best couple?” Muttering this, the Count then handed me the invitation, which had a general outline of the event written inside. Promptly opening it, written was—

(The contest is to be a few days from now, and I can look forward to what we’ll be tested on… on the day itself?) The portion I wanted to know about most of all hadn’t been written, and I internally slumped my shoulders.   The invitation concluded with a single line— “The key to victory is to have a mind and soul of love towards one another,” (I guess the ‘mind and soul of love’ is supposed to be a hint, but…) [Kara]: “Hmm… With just this, I don’t know what the contest could be about, at all.” [Leonardo]: “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.” (Huh?) Leonardo brought his face up close to the Count… And as if he had devised a scheme, a mischievous smile had turned the corners of his lips. [Leonardo]: “You’re close with the contest organizer, right? I’m led to believe that they have some sort of hint on ‘em.” [Count]: “Leonardo…?” [Leonardo]: “We may have willingly chose to participate in the contest— but it doesn’t change the reality that it was our lovely Count who dragged us into this in the first place.” [Leonardo]: “So, naturally, you’re gonna cooperate with us, no?”

As a result of forcing the Count (against his will) to spill the details, we were able to make a guess on what we’d be doing in the contest. But…

most everyone else in this event: (thinking hard on what to do bc they dont kno what the contest is going to cover) leo: fuc it CHEAT

…

[Leonardo]: “…” (…Leonardo has an awfully complicated look on his face right now.) In my mind, I think over our discussion from a moment ago:

The organizer of the couples’ contest appears to have hosted several dance contests as well. To put it plainly, the organizer is both a huge socialite and a huge fan of dances. (So, individuals are called from high society circles to be chosen as the “best couple”, and) (The probability of competing based on our dancing… is high.)

[Leonardo]: “Hagh…” [Kara]: “…Hehe.” Seeing Leonardo’s pouting face, I unwittingly laughed. Then— [Leonardo]: “What are you laughing for, sweetheart?”

[Kara]: “I just remembered something from back before we became lovers.” The conversation of that day, the day where a weakness of his had been exposed, replayed in my head—

…

[Leonardo]: “…I can’t dance.” (Huh…?) [Kara]: “You’ve got to be kidding, right…? You can build and play instruments, and yet…” [Kara]: “Is it because you don’t go to many socialite parties to begin with, so you haven’t had many opportunities to dance….?” [Leonardo]: “No, I’ve participated in ‘em the point where I’ve even had a hand in producing those sorts of dazzling venues.” [Kara]: “’Producing’…” (This person really can do anything and everything. No, no, that’s not true…) [Kara]: “Leonardo, the mystery that surrounds you is only getting deeper and deeper.”

[Leonardo]: “I avoided having to do it.” [Kara]: “…’Avoid’?” [Leonardo]: “…Try to imagine it. Me, dancing?” [Leonardo]: “It doesn’t suit me, I don’t have the look required for it…” (…What… is this?)

[Kara]: “…Hehe, ahaha!” [Leonardo]: “…Hey, sweetheart. What are you laughing for?

…

(He said the same thing back then.) Unable to hold it in, I continued to giggle… [Leonardo]: “Don’t laugh.” [Kara]: “I think you’re the one smiling here, though?” [Leonardo]: “…I’m just feeling terribly nostalgic right now.” Answering me, his eyes held a gentle light within them as if cherishing those days, [Kara]: “You still hate dancing, I assume?” [Leonardo]: “Even to this day, I find it embarrassing to do. Radiant, cheerful stuff doesn’t mesh with me. But—" (Huh?)

The second I wondered if Leonardo was going to start something, he suddenly pulled my waist towards him for an embrace… [Kara]: “Woah, woah-…!” Regaining my senses— Led by Leonardo himself, I properly danced. [Leonardo]: “I’m able to dance like the average person now— and it’s all because you came to keep me company.” While I was still surprised, Leonardo dropped a light kiss on my forehead. [Kara]: “Nn-…” Flustered, I looked up to find a completely composed smile on his face… [Kara]: “…ngh-“ An impulse overwhelming me, I lean my head against his chest.

[Kara]: “…Sly as usual.” [Leonardo]: “Hm?” [Kara]: “Even though I thought I had finally found a weakness of yours, you’ll get over that hurdle too pretty soon.” [Kara]: “When you do things like that, you become sly so smoothly, exquisitely.”

(When he shows this side of him… I get driven to work even harder than before so I can catch up to him.) While even feeling a frustration from it, I turned my gaze back to Leonardo.

[Kara]: “It seems like this world is going to become one where there’s absolutely nothing you can’t do.”

[Leonardo]: “…Maybe?” (…Hm?) For a second it felt as if he were pondering over something, a particular emotion washing over his face.

But before I could say anything, I was swiftly embraced, and that thought of mine scattered, and vanished. [Kara]: “l- Leonardo?” [Leonardo]: “Hey, look there, sweetheart.” (Huh?)

Following Leonardo’s gaze— I could see the dusk dying the sky from a distance away. (Pretty…) The view that he showed me, was beautiful.   But, at the same time… my chest was tightened by this sorrow. (Although the scene before our eyes is the same between us, time passes differently between us…) (During moments like this, I feel that difference.) (However— When we became lovers, I had decided that no matter how different we are, I’m going to embrace the present, make the most out of it.) (I’m going to savor even the passing seconds, cherish them… as we live together, as two.)

As if to confirm he was really there, I embraced his warmth in return… [Kara]: “Leonardo, I’m looking forward to the contest.” [Leonardo]: “Mhm.” In the vivid sunset, we smiled to each other.

…

—Time passed, and the night of the contest arrived at last.

…

(W-Wow…) When we had entered the venue in our formalwear, there were several couples eagerly waiting for the contest to start. (All of the people here have to be participants for the contest, huh. …Somehow, my heart’s pounding.) I took a deep breath to calm myself down, and when I did that— Leonardo, as if to soothe my heart, lightly stroked my hair. [Leonardo]: “Why is it necessary for you to feel all anxious?” [Kara]: “Leonardo?” [Leonardo]: “To the point where there’s just no way we can lose to any couple here— I love you, you know.”

[Leonardo]: “—Well, and you?” Inquiring me, his smile was brimming with self-confidence… And caught up in his mood, I smiled cheerfully.

[Kara]: “I love you too— to the point where it’s impossible for us lose to anyone…!”

[Leonardo]: “Heh… Very nice, then.” [Judge]: “—And so, the contest shall begin now. The means of competition is to be by dance.” (Ah-…!) We look to each other, and Leonardo, extending his hand towards me, says, [Leonardo]: “Kara… You’ll do me the honor of a dance, no…?”

PREMIUM END

[Kara]: “Yes, I’d be delighted!” (Even though I was so nervous about this until now… Now, I can’t help but just be excited about it.) (I want everyone to quickly feast their eyes on our dancing, and our bond!) Taking his hand, I nestled close to him as an elegant melody began to echo within the dance hall. To become a flower that offsets the man before me, I step forward—

…

—When the contest had ended without a hitch, the both of us walked along the moonlit Seine as we made our way home. The chilly breeze felt pleasant on my heated skin. [Kara]: “We really were able to win!” (I was able to prove my bond with Leonardo to all of Paris… I’m so happy that I can’t stop a smile from showing on my face.) [Leonardo]: “I did say we wouldn’t lose to anyone, didn’t I?” [Leonardo]: “But, well, to think… the winning prize was a year’s supply of wine of all things. ‘Guess sensuality and allure are as good as goddamn useless to them.”

he’s trying to say that he doesn’t like the prize cuz it isn’t very sensual/sexy (suppose he imagined a prize for a lovers’ contest would be more along those lines). even Arthur in the epilogue is like “…thought the prize for a best couples’ contest would be more special”….

[Kara]: Hehe, it’s a nice prize, isn’t it? Let’s drink it with everyone else in the manse.” [Leonardo]: “If you’re satisfied with it, that’s good, I suppose.” As he spoke, Leonardo looked to be the same as usual, but his eyes reflected some kind of joy from within. (I’m glad that this will become a lovely memory I’ll have about him.) (…But, even then) The very sight of Leonardo of when I had danced with him in the dance hall, wouldn’t leave my head. [Kara]: “Your dancing was really, really stunning.” [Kara]: “As I had always thought… you’re the strongest one around.” [Leonardo]: “What’s all this about, hmm?”

i probably should’ve bothered explaining it last year since i used the title “My Darling’s the Strongest” for the other translation but uh might as well do it now that it’s explicitly used in the story so by “strongest”, it doesn’t necessarily mean physical strength (though it can be). It’s “strongest” as in a form of “mightiest” or “most powerful”, kind of like when someone says “my baseball team is the strongest in the league”,

[Kara]: “I just think that you’re the mightiest lover as there’s nothing you can’t do.” Carried away by the thrill of victory, I professed my thoughts. In doing so Leonardo’s brows lowered, and a bit of a troubled smile graced his lips. [Leonardo]: “If I’m able to put some effort into it, then I guess there’s really nothing I can’t do. But…”

[Leonardo]: “There is something I simply cannot do, no matter how hard I try.” (Huh…?) [Kara]: “Something you can’t do… I can’t imagine such a thing existing.” He was undoubtedly an almighty genius, and was also the type of person willing to confront even his awkward dancing skills head-on.

At my murmurs, Leonardo continued as if the topic was no big deal.

[Leonardo]: “It exists.” [Leonardo]: “I cannot become an ordinary human.”

(gh-…) His words had vanished into the night breeze.

I inadvertently stopped in my tracks, and he stopped as well… and the both of us stood still in that one corner.

In my current view, the moonlight illuminated his figure as he stood before me. [Leonardo]: “As a pureblood vampire,” [Leonardo]: “I give you much loneliness— A loneliness that, if I were an ordinary human, you would never have to experience.” [Leonardo]: “However, if I went and lamented over every single little detail of that truth, I would be rendered unable to be with you. —Thus from the very beginning, I do not intend to lament either.” [Leonardo]: “I’m going to use as much of my power as I possibly can to grant your wishes, and that’s all.” (Using his power, my wishes…) I recalled the exchange we had a few days ago:

…

[Kara]: “Ah-, I… I just thought it sounded fun.” [Kara]: “And on top of that, I’d be really happy if everyone acknowledged me and Leonardo as the best couple.” [Leonardo]: “…”

…

[Kara]: “Did… you say that we should go and try to win the contest… merely because I…” With a smile, Leonardo proceeded to stare intently at me. [Leonardo]: “Well, there’s that, but additionally… I had the same motive as you had.” [Leonardo]: “I also had wanted the both of us to be acknowledged as the best couple.” [Leonardo]: “I wanted news to spread that I had been able to become the man of such a wonderful woman, you know.”   (gh- Leonardo…) Leonardo, whenever and wherever, envelops me in his great, unparalleled affection. Roused by the surging love within me, I went to grip his hand.

[Kara]: “…Leonardo, I want to be by your side tonight, and all night.” (I want to give him, in return for the love I received from him… those same feelings, that same love.) (I want him… to feel my love as well.)

[Leonardo]: “…” [Kara]: “gh- Ah-!” I was suddenly yanked towards him; and almost stumbling over my feet, it had closed the distance between us. Bringing his lips to my ear, he whispered:

[Leonardo]: “What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same thing.”

…

—As soon as we entered his room, we melded, deeply kissing each other. [Leonardo]: “…Hah-, Kara…” He called my name with a wet, heady timbre between kisses, the sensuality of it making me go lightheaded. Crowded atop the bed, he pried my lips open with his finger… [Leonardo]: “Thinking about it, I haven’t received a reward from you yet.” [Kara]: “’Reward’…?” [Leonardo]: “When I’m feeling, touching you like this… I know that you’re not so dumb to be oblivious to what I want?” [Kara]: “ngh-…” Taking a guess on what he desired from me, I slowly brought my face closer to his.

[Leonardo]: “Good girl. Come on— Try to turn me on with a kiss?”

FIN

yes the event really stops here before the epilogue teaser. cybird when a sexi scene is about to start:

since this was a glorified keyboard test, this is mostly a one-off… so don’t expect leo translations from me otherwise ahah

u know, it’s always weird to me that leo’s stuff is always very sorrowful bc of the vast diff in lifespan, humans vs. vampires thing. like, does he not plan to turn her into a vampire? the wedding stuff makes it sound like they’d like to be together forever but they still don’t really like to broach the topic itself……… kinda sus given that the Count’s stuff gets several mentions of biting in events and vlad clearly doesn’t mind biting whenever (and is just waiting for her to give him the go-ahead). ive seen some ppl talk about how maybe leo likes her because she’s human (both as in being a literal human and the figurative idea of being “human”) and honestly……… it is kinda messed up to think about, but i can see it LOL now im not saying the other pureblood x mc relationships are super healthy but that’s a convo for another time

well at least these guys don’t have to ask someone for vampire-turning assistance. im imagining one of the other charas having to ask the Count to bite mc akin to how teenagers have to ask their parents to drive them and their friends around to do stuff…….. who wants to relive that nightmare

also sorry if like leo’s voice doesn’t match up with w/e the official engl localization does. ive literally never played an engl cybird game in my life, so it’s a crime of ignorance i swear. tho imo if they’re not making him sound like a rascal… that’s very lame, im not gonna lie

the epilogue is obviously not available for purchase rn, but please buy it and/or support the game with purchases when you can!!

As always, thanks for reading!

(gif source)

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: Another day of side-effects where my head really hasn’t been in the game. But a little fun stuff to pass the time has managed to crop up. 

So sorry for the tease ending... I blame the headaches.

Chapter 27

  The Chef, Greg, had personally brought you extra leftovers during the five weeks you were living in the cell, training and learning about your abilities. He knew about your abnormal energy-consumption, and had become concerned when you never ordered more than a double portion of food, no matter how exhausted you were.   So, he’d come to give you the leftovers one evening, and you’d explained that it felt like you’d be stealing from others that might need it, if you ordered six or even eight portions.   After that, he’d begun saving all the leftovers every day, and bringing you that for the extra portions you otherwise wouldn’t have ordered.

  “I may have to make Greg my Best Man.”

  “He’d probably decline. He’s nice, but he does have standards.”

  “Ouch…”

  “He doesn’t know you, Cujo.”

  “Okay, seriously, what is up with that?”

  “It’s just an accurate description.”

  “I am not a fucking dog.”

  “Yes, you are. It’s just that, ordinarily, you’re a puppy. You just have that lovable puppy-face, with the eyes and the grin that can melt the coldest of hearts. And then, you bare your teeth and growl, and you look fucking terrifying.”

  “I do?”

  “Um – yes. Unequivocally – yes. It’s amazing.”

  “Wait… you like my Cujo-quality?”

  “I like that you have that side, when you need it. I like that it comes out almost exclusively to protect the things you love. And I have to admit that I like the fact that even the remotest possibility that William actually had tried something, elicited that kind of a response from you.”

  “I was a little shocked at how strongly I reacted to that. Just the thought… I would’ve killed him, if he had. Not because you… belong to me. But because you were weak and unable to stop anyone that might have tried. Thank god William’s even more of a puppy than I am.”

  “Will is more of a Greyhound.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, you know – sleek, effective, streamlined.”

  “Okay, let’s just drop the whole dog-topic already.”

  “And, just for the record – of course I belong to you. Ass-hat.”

  He practically beamed at you.

  “Ditto. Mama bear.”

  You’d been talking while walking back from lunch, and when you got back to your office, Anita was there. Just standing in the middle of the room, with her signature scowl in full effect.

  “Hi, mom. Wow, you’re actually in the office, it must be serious.”

  “Fifty noise-complaints in the last hour – is serious.”

  You both stopped smiling, and threw a nervous glance at one another, but she just huffed and turned to you.

  “Have you had yourself checked out by medical, yet?”

  “No… why would I…?”

  “Because human beings don’t possess the biological imperative to breed, to the point where their libidos take control of their bodies.”

  You had actually checked both your offices for cameras and microphones a good while back, and found nothing. And there weren’t any fucking flowers in your office!

  “How the hell do you know that? Seriously… How?”

  She just rolled her eyes.

  “Get your ass down to medical. Now.”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Whatever it is, I feel fine now, which means they probably wouldn’t be able to detect anything abnormal, so I’m gonna finish my work for the day, and then I’ll go to medical.”

  You walked over to your desk as you spoke, and as you sat down, you remembered something.

  “And by the way, where you in charge of selecting my substitute while I was gone?”

  “Yes. Petra wasn’t ideal.”

  “You don’t say. If I’m ever gone for an extended period of time again, no one sets foot in my fucking office. Got it?”

  “Did you just try and give me an order, loco?”

  “I’m not trying anything. I’m telling you. No one.”

  She threw you a kinda skewed smile and then turned around to leave. But as she crossed the threshold she stopped and looked back at you with pure steel in her eyes.

  “4pm. If you’re not at medical by then, I’ll drag you there by your ear.”

  “Try it. Please.”

  She left and you sighed and looked at Marcus, who had sat down on the couch again, one arm draped over the backrest while he’d watched you take on Máma.

  “Are you absolutely sure you feel fine? Because I’m all kinds of hot and bothered right now.”

  “50 noise-complaints, Marcus. That’s half the damned building.”

  “And like I said: fuck ‘em.”

  “Please go away so I can think.”

  “Only if you promise to call me the moment you feel any amount of craving. I’m serious.”

  “You think I want to feel like that again? Of course I’ll call, and you’d better pick up. I don’t care if HQ’s on fire.”

  “You have my word, famb.”

  “You know, your list of nicknames is getting a bit ridiculously long.”

  “Oh, I haven’t even started on the real one’s yet.”

  “Real ones?”

  “Prometida, esposa, amada, mi corazón…”

  “Okay, okay, have as many as you like, jeez.”

  “Which one’s your favourite?”

  “You already know.”

  He got up from the sofa and came over to kiss you before he left. His lips lingered long after the kiss ended.

  “Hermosa…”

  He was intoxicating. You put a hand up on his chest and pushed him away gently.

  “Get out of here, gorgeous. Mama’s got work to do.”

  “Oh, that’s mean. You know how I love it when you talk all husky like that.”

  “I’ll call you if I need you.”

  He walked away looking disappointed, but also kind of expectant, like he was looking forward to getting you back later. You smiled and shook your head after the door closed behind him.

  You did get a lot of work done after that, and even if you were still miles behind from catching up to where you’d been 7 weeks ago, it still felt good to have gotten back on track. Especially on what had been possibly the weirdest day of your life. Which was saying something.   Your libido stayed calm and behaved for the rest of the workday, but you did see Anita’s point in getting yourself checked over, and so you were planning on going to the med-bay.   But at 3:30 you were working on your computer, looking up rare metals for an upcoming build, and you sort of stumbled over a site for wedding-rings.   You were just gonna take a quick peak, scrolling through the various options, and getting progressively more worked up as you saw the price-tags.   You were just about to leave the page and go back to work, when an ad in the corner popped up.

  Wedding-dresses.

  Fuck.

  You clicked.

  “If you thought I was kidding about the ear, you were sorely mistaken.”

  You startled at the sound of her voice, and a puff of energy escaped you, sending papers flying everywhere.

  “Thanks a lot, Anita. Why don’t you give me a heart-attack while you’re at it?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not my fault you were so engrossed in that screen you didn’t notice me. What were you looking at, anyway?”

  Had half an hour already passed? You just clicked on that ad a second ago… And why was she looking at you like that?

  “Just research.”

  “Mhm. Let’s go.”

  “Alright, just let me get these papers off the floor.”

  As expected, since the event seemed to have passed, the medical exam didn’t reveal anything, and Anita seemed unnecessarily peeved about that.

  “What are you so upset about? What exactly did you think they’d find?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “Never mind, my ass. You all but dragged me to this exam, and now you’re disappointed. So, spill. What’s the deal?”

  “I just hoped that maybe… you increased enthusiasm was…”

  “Was…?”

  “Alright, most women experience increased sensitivity when they’re pregnant. I just wanted to be sure.”

  You sort of half froze midway through pulling your pants back on, and your hands involuntarily went to your abdomen.

  “Oh… I never even considered…”

  “I’m sorry, niña. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, I’m not upset. God, I don’t even know what I am.”

  You finished dressing and sat down on a chair, letting your head fall into your hands.

  “Eight months ago, I was just a designer, going on a fucking vacation. Now, I don’t even know what the hell I am anymore, much less what to do. Every time I think I’m starting to get a handle on things, something else happens and I’m lost again.”

  She tapped your leg with her cane, ushering you to look at her.

  “What you are, is my son’s fiancé. My granddaughter’s adoptive mother. You’re smart, highly capable and stubborn, kind and caring, but abrasive when the situation requires it. You’re everything you need to be. And that’s all you ever really need to know about yourself.”

  You drew a deep breath.

  “Do you think he made the right choice? With me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Thank you.”

  You called Marcus to let him know how the exam had gone, and he was just about to pick up Missy, so since you had your own car you told him you’d race him home.   But you decided to stop by Amanda’s house on the way. You wanted to talk to both of them, but her place was closer.

  When you walked in at home, Missy was in the living room playing a video-game with Noodles, A Capella and Wild Card. It had been a while since she’d had any friends over, and you smiled when you saw how much fun she was having.

  “Hey, Alma! Wanna see me crush these guys for the second time?”

  “Any day of the week, angel, but I gotta talk to your dad right now.”

  “Okay, suit yourself!”

  You laughed and walked into the kitchen to find him opening pizza-boxes and distributing slices onto plates.

  “Hey, sweetheart, sorry, this wasn’t planned, they just spontaneously asked if they could come over as I was picking her up.”

  “Honey, why are you explaining yourself?”

  “I don’t know… it’s just, with the weird day you’ve had and how you seemed a little down after the exam, I thought that maybe you weren’t quite in the mood for a house full of teenagers.”

  “No matter how I feel, Missy’s entitled to enjoy herself with her friends. I would never wanna deprive her of that.”

  “No, I know. I just worry about you.”

  “Yeah, I do too, sometimes. But that’s usually when I remember I have you, and it all feels better.”

  He smiled and asked you to help him carry out the food to the living room, and once you’d done that, you sat down at the dinner table to eat yourselves.

  “So… I may have googled wedding-dresses today.”

  He beamed.

  “Really? Did you manage to narrow down any preferences? Don’t give me any specifics, by the way.”

  “I did, I think. Or, at least, I found a lot of stuff I didn’t like, so I guess that helps. I don’t know, I feel like I need to see them, touch them, to actually get a sense of what I like.”

  He beamed even more.

  “I really like the sound of this. I’m sure Amaire would come with you if you asked.”

  “Yeah, I kind of already asked them to, this weekend.”

  He was fucking radiating joy at that point. He got up and took your hand, leading you to the bedroom and closing the door behind you.   Then he reached into his pocket and fished something out. His smile turned just a hint of insecure, as he held up the ring he’d chosen for you.   It was gold-plated steel, with a single row of small diamonds sunk into the centre of the band all the way around. A sturdy and solid piece that wouldn’t break or lose its shape.   While you admired it, he started trying to explain his choice.

  “I know you’re not much of a jewellery-girl, so I figured we’d skip the whole engagement ring plus wedding-band. You can wear it right away if you want and then just take it off before the ceremony, or you can wait and put it on then, either way is fine with me. That is, if you like it? If you don’t, we’ll take it back and you can pick something else. It just felt right as soon as I saw it. You’re not the frail silver band type of person, and I know you’d only get annoyed with a big rock getting in the way and getting caught in stuff. You work with your hands and so I figured something sturdy but elegant. I have a matching one just without the diamonds. Please say something before I pass out from oxygen-depravation…”

  “I love it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Really.”

  You both beamed.

  “Can I put it on you?”

  “You better.”

  He slipped it on your finger and it fit perfectly. And for the first time it really sunk in that you were gonna marry this man. The love of your life.   It felt like a really long time until the kids went home and Missy went to bed, with her headphones on.

  “I totally forgot, we need to go bed-shopping, honey.”

  “I don’t know, a mattress on the floor might be preferable until we know the extent of your ‘heat-situation’.”

  “Mm. Good point. Although, breaking in a new bed is always fun.”

  “Hermosa.”

  “What?”

  “Stop talking and get undressed. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​​ @farfromjustordinary​ @allmyspideys​ @hrk-fic-recs​ @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts​ @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[yayeetsonny]

Keeping Secrets~USWNT x Baby Reader

Prompt: Team finds out baby r has epilepsy.

Requested by: @khiaraaa-in-spacee​

TW: Depictions of seizures and mentions of them.

Y/N PRO//

My name is Y/N L/N and I have epilepsy. Having epilepsy is hard because a lot of people assume that there is just the one kind, where a person suddenly falls to the ground and experiences uncontrollable muscle movement. While that is a common form that it can take there are several other types. Like mine, I experience Typical absence seizures, this means that when I am experiencing one I stop whatever it was I was doing and it can look like I’m frozen or zoning out, my eyelids flutter quite a bit and my ams jerk slightly sometimes too. When these happen I don’t realize it until it’s over.  Most of the time I have several in a row so when everything is over I tend to be a little confused. 

I try not to let it define my life. I’m also a member of the United States Women’s National soccer team. I’m the youngest player on the squad at 15 and the team is over protective to say the least. They tend to overdue it by a lot when we’re on the field, for example if I go down injured at all they swarm me, asking if I’m okay a million times and calling the medical staff over for the tiniest injuries.. Off the field is much the same, they wake me up at the same time every morning because

“Having a routine is important.” 

Christen has told me this a thousand times, doesn’t mean I like being woken up at 5:30 am everyday, off days included. (That is unless I’m sick, then they make me hate naps) Once I’m up they make me get dressed and they carry me down to the dining hall where all the food is set up. When they first started doing this I protested being carried, citing that I was a big girl and I had two legs that worked perfectly fine but, after a look from Ali and Ashlyn I just let it happen. The veterans of the team also stormed the coaching staff’s office demanding that they find a way to make breakfast available for me (and them) when I wake up. They didn’t do this to be snobby or high maintenance they say its because

“If don’t eat right away in the morning, you get grouchy.” 

I don’t, but they think I do so I just let them have it and eat by 6 everyday. 

I haven’t told the team that I have epilepsy because I don’t want to scare them or freak them out. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it or anything it’s just that I don’t want them to feel like they have to worry about me even more than they already do.

“Hey Y/N! You in there?” Kelley asks appearing out of nowhere.

“What? Oh, sorry what’s up?”

“We just wanted to see if you wanted to go to the coffee shop around the corner with us.” 

She pointed to nearly half the team, including all the vets who were looking at me with concern written all over their faces.

“I think I’ll stay here, thanks anyways.”

“Are you sure? You love that place.” Kelley said frowning.

She was right, I had never turned down going there, especially with her. I wasn’t going to tell her this but I had forgot to take my seizure medicine so I need to stay back to take it before I forgot.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay, well, we’ll bring you something back then.” 

“Y/N?” Christen grabbed my hand before I could start walking to the elevators to go back to my room.

“Yeah Chris?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I just wanna make sure. You know, me and the other veterans wouldn’t mind staying with you. We could hang here and watch movies or play board games or if you want we could all lay down and nap together, I know how much you love the “Cuddle puddle” we create.”

“I’m okay, really. Go have fun with the others. I think I’m just gonna go read my book in my room.”

“Okay, see you later.”

She gave me a hug before leaving, I watched as she explained what we talked about to the other vets and I saw several of them turn back to look at me. I shrugged at them before turning on my heel and heading back to my room. 

Once there, I took my medicine out of its hiding place, making sure to take the right dosage I then put it back and make sure it would stay hidden. I had to hide it because the girls always double check my bag before we leave any where we’ve stayed to make sure I have all my stuff. It’s nice sometimes but it also can get a little annoying.

There was a sudden knock at my door making me jump a little. Who could that be? The players who stayed behind were those that loved to nap and or they didn’t like coffee and almost all of them needed to have there alone time so getting a visitor is rare. After looking through the peephole I saw it was my roommate and best friend Morgan.

“Hey Moe! I thought you went with the others?” I said as I let her in.

“I did but I forgot my sunglasses. Have you seen them?”

“Um, I think you left them on the bathroom sink.”

“Oh that’s right! Okay, well got ‘em! See you later.”

“See you.” 

After she left I was able to go back to reading my book, It was pretty peaceful and I had almost made it half way through when I stopped. The book fell out of my hands and onto the floor with a loud thud. 

My eyelids fluttered and my fingers twitched and then just like that it was over. They only last 10-20 seconds, which isn’t long at all but for me it often feels like hours before I am aware of my surroundings again. Okay, there’s one. Am I going to have more?

My medicine has reduced them but it doesn’t stop them completely and some days it doesn’t work at all. I would go to a doctor to fix the prescription but since I can’t drive and the girls don’t know I just leave it be. 

“Oh boy, today is gonna be a long day.” I say to no one but myself before I slowly stand up and go to the sink to splash water on my face. 

We have practice in 45 minutes and I know the girls will want me to be ready a few minutes early. After I take my time changing into my gear and double checking that I do indeed look okay I make my way down to the lobby so that I can get on the bus before everyone else. I choose to sit all the way in the back and put my earbuds in so they know I don’t want to be bothered. But it seems Megan didn’t get the memo because she sits down right next to me and yanks the earbud out of my ear, putting it in her own.

“Hey kid, where you been? We brought back your favorite drink but you weren’t in your room.”

“I’ve been here.” I say shortly

“Okay?”

“Sorry I’m just tired.”

“You should’ve taken a nap before practice Y/N. What have we told you about that?”

“That I get grouchy without one, I know.”

“Do you?” 

“Yes! I’m sorry, okay? I forgot, I’ll take one when we get back.”

“I’ll be having a discussion with Carli, Chris, Alex, and the others about what we can do to help you remember.” She said leaving no room for argument.

Ugh, I hate when they have “Veteran meetings” about me. After they’ve decided something, they sit me down and all crowd around me so that if I get upset, they can comfort me. 98% of the time whatever they tell me isn’t a big deal, like a curfew. I can deal with that or even an early bedtime when I get sick or injured. But I draw the line on some things.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Y/N.”

“Whatever.”

“Are we gonna have to talk about your attitude too?” 

“No. Sorry.”

“Mhm, what I thought.”

We finally arrived at the training facility we were practicing at this camp before our up coming international friendlies, and I grabbed my stuff and ran off the bus so I wouldn’t have to deal with Megan giving me the look anymore. 

“Y/N! Walk please!” I heard Alex shout from behind me but I ignored her.

Ali PRO//

“Okay is it just me or she acting weird?” I asked, concerned for our youngest teammate 

“Mmm, she’s just in a mood.” Megan said

“Okay, but she knows how we feel about her running anywhere that’s not the field, she’s the clumsiest kid we know. Plus, she always listens to me.” Alex said

She made a good point, she listened to all of us 9 times out of 10, some more than others but still. We all just stood there, letting the young players off first while we continued discussing our kid’s weird behavior.

“Hey guys?” 

“Yeah Ash?”

“What’s this?”

She held up a pill bottle that none of us had seen before. On it in big bold letters, was the name Y/N L/N and it was a medicine called Ethosuximide with the name (Zarontin) in parentheses. What the hell?

“What is that and why does she have it?” Christen asked angrily.

“I don’t know but I’m gonna find out right now.” Ashlyn said as she stomped off the bus.

“Ash, Ash hold on!” 

I stood in front of her trying to get her to stop walking.

“Why?”

“I know you, you aren’t going to let her explain and you’ll jump to conclusions.”

“What’s there to explain Ali? None of us have ever seen her take pills before and we all know she doesn’t have any medical conditions. We made Vlatko give us her file remember?”

“Yes but you should still let her explain.”

Ashyln was growing more upset and I was having a hard time keeping her at bay. As we got closer to the locker room the players who were already on the field or heading out attention was drawn to our argument. 

“Ash, cool it. Young ones in the vicinity.” Alex said referring to the “youngins” as Becky called them.

“I don’t care. I’m talking to her right now.”

There was nothing me, Alex or any of the other veterans could do to stop her from storming into the locker room.

“Y/N Y/M L/N!”

She came over to the front of the room quickly, startled and looking slightly terrified. She had yet to spot the pill bottle Ashyln was holding behind her back.

“Yeah Ash? What’s up?”

“ “What’s up?” she says. What’s up? That’s all you have to say?” Ashlyn had a bite to her tone that made me shiver. She can be mad intimidating when she wants to be. 

“Yes?”

“What’s up Y/N, is this.” 

As soon as she saw what she was holding all the color drained from Y/N’s face and I was afraid  she might faint. 

“Y/N… Sweetie, you’re okay. We’re just a little worried about you.” Chris said stepping forward and blocking her view of Ashlyn’s “Mean face” 

She tried to reach for Y/N but she turned away from her and made a move to leave.

“Uh you know, I really should get out on the field with the others. See you guys out there!”

Alex grabbed her around the waist and held her in her arms tightly so she couldn’t go anywhere. She tried to get her to let go but gave up when she realized Alex was too strong.

“Shhh, deep breaths. You’re okay. It’s just us. It’s okay.” Alex cooed softly in her ear.

I could tell that she was scared and was trying not to let her walls down.

“It-it’s not anything bad I swear!” 

“Really, then what is it?” 

“It’s just… can we just talk about it later? Please.”

“No, what is this and why do you have it?” 

“I- Please just let me go practice.”

“Y/N…”

“I have epilepsy, okay?! There, can I go practice please?”

She freed herself from Alex and ran out onto the field. We all chased after her and Christen tried to catch her but she was saved by the whistle.

“Ladies! Let’s go, stop messing around and get to work!” Dawn yelled, we knew it was directed at us.

After that we had no choice but to let it go and practice. We did the usual, stretching and warm up and then position group training, individual for some and scrimmages to end the session. Were half way through a scrimmage whenI noticed Y/N stop moving. It was like she was frozen, she wasn’t moving except for her arms that were jerking slightly and I could see her eyelids fluttering. She must be having a seizure. I thought. I rushed over to her stopping practice and tried everything to get her to snap out of it. Many of our teammates also tried to no avail and everyone was gathered around her unsure of what to do.

“Okay let’s give her some space.” Ashlyn said

I stayed close in case I had to prevent her from falling and hitting her head or needed to do anything else to help her.

She continued to seize, each one only lasted 10 seconds but she had 5 in a row and when those had stopped she only came to for a few seconds before she started to experience a second wave. In total she was unresponsive for almost a minute and half straight. Christen had put her arms on her shoulders, trying to let her know she was there.

“Y/N, it’s okay. We’re here. You’re okay.”

“What do we do?”

“We just have to let her know we’re here.”

“What’s going on? Is she okay?”

Several of the younger players looked scared and unsure of what to do, so Tobin and Megan took them away from where Y/N was and tried to reassure them she was gonna be okay.

Y/N PRO//

Everything finally started to come back into focus and at this point I had been moved to the ground and I was sitting in Chris’s lap as she held me. When I was fully out of the state I had been in I started to try to push her away, I was disoriented and confused and I didn’t remember what I was doing here.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Y/N you’re safe, it’s okay.” Becky said as I settled down and the rest of the team begin trying to help me.

Chris held me the whole time, cooing in my ear and trying to keep me calm. Everything was super loud and my mind and body had gone into sensory overload trying to come back to practice. When I realized what happened and I was able, I pushed my way out of Christen’s arms, and ran back to the locker room. After that I ignored everyone and their questions about what was going on. I was the first back on the bus and had planned to continue ignoring everyone. The Vets of the team had other ideas however and put an end to it quickly.

“You feeling better little one?”

“Yeah Al, I am.”

“That was really scary.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about babe. But can I ask you something?” Ali said

“Sure, shoot.”

“Did you take your medicine today?”

“Yeah, I did it just doesn’t work well.” I said timidly

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the right dosage, it just doesn’t work well enough most of the time.”

“Why didn’t you get it adjusted?”

“I didn’t want anyone to find out about it.”

“That’s dangerous, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know you were scared. We’ll take you to get it adjusted as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

When we got back to the hotel I dropped off my stuff and decided to go for a walk. I needed to think about some things, and I knew the girls wanted to have a more in depth talk about what happened but I wasn’t ready. Eventually though I made my way back to the room and when I opened the door my roommate was there to greet me.

“Hey babe! You came back to me!’ Moe said dramatically as I entered our room.

“I’ll always come back to you, baby.” I said jokingly

“You better. My life is so boring without you!”

“I am the life of the party I’ve been told.”

“Ha ha, If anyone is the life of the party its Crystal. Girl can dance.”

“Definitely.”

“Have you talked to the others since we got back?”

“Uhh... no. I’m sorta avoiding them.” I said rubbing the back of my neck.

“You know that they’ll want to talk to you about it eventually right? I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

I was unsure of what to do because I didn’t really want to talk to them about it but I knew I had to. After another hour of avoiding it, I got up and made my way to Alex’s room. I knocked on the door timidly and waited for it to open.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just was wondering if I could talk to you all?” I said as I saw almost all the older players in her room.

“Of course.”

We got to talking about what happened and I told them about the condition I had and when it first appeared and all the while Alex held me in her lap, cooing in my ear when I would start to get emotional and the others sat around us doing there best to let me know they were there.

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Ashlyn asked 

“I was just afraid.”

“You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell us these things. I’m sorry you felt the need to hide it from us.” JJ said.

“I know today was scary for everyone. I think I should tell the whole team everything soon.”

“Are you sure? You shouldn’t feel like you have to, if you’re not ready that’s okay too.”

“I am, it’s okay. Will you guys be there?”

“Of course, always.”

“I love you guys.”

“We love you too.”

I knew that some of them were still a little hurt that I hadn’t told them sooner or they felt bad because they weren’t able to protect me but I knew we would be okay.

we agreed to be more honest with each other going forward and When it came time for me to tell the entire team the older players were there to support me and help me explain everything. They were all super supportive and assured me that they didn’t see me any differently.

After our heart to heart we decided to do some much needed team bonding.

Rose showed me a Tick tok of a bulldog trying to reach a cake that was just out of its reach and failing (or succeeding) spectacularly as it splattered in the floor.

“Wilma would totally do this!” I said laughing at the thought of Rose’s dog doing something similar.

“She totally would but I would give her a hand.” Rose giggled.

Kelley succeeded in putting a cup on her head with only her feet and I was in awe of her flexibility. I attempted to do the same but I failed miserably and pouted as everyone laughed at me.

“Good try kid. You’ll get it eventually.” Kel said.

We ended up playing cup pong (the clean version), Jenga, Sorry, Truth or Dare, and twister. We also tried playing hide and seek through out the hotel but we got in trouble with the managerial staff and almost got the whole team kicked out. Let’s just say that Vlatko was not too pleased… 

Sam, Rose, Sonnett, Lindsey and Mal choreographed a new dance and performed it for everyone. We all watched for over an hour as these knuckleheads tried to get it all down perfectly.

“Oh my god you guys, try again tomorrow when you actually know the dance.” Tobin said exasperated

“No, no we can do this. Right guys?” 

“Yes we can.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Just give us a minute.”

“We got this.”

We watched on as they tried and failed to prove that they had it, but we all gave them an A+ for effort anyways.

“We would have gotten it, if you guys had just been patient enough.” Sam grumbled.

“We watched for over an hour, you know this team, they can’t sit still forever.” I giggled.

“I guess you’ve got a point.” Sam chuckled.

“Hey! We’re not that bad at sitting still.” Kelley protested.

“Uh, yeah Kel. We are.”

The whole team giggled at that and agreed that together asking us to sit still for long periods was useless.

After that we made pies and cupcakes and they were actually really good, but things took a turn when I decided to smash Ali’s face in a pie. She then chased me down the hall trying to get me back.

“Y/N, get back here!”

“Becky! Save me!”

“No way kid. Not trying to get punched.” She said before she closed her door.

“Traitor!” I yelled as I continued to run from a pissed off Ali Krieger. 

She eventually caught up to me and attacked me with kisses and tickles. I ended up covered head to toe in pie filling after she got hers all over me and then found another one and got revenge.

“Aw man, you got me.” I said as I giggled wildly as she tickled me some more.

“This whole team loves you so much. You know that right?” Alex would later tell me that night as we all snuggled on the two beds in the room I shared with Morgan. 

“Yeah, I know. I love you guys too.” 

They drive me nuts with the constant hovering and weird, silly rules they make me follow but I am so grateful to have them in my life and to have such an amazing group of friends who love and support me no matter what. Me and my 23 best friends are family for life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

//

THE END

If I got anything wrong, I’m so sorry. I did the best research that I could. Sorry for any mistakes.

-N

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 2 - 74

BLACKOUT!! @badthingshappenbingo​​​

Honor Bound 2 - 74 (more expendable than you) - requested by @my-whumpy-little-heart​​​​ and @omega-em-z-02​​​​

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: thoughts/discussion of death, noncon mention, death threats, gendered slur, death, broken bones mention, blood, gunshot wounds

~

Gavin told Isaac to count for ten minutes after he’d been taken back to his cell. Ten minutes, and the guards would be back at their posts after dropping Isaac off. Ten minutes, and then it would start. Ten minutes and the family would make a break for freedom, or die.

Isaac had ten minutes to explain the plan and convince the family to follow it. He was already seven minutes in.

“She…” Tori’s voice shook. “She said if I… if I take it off, she’ll… she’ll kill Vera, I… I can’t…”

“I know she did,” Isaac said softly, counting in his head. 434. 435. 436. “I know. But… she won’t make it here. She won’t make it in time. Gavin will beat her here and get us out.”

“I don’t trust him,” Tori whimpered. “I don’t, I don’t trust him. He’s different. He’s… he’s changed. He hurts me, I can’t… please… he hurts me…”

“I know he does, babe,” Vera said softly. “But… it’s only because he has to. If you do this, he won’t have to anymore.”

“But what if he’s lying?” Tori said weakly. “What if he really likes this? What if he just wants us for himself now, and he’s lying?”

“Tori…” Isaac’s voice broke as the flicker of a memory gripped him, a memory of Gavin’s hand gently cradling his face, pulling him close for a kiss and then pulling back at the last moment… 461. 462. 463. “He doesn’t want to hurt us. You just have to… trust me on this. Okay? I was with him last night. We were up all night planning this, going over contingencies, filling holes in the plan… If this plan doesn’t work, nothing will. Believe me. Please.”

“Why today?” Tori sobbed. “Why not weeks ago? We’ve been kept here for, for weeks, and he’s been torturing us this whole time…”

“Tori,” Vera said, a hint of firmness in her voice. “He had to. He had absolutely no choice. I know it hurts, babe, but—”

“We’re doing this now because he can help us now,” Isaac said. “He’s trusted. It’s why I got to stay with him. Colleen trusts him. She thought he’d fuck me last night, like he’s meant to.” 508. 509. 510.

“He still did,” Tori whispered.

Isaac swallowed hard. Gavin did fuck him, with Leo holding him down, Leo’s hand in his hair, Leo forcing him down to the bed as he screamed… Isaac shuddered and forced the image from his mind. He forced away the pain as his body locked down at the memory, at the feeling, of Gavin forcing himself on Isaac. Not gently, not tenderly like he had before. Gavin played the game so well that Leo believed it.

And then Gavin had nearly kissed him. Why had he pulled back? If he felt nothing for Isaac, why hold him at all? Why not push him away?

539. 540. 541. Isaac cleared his throat. “It had to be today because she’s going to kill him today.”

“And if she’s killing him today…” Sam spoke for the first time, shivering with terror, cowering towards the floor. “…then we’re dying today, too.”

“I know it’s terrifying,” Vera croaked. “I know it feels like you’re killing me. But… Tori… if this doesn’t work, I’m dying today anyway.”

“No,” Tori sobbed. “Don’t say that, don’t say that… Please…”

“If you don’t do this, I don’t get Ellis back,” Finn whimpered from their cell. “Please, Tori. I… please. This is how we get out. This has to be you.”

“Gavin’s done this for us once before,” Isaac rasped, a smile playing across his lips for a fraction of a second. “And that was back before any of us trusted him.” 553. 554. 555. Please, Tori. Please. Do this, or we miss our chance. Please.

“Tori, please,” Vera said softly. “I won’t take it off you myself. But… please. Please do it.”

Tori heaved a sob, the sound muffled by her hand. There was a rattle of chains and the sound of a body moving across the floor.

“I love you,” Tori whimpered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Vera said back, conviction strengthening her voice, evening out the tremor. “I love you so much.”

“Okay.” A sniff. “How long do we have, Isaac?”

567. 568. 569. “Thirty seconds,” Isaac croaked.

“Oh, god,” Tori sobbed. “Oh, Vera, no no no no…”

“It’s okay, babe. I got you. Gavin’s got us. It’s okay.”

576. 577. 578.

“Vera, p-please, what if he kills you, what if he kills you…?”

“He won’t. Just breathe, babe. You can do this.”

585. 586. 587.

“I-Isaac, when…?”

“Ten. Nine.”

“Oh no, oh no, oh no…”

“Eight. Seven.”

“Okay okay okay.”

“Six. Five.”

“Oh, Vera, I love you…”

“Four. Three.”

“I love you too.”

“Two. One. Do it, Tori.”

There was a clink, and a short beep. A clatter. Tori heaved a sob.

“I took it off,” she whispered. “No no no no no, she’s gonna… Oh, god, Vera, I’m so sorry, please, no…”

“You did it, babe,” Vera said softly, pride warming her voice. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“You remember what I said?” Isaac said breathlessly, his heart pounding in his chest. No stopping this now. “Get to the side. Get out of sight of the door. Stand still, don’t move.”

“Yeah,” Tori breathed. There was a scramble of hands and knees on the floor. “Oh, god. Oh, shit.”

“Steady, Tori,” Isaac said gently. “You’re alright. Breathe. Slowly. In, out.”

“Right,” Tori gasped. “Breathing. Good.”

“Keep breathing. And when they come, stay perfectly silent. Stay out of the way. Don’t let them see you.”

A whimper. “Okay. I can do it.”

“You can do this,” Vera said, intensity crackling in every word.

Isaac strained his hearing to try to pick up the pounding of boots, of shouts. He knew the cell block was soundproofed. There was no point in trying to hear anything. He tried, all the same.

He jumped when the door to the hallway burst open.

Three guards jogged in and went straight for Tori and Vera’s cell, guns already drawn. Three’s better than it could have been, but more than we were hoping for. One of them was the one who had nearly shot Isaac against his sergeant’s orders. Isaac shivered as they all stopped moving, probably taking up position around Tori and Vera’s cell.

“Where the fuck is she?” one of them snarled. That was him. Simmons.

There was a clink of a chain moving against the floor. “Beats me,” came Vera’s voice. “I haven’t seen her since last night. Didn’t you guys get an alert or something?”

“Bullshit,” another snapped. “She’s probably just… hiding in that damned corner.” There was a jingle of keys.

“She’s not here to put the muzzle on me so…” The sound of keys stopped for a moment. “Come on in here. I dare you.”

Isaac had to suppress a smile. That’s right. Keep them talking. Give Gavin time.

“We put her down now, and look for the other one once she’s dead,” one of them murmured.

“Go right ahead,” Vera snapped. “That’ll help you find her.”

“Shit.” There was a rustle of uniforms. “Do we tell Mrs. Stormbeck? Or…”

Someone banged on the door to the hallway.

Isaac could have sobbed with relief. Colleen would have had someone with her with keys. He beat her, for now.

“Go see who the fuck that is.”

Simmons passed in front of Isaac and Sam’s cell with a withering glance in their direction. He holstered his weapon as he did. The door opened, and the guard gasped quietly.

“Oh. Ga— Mr. Stormbeck. What—”

“Move, Simmons.” Gavin stepped past the guard and stalked past Sam and Isaac, his face pulled into a mask of fury.

“Mr.—”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Stormbeck. I get it.”

“Sir, what—”

“That one’s bitch took off her collar, didn’t she?”

“Um… yes sir.”

“Fucking hell. We fucking told her…”

“Sir, we were just… did you want us to put her down here? Or take her back to your moth—”

“Fuck that,” Gavin hissed. “Jones, give me your fucking gun. I’m going to put her down. Fucking animal killed my father and put me in the hospital for weeks.”

“S-sir—”

“Jones, give me your fucking gun.”

Isaac held his breath. This worked once, with two idiots who had one gun between them. These guys are trained, and wearing body armor. Please, Gavin, please don’t miss… I can’t listen to you die when we’re so fucking close to getting out.

There was the sound of a weapon being unholstered. “Yes, sir,” the guard said heavily. Isaac let out his breath.

Simmons took a step back and into Isaac’s view. He through a poisonous look at Sam, then Isaac. “What?” he sneered. “No drama? No begging? Thank god we’ve finally beaten that shit out of you. Now—”

Bang.

Simmons jumped, his head snapping towards Gavin. He reached for his gun.

Bang.

He had the gun out of his holster and was bringing it up to shoot.

Bang.

Simmons jerked backwards and fell to the floor. Dead.

Isaac gasped. His ears rang with the sounds of the gunshots. He did it. He fucking did it.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard the jingle of keys.

“No, no no no,” Isaac said, lunging forward against the chains. “Make sure they’re dead, Gavin. Headshots. Don’t touch the keys yet.”

A sigh. “They were headshots, Isaac.”

“Okay,” Isaac croaked. Gavin stepped into view and threw a wry glance in Isaac’s direction. “Sorry.”

Gavin yanked the keys from Simmons’ belt and went first to Isaac and Sam’s cell. Isaac felt something give way in his chest as the door swung open.

Gavin stumbled in and fell to his knees beside Isaac. He threw his arms around Isaac and buried his face in his neck.

“Isaac,” Gavin breathed. “It worked. Holy fuck…”

Isaac pressed a kiss into Gavin’s hair. His stomach lurched in the same moment. He doesn’t have to fuck me now. I don’t get to touch him like that anymore. He looked over Gavin’s shoulder and saw Sam weakly pushing themselves up to their knees. Gavin pulled back and fumbled with the keys, reaching for the shackles around Isaac’s wrists.

Isaac yanked his hand back. “No. Start with Sam. Get them out.”

“N-no, Isaac,” Sam gasped. “If more guards come, you need to… you’re more…” They winced.

Isaac’s mouth went dry. “I’m more… what?”

“I’m…” Sam panted and wrapped their arms around their chest, splinting the cracked ribs from when they’d been kicked yesterday. “I’m, um…” Their voice dropped to a whisper. “Expendable. It’s okay if I—”

Isaac all but shoved Gavin away from him. “Free them first,” he growled. His hand snapped in Sam’s direction. “Now, Gavin.”

Gavin swallowed hard and turned to Sam. He unlocked the chain from their collar. They slumped to the floor, wheezing.

“Now you,” Gavin murmured. He scrambled over to Isaac and unchained him from the wall.

Isaac leapt to his feet, trying to force down the wave of nausea and dizziness that gripped him for a moment as he stood. He stumbled out of the cell and went to one of the guards lying splayed in front of Vera and Tori’s cell. Blood was slowly leaking out of the bullet holes in their heads. His hands shook as he yanked the keys from the guard’s belt and lunged for Finn’s cell. He unlocked the door and tossed the keys inside. Finn grabbed the keys and immediately reached for the chain locked to their collar.

Isaac went to the last guard and ripped the ring of keys from his belt. He unlocked Tori and Vera’s cell and passed the keys to Tori, standing just behind the bars. He turned back to the guards and reached for the nearest one.

“Gavin,” Isaac said, his voice falling into the harsh tone it always got on missions. “There’s blood. Cover your, your nose or something.”

“Already on it,” Gavin said, his voice slightly muffled. Isaac turned and saw Gavin supporting Sam, a cloth tied around Gavin’s face. Isaac’s jaw clenched shut at how pale Sam looked, at the pain in every line of their face.

Gavin set Sam gently against the wall. “Can you stand?” Gavin said softly. Isaac blinked tears out of his eyes.

“Yeah,” Sam gasped. “I’m, I’m fine.”

Gavin crammed the ring of keys into his pocket and turned to Isaac. “You all good here?”

Isaac glanced around at the others, all free of their chains, a fierceness in each of them. Even Tori. “Yeah,” he said. “Go get Ellis.”

Gavin met Isaac’s gaze for a moment, something behind his eyes that made Isaac’s chest ache. This is the most dangerous part for him. I’m sending him back out there with no protection, no weapons… Isaac swallowed hard. He jerked the gun out of the guard’s holster and held it out to Gavin.

“Here,” Isaac said weakly. “Take this. I can’t let you—”

“We talked about this, Isaac,” Gavin said heavily. “You need that more than I do. If they find you, they’ll just shoot you dead. Me, at least…” Gavin shrugged, a choked laugh leaving his throat. “If they catch me, they won’t shoot me. They’ll just take me back to my mom. And if they catch me, it’ll be too late anyway.”

Something scratched at the back of Isaac’s mind, something about what Gavin said that didn’t sit right. Something that clenched Isaac’s gut. He opened his mouth to protest. We’ll all go together. We’ll all get Ellis out. We’ll figure something out. Please, please don’t go.

Gavin turned to leave. “I’ll get Ellis. You guys get out, get to where I told you to meet me. I’ll see you there.” He pulled the door open and ran, dragging the cloth away from his face. The door closed heavily behind him.

Isaac felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Vera at his side. She looked stronger than she had in weeks, her eyes blazing. “Come on, Isaac,” she said softly. “Let’s get them out.”

He shot a glance at Sam, sagging against the wall, sweat beading on their forehead. His throat went tight. “Yeah,” he rasped. He turned back to the guard on the floor in front of him.

“Okay,” he said, his voice a little stronger. “Three guards. Three vests. Vera, Finn, suit up. Tori and Sam, you stay behind us.” He ripped the guard’s shirt open down the front and reached for the guard’s knife. He cut the rest of the shirt off and began undoing the straps on the vest. He glanced to both sides and saw Vera and Finn doing the same.

“Babe,” Tori said softly. “Do you… I mean… do you have to…”

Vera didn’t look up. “Yeah,” she said curtly. Mission mode. “Isaac has the training, I’m ex-law enforcement, Finn’s ex—”

“Barely ex-military,” Finn snorted, a sort of fevered energy in their eyes. “Ex-military prep school? And I was bad at the military stuff.”

“Whatever,” Vera said. “We’ve got the training. We go in front.”

“But—”

Vera turned and looked at Tori. “Sam’s going to need help walking. Stay behind us. Keep your heads down. Help Sam.”

Tori bit her lip. “Okay.”

Isaac pulled the vest free and swung it up over his head, settling it over his shoulders and expertly pulling the Velcro straps tight. He grabbed the gun and checked it as Finn and Vera finished putting on their vests.

“Six rounds, plus one in the chamber,” Isaac said.

“Same,” Vera said.

“Same,” came Finn’s reply.

After another moment, Isaac yanked the belt off the guard and buckled it around his waist, sliding the guard’s knife into its sheath.

“Ready?” he said, his voice low. They all nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s go.” He took point and pushed the door open.

Finn and Vera fell to either side of him, with Sam and Tori so close behind him he could feel them against his back. They quickly made their way down the hall.

“Left,” he said softly. He cleared the hallway, and the others followed behind. He could hear Sam’s labored breathing behind him. Each gasp punched through his own chest. He shook his head and focused on the hallway in front of him. They paused just as they were about to pass another hallway.

“Vera—”

Vera stepped out and cleared the hallway. She motioned, and they all moved silently on.

Another hallway to the right. Vera cleared it, and they moved again.

“Right here,” Isaac whispered. Again, Vera stepped out to clear it. She gasped and brought her gun up. Isaac lunged forward, his own weapon held out in front of him.

Two guards were walking quickly in their direction.

“Right,” Isaac said.

“Left,” Vera said at the same time. They both took shots. Both guards went down. Finn scrambled around the corner, their own gun held up into the hall.

“I’m sorry,” Finn panted. “I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” Vera said, her voice harsh, her eyes focused. “You’re not used to this. Isaac and I are.”

“I’m sor—”

“Hush,” Vera snapped. “Not now.”

Finn swallowed and fell silent.

They moved quickly down the hallway, sidestepping the bodies of the two guards. Sam whimpered as they passed. Isaac reached one hand behind him for a moment, searching for Sam’s. Their hand slid into his and squeezed.

They reached the end of the hallway. Isaac cleared the way left, and they all moved.

“It’s another right, then a straight shot to the doors,” Isaac hissed.

A guard rounded the corner.

Finn, Isaac, and Vera all snapped their weapons up to point at him. His hands shot straight up into the air and he fell to his knees. “Please,” he gasped. “Oh, shit, fuck, please don’t…”

Isaac swallowed hard. It was the young guard, the guard from before, one of the ones who’d dragged Isaac into his cell and trembled as he did it. He’s Sam’s age, or younger. Isaac’s hand shook around the gun.

Vera’s stance tightened as she took aim.

“No,” Isaac whispered. “He’s a fucking kid.”

The barrel of Vera’s gun dipped. She blew out a slow breath between her lips. “Gun on the floor,” she snarled at the guard.

The guard drew his weapon and placed it on the floor. He slid it towards Isaac.

Isaac snatched it off the floor and passed it behind him, not taking his eyes off the guard. “Tori,” he whispered. She took it from his hand.

“Knife, too.”

The guard drew it from its sheath and tossed it over. Vera grabbed it and passed it back to Sam.

“Please,” the guard begged. “I didn’t, I didn’t want to do this, they, they told me it was just security, they… please, no…”

Vera dragged in a gasp beside Isaac. “Shit.”

“Don’t fucking move,” Isaac growled.

“I won’t,” the guard sobbed, tears suddenly rolling down his cheeks. “The d-door is, it’s, you walk past me and take a right and it’s—”

“We know,” Isaac said darkly. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

“I won’t, I—” The guard glanced behind Isaac. “No no no WATCH—”

Isaac spun, keeping his weapon down so it wouldn’t point at Sam and Tori. A guard was barreling down the hall towards them, weapon drawn and pointed right at them. Isaac aimed for the guard’s center mass.

Bang.

There was a spray of blood and Sam fell back against Isaac, just as the bullet punched into Isaac’s vest. He collapsed to the floor with Sam on top of him.

Bang.

The shot came from directly above him.

Isaac couldn’t breathe. He felt like he’d been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. The bullet had to have gone through. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe…

The world was fuzzy at the edges. Isaac dragged in a ragged breath, nearly screaming as his ribs creaked in his chest. The pain made him dizzy. His eyes rolled back in his head. Something wet was spilling into his lap. He looked down at Sam. They were covered in blood.

“SAM! NO!”

Isaac dropped the gun, his hands fumbling at Sam’s chest, at their neck, desperately searching for where the blood was coming from. He heaved a dry sob. His hands were slick with blood.

Someone pushed his hands away from Sam. “No!” Isaac screamed. “No, let me…”

There was a flash of chestnut hair and Finn pushed Isaac away again. “Let me,” Finn snapped, focused.

Finn’s hands moved over Sam, the same way Isaac had seen dozens of times. Head. Neck. Chest. Their hands stuttered and stopped as they found the bleed: the bullet had torn through Sam’s upper arm. Blood was pulsing from the wound.

“Isaac. Belt. Take everything off of it.” Finn’s voice was steady as they pressed their hand into the wound. Sam gasped and whined softly.

Isaac tore the belt off this waist and stripped it of its holster and sheath. He passed it to Finn. Finn wound it around Sam’s arm at their shoulder. They pulled it tight, then tighter, then tighter. Sam screamed. Isaac’s hands jerked towards them and then back.

“No, I need your help,” Finn said. “I’ll pull it tight. You buckle it so it stays.”

“And that’ll—”

“Not for long. But we’ve got to move. Now, Isaac.”

Isaac’s hands were wet with blood as he forced the belt to buckle around Sam’s arm. There was a black spot growing in his vision as every breath stabbed through him.

Finn’s voice was at his shoulder. “I’ll carry them. Vera—”

“I’ll cover,” she said from above Isaac, her voice shaking. “Isaac, can you walk?”

“I’ll carry…” Isaac swallowed. He swayed as he pushed himself to his feet.

“No,” Finn snapped. “Your ribs might be cracked. Not risking it. I’ve got them.” They quickly gathered Sam into their arms and lifted. Sam cried out as Finn cradled them against their chest. Sam’s skin was deathly pale.

“S-Sam,” Isaac sobbed.

“Let’s move,” Vera said. Her free hand closed around Isaac’s vest and jerked him forward. He stumbled after her as she cleared the next hallway. Tori and Finn followed behind, both supporting Sam. Just a few more steps. Just a few more steps. Isaac staggered forward, gasping.

“Gavin said… he… would have a car… said… just outside…”

“I know, Isaac,” Vera said, her voice strained. She reached the doors and shoved them open. They all rushed through and down the steps. There was a black, nondescript car at the bottom, already running. A valet stepped out of the car, a look of surprise and concern on his face. Vera took aim.

“No…” Isaac heaved.

“Necessary evil,” Vera said darkly. She took a shot. The valet jerked and toppled over into the driveway. She dashed down the stairs and pulled the car doors open for the others.

Finn and Tori stumbled on the steps and Sam nearly fell from their grasp. Sam let out a shriek of agony.

Isaac glanced up and his stomach clenched in panic. The young guard was barreling down the steps towards them. The gun Isaac had been carrying was held tight in the guard’s hand.

“V-Vera, Vera!” Isaac rasped, his voice raw. Vera turned and gasped, raising her gun to point it at the guard.

“No no no no! Don’t shoot! I…” The guard shoved the gun into his holster and raised his hands. “Just… just let me…” He knelt beside Sam and pulled them roughly into his arms.

“NO!” Isaac screamed. “No, no!” He fumbled for the gun he knew wasn’t there, he knew it was in the guard’s holster, and he was taking Sam…

The guard staggered down the steps towards the car with Sam in his arms. Isaac’s mouth fell open.

“Come on!” the guard yelled over his shoulder. “Come on, I… I want to help, please…”

“What the… fuck…” Vera breathed.

“Please,” the guard sobbed. “Please, I… I just want to, to help…”

Finn and Tori ran towards the guard and helped support Sam to the car. “We need to fucking go,” Tori hissed. “If he wants to help…”

Finn and Tori helped the guard as he carried Sam into the back seat and laid them across it. Sam whimpered, blood soaking into their clothes.

“Hey,” Vera barked at the guard. “The fuck is your name?”

“Zachariah,” the guard panted. His hands shot into the air as soon as his hands left Sam.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Vera snarled.

“H-helping,” the guard whimpered. “Please. I… I’m sorry…”

“Get the fuck out, then,” Vera snapped. Isaac glanced up at her and saw concern, not hatred. “Get the fuck out. Go back to the house. If they find you with us they’ll kill you. Go. Now.”

The guard fell backwards out of the car and scrambled up the steps. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry… I… I don’t want to be this anymore,” he sobbed.

Vera paused and looked at him, her eyes shining with tears. “Then head north,” she said heavily. “Keep heading north until there are no syndicates. You’ll reach a town. You’ll know you’re there, trust me. Tell them you’re a refugee and we sent you. You know our names?”

“Yes,” the guard breathed. “Thank you.” He turned and ran back into the house.

Isaac stumbled down the rest of the stairs. He eased himself into the middle seat and immediately reached back for Sam.

“Finn,” he gasped. “How do we, how…”

“I don’t know,” Finn said, their voice on the edge of a sob. “I don’t know. But we’ve got to switch out this tourniquet. And I… they’ve lost so much blood already, I… I need to…” Finn’s voice broke. “I can’t fix this without my med kit…”

Isaac turned his gaze back to the house, his vision blurred with tears. Sam was dying, and Gavin might be dead. If we go, can Finn save Sam? We’re hundreds of miles from friendly territory. And… Isaac’s stomach heaved with the amount of blood on Sam’s clothes, on his, soaking into the seat of the car. Finn can’t fix this here. But if we go, if we go, if we go…

“We just have to… wait for… Gavin and Ellis,” Isaac said almost to himself, his chest aching with each word. “They… they just have to… to make it out. And then we can go.”

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts​​​, @womping-grounds​​​, @free-2bmee​​​, @quirkykayleetam​​​, @walkingchemicalfire​​​, @inpainandsuffering​​​, @redwingedwhump​​​, @burtlederp​​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​​, @insomniacscoprio​​​, @cursedscribbles​​​, @whumpywhumper​​​, @stxck-fxck​​​, @omega-em-z-02​​​, @whumps-the-word​​​, @slaintetowhump​​​, @finder-of-rings​​​, @cinnamonflavoredhugs​​​, @thatsthewhump​​​, @im-just-here-for-the-whump​​​, @orchidscript​​​, @this-mightaswell-happen​​​, @newandfiguringitout​​​, @whumpkitty​​​, @pretty-face-breaker​​​

[openheart12]

Hi, yes, hello beautiful! Can you write a fic where MC accidentally sends Ethan her entire fanfic folder by mistake 😂🤣

How To Get Away With Fanfiction

I’m reliving my embarrassment 😭 but it is done and idk wtf happened with this lmao. This is also to make up for earlier kmjhygfd

Only tagging @ao719 @oofchoices @loveellamae @burnsoslow because no one else should have to read this unless they click on the read more and if they do... god bless. And thank you to Maroe for helping me come up with some of these ideas!

It had been a long day at work when Dr. Gertrude-Sue Claws made her way home to do the one thing that relaxed her; writing fanfiction.

She had thought of the perfect idea for Spirit and Rainbow Dash and her fingers flew across the keyboard.

There was something about the multi colors in his mane and tail that drew him to her. He lived by the phrase, “hump ‘em and dump ‘em,” which he planned on doing with Rainbow Dash, but not without consent because horse jail wasn’t fun. He had heard the horror stories from his human friends, Kurns and Bryce.

“Rainbow Dash,” he neighed.

“Spirit…” She neighed back in response, she knew all about his...extracurricular activities. He was the biggest fuck horse out of the herd. Ever since Rain had died from drowning, god bless, he hadn’t been the same. It was also why he paid more attention to Rainbow Dash because she had Rain in the first part of her name.

“Let’s do this,” he smirked with his horse mouth.

“Fine…” She turned her back to him as he reared on his hind legs and mounted her, letting out a series of neighs.

She laughed silently to herself before moving on her Owen Hunt fic and she knew how much she was going to enjoy this one especially.

Owen was walking through the halls when he saw five women stalking towards him like cats, one even had whiskers drawn on her face. “Anitah with the h, get him!” He heard one of them command and watched as she came up to him, kicking him in no man's land. He felt them drag him into an empty exam room.

“MAROE! You got the chainsaw?”

“Nah bruh, Bears and Rams were in charge of that,” she explained.

Anything but Krista, cocked her half shaved eyebrow at Burns and Ella. “Y’all got the chainsaw?”

“No, but I have the cream for the burn I’m about to inflict,” Burns snickered to herself at her own joke, the others joining in before getting back to business.

“Burns, Ella, go scope out the cafeteria for some good food because I can’t kill in good faith on an empty stomach and as me and Ella say, we always get food first,” Anything but Krista said, turning her attention to the two people left, throwing them both a knife. Then proceeded to stab Owen numerous times, but making sure not to hit any major organs yet.

“We need a blender,” Anitah with the h announced.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Anything but Krista and MAROE said at the same time, looking at each other and bursting into laughter at the jinx.

“If that was making a human smoothie, then yes. We’ll show him that no one messes with Derek Christopher Shepherd,” Anitah with the h said smugly, pulling a blender out from behind her back and plugging it into the wall.

“You...you pulled that out of your jacket?” MAROE asked in a surprising tone.

“Y’all don’t keep blenders in yours?” Anitah with the h asked as if that wasn’t common, but it was good to know that she was always prepared.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie came to life, “Team Bears/Rams to Team CA, what y’all want from here? Over and out.”

“Team CA to Team Bears/Rams, we want CookOut. Over and out.” Anything but Krista responded. “It’s about time y’all tried a little piece of heaven,” she looked at Anitah with the h and MAROE.

“That’s a negative ghost rider, the closest CookOut is on the other side of the country. Over and out.”

“Well you better get on your way because you two also need to try a little piece of heaven, we’ll save the good stuff for when you get back. Over and out.” The trio resumed their slice and dice game, taking a short break to play Choices because the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair had just been released and even Owen wasn’t going to keep them away from Sam Dalton.

A couple hours later, Burns and Ella arrived with the food, handing out their respective trays to their respective orderers, they were able to keep the milkshakes from melting by their cold hearts.

“Ahhh gimme my milkshake,” Anything but Krista snatched it from Burns’ hand, earning a slap on her hand from her adoptive mother and a threat of taking away her pony...again.

“Yooo this shake hits different,” Ella exclaimed.

“You could even say that it slaps,” MAROE added making her squeak.

“It’s the one good thing North Carolina has to offer for me,” Anything but Krista chimed in, fist bumping Anitah with the h because the struggle was real. The cows really did outnumber the people, they just hoped that there wouldn’t be a cow revolution because that would be awful except the yeehaw folk would probably survive since they did have a song called “A Country Boy Can Survive.” 

“Burns, we left you the honor of picking the perfect weather for us to dispose of the body which is more like liquid at this point. We need rain, thunder, and lightning to erase all of the evidence. Watching “Forensic Files” has finally come in handy. And Ella, we need you to pretend to be a nurse or something to help us get out of here. I’ll be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead…” Anything but Krista admitted, but they expected that from her so they already had a plan in place.

“If anyone happens to see Derek Shepherd, I ask that you tell me,” MAROE added.

“Not if I find him first,” Anything but Krista said.

“He’s like fifty four years old…” Burns said being ever the good adoptive mother.

“Then I call Spencer Reid!” Anything but Krista exclaimed.

“I have Lucifer then,” MAROE challenged knowing that would get under her skin. 

“Children, calm yourselves.” Burns shook her head.

“Hey, I’ll be eighteen in like a number amount of months,” Anything but Krista said.

“I’ll be eighteen before you,” MAROE said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’Ll Be EiGhTeEn BeFoRe YoU,” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips and doing that Spongebob meme. After thinking of a better comeback, she grabbed her knife she used on Owen earlier and plunged it into MAROE’s back.

“Et tu, Brute?” MAROE said with shock in her voice before her body crumpled on the ground.

“Yes, bye bitch.”

The other three just stared as the blood drained from her body before turning their attention to Anything but Krista. They were the epitome of 👁👄👁.

“What? She wanted to “due” anyway. And at her funeral we can play “To Be So Lonely” because well she will be lol.”

“Anywaysss, we gonna get food or what?” Ella asked as she covered Owen’s body with a sheet.

“Wings?” Burns suggested and they all agreed. After arriving at the restaurant, they were very shocked to see MAROE sitting at a table waiting for them.

“It’s the trying to kill me for me,” she said upon taking their seats, glaring at Anything But Krista specifically.

“It’s the stealing my fictional husbands for me,” she retaliated.

“It’s the acting like children for me,” Burns' authoritative voice came.

“Sorry,” they both murmured as they looked over the menus to order their food. The rest of their lunch going smoothly, their victims already forgotten about. Don’t mess with hangry chicks who hate Owent Cunt.

“So who’s next?” Anitah with the h asked.

“Ahh you’ve gotten the first taste of blood and now you’re addicted,” Burns observed. She would make for a good profiler for the FBI at Quantico. She would have a cool nickname; Cunt Punter.

“Why not just kill everyone we hate?” Ella questioned.

“That’s a great idea! I say we kill Guy and Vanessa,” Anything but Krista suggested.

“And Landrat!” MAROE added, the whole group agreeing, finishing their lunch before getting to their killing spree.

Gertrude-Sue was laughing at her made up characters and story when she received an email from Ethonk Remy to send him a folder that she had. Goggle Drive was acting stupid so she didn’t realize that she had shared her fanfiction folder with her boss before it was too late. She saw a little giraffe pop up in the right hand corner telling her that he was already viewing what was inside the folder.

“Holy donkey claws,” she cried out loud, smacking her hands against her face.

Meanwhile, Ethonk was going through her folder when he came across a document and his eyes went wide. “What are they doing with the dog?” He said to himself.

Wonder pets, wonder pets

We're on our way

To help a friend and save the day

We're not too big

And we're not too tough

But when we work together, we've got the right stuff

Gooo wonder pets yaaaaay!

The phone

The phone is ringing

The phone

We'll be right there

The phone

The phone is ringing

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble somewhere

“What the hell are Wonder Pets?” He continued inspecting the different documents ranging from murder of one Owen Cunt, horses having sexual intercourse, Wonder Pets stuff, four kids and a dog where they did questionable things with each other, a sponge and a starfish were high on marijuana, a game where Gertrude-Sue had made him and her a family that looked way too realistic for his liking, two bunnies who kept hopping around with one of their little brothers, and multiple documents about Matthew Gray Gubler, Tom Holland, Tom Ellis, Patrick Dempsey, and Harry Styles which were all quite disturbing.

He took out his phone to call her. “Hey uh, Gert, what is this?”

“Oh well you see, the funny thing is that I accidentally sent you the wrong folder so if you could just pretend like this never happened, that would be fantastic. Okay thanks bye. I’m sending you the right one this time.” And she hung up, ready to throw herself off a cliff at her stupidity.

One thing was for sure, she would never make this mistake again.

[astrologista]

jason stop dying

ooooook i just watched ditf. it was PRETTY GOOD.... i only wish there was MOOORE! watching this REALLY brought me back to 2011 times to see it and i think they did a good job with most of the character design and animations insofar as matching it to the original. (maybe i’m totally wrong but i thought it looked good for the most part... also i just really love these character designs in particular). obviously the budget is not what it would be on a feature, so there are a LOT of places where animation gets recycled and many still frames. some parts are basically a slideshow lol. but i only sort of came to that realization awhile after watching, so i think they did a fairly good job of masking this... ymmv

so let’s get into it!!! 

SPOILERS a-head! do not read until you’ve watched it because i’ll spoil everything

now obviously the thing to be aware of if you are not is the fact that this adaptation is not a panel-by-panel adaptation of the original death in the family comic. all references to jason’s mother (save one mention of her dying of illness) are completely removed, they go to bosnia instead of africa, and the circumstances around jason leaving are also heavily altered to fit the new narrative. this adaptation does slot perfectly into the universe established by the under the red hood animated movie from 2011 though, without which one would be pretty confused when watching this. it’s kind of a mystery as to why they didn’t just package this with utrh and release the entire thing as a collectors edition. instead they package it with like 4 or 5 unrelated dc showcase shorts which makes absolutely 0 sense but go off i guess. anyway

i liked that they took the time to adapt the scene from the original ditf where bruce is talking to alfred about jason! (i do not like that alfred didn’t get any lines. bad choice). tbh i can’t understand why they bothered showing us alfred, barbara and dick if they weren’t gonna give them any lines..... like come on........??

HOW INTENSE BRUCE LOOKS WHEN HE FINDS JASON IN SARAJEVO and just. grabs him lol. hes smad :)

ok so one two skip a few and we get to the first branch. instead of calling 1-900 we now get to choose whether jason lives or dies. there are 7 possible endings i think i got em all so let’s see what we got here.

“Hush” Route - Robin cheats death

hgrgdggr. i definitely think this is one of the more interesting endings, if not the most interesting one. this is also the only ending in which both bruce and jason survive the bombing. bruce is still too late, but this time jason barely clings to life and survives. as a hurt/comfort fan i was 100% on this shit from the word go but then jason? runs away from home lmao lmao i thought that was SO funny because 1) hes super messed up, how is he able to just literally run out the house that is SO funny to me and 2) implying that bruce would ever not be keeping an eye on him after that is just, lmao. it’s so zany. i call this the “hush” route because of the bandages but there are no other references to hush so ok. that’s fair. so anyway jason is now angsty for loosely explained reasons but the most fun part is yet to come.

when talia showed up, i really thought / was terrified for a second that they were gonna bring up certain “events” regarding damian’s parentage / who damian’s father is but then she mentioned bruce and i was like OH THANK GOD WE CAN STILL GO TO HEAVEN. i am so so grateful to the writers for NOT going there. cuz it was damn close ok. im not sure what the implication of this route is in terms of talia, jason and damian being a family unit but i want to believe talia sees jason as a son and damian’s brother (which is how she refers to him, damian’s brother) and not... yknow. i mean. jason raising a baby is kind of like a baby raising a baby...

no actually the reality of this scene is really dfuckin interesting like. they actually go with the “birth of the demon” (forget if it was birth of the demon or bride of the demon. one of those.) explanation for damian and that is something i’ve NEVER seen adapted so whoever wrote this can have a cookie and i kNOW this is something a certain someone will appreciate :)

not only that but the implications? are interesting? so talia’s claim is she miscarried so bruce won’t have to “choose” between damian and jason and idk if she’s supposed to be all on the-up-and-up in this universe but. i’m sitting here like GIRL YOU DON’T GOTTA DO THIS HE HAS A PRIVATE JET HAVEN’T YOU HEARD OF SHARED CUSTODY and BETTER YET HE HAS A MANSION JUST GO ON MAURY AND GET THIS SORTED OUT RIGHT NOWwwww

i’m also LAUGHING at the implications of jason thinking theres anywhere on earth that he’s going to go and hide damian’s existence from bruce. because you already know he’s just going to be tearing the planet apart looking for jason so this is actually hilarious. imagine he finds jason in one piece and also a baby. his baby. he’d be like (@ talia) “OMG WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WOULDN’T WANT THEM BOTH u are tearing me apart talia......” BUT THEN HE WOULD BE SO FREAKING HAPPY BECAUSE HE HAS TWO ALIVE SONS AND HE THOUGHT THEY WERE BOTH DEAD / (lost to crime)!!!

please lord imagine all of jason’s angst probably just originating from the fact that he has a brain injury that hasn’t fully healed and the trauma of going through all those surgeries probably gave him a lot of fear / paranoia about bruce and associating him with the joker because his neural pathways are all messed up but after he leaves he starts slowly healing back and regaining some of his lost sanity and thats when he realizes he misses bruce so much... but hes also raising his child... and every day it gets more difficult for him not to just take damian and bring him home and i ;v;

anyway i thought this route, while it had a few inconsistencies in it, was really freaking interesting and it gave me feels and plot bunnies and is probably the one i want to write about the MOST despite the fact that baby damian looks like a character from one of those web flash games in this lol

“True” End - Jason Dies

now if you select that jason dies the route basically defaults to the canon of under the red hood and the fact that utrh does not come packaged with this movie is a rather mystifying choice to me as i don’t think this adaptation would stand on its own very well. like you need quite a bit of background to really get anything out of watching this on its own, which is probably why it’s classified as a “short” and not as its own movie.

instead of showing all of utrh, it seems they took the opportunity to give a ~30 minute recap of utrh with basically entirely reused animation but they allow bruce to sort of. give his dvd commentary over it.

the biggest feeling i have on this is that it’s sad that they had to waste 30 minutes like this that could’ve been used to do something new and much more interesting, but honestly i’m not mad. it seems kind of obvious that this choice was probably made for budget and/or runtime reasons because a short does not get the same budget set aside as a full length feature film does. so they basically took the option of recycling 30 minutes of animation from the movie and dubbing new audio over it.

in evangelion they ran out of budget and that’s why the last two episodes consist of nothing more than still pencil drawings and frames while the characters engage in philosophical debates concerning the nature of reality and human connection. and i really enjoyed that. and for the same reasons, i also really enjoyed this.

i enjoyed seeing the clark kent of this universe. i enjoyed that he was basically out on a date with bruce. i enjoyed that bruce was willing to open up for once and tell clark all of what happened with jason. but what really makes this segment shine bright are bruce greenwood’s line reads. there are SO MANY good line reads in here. and i LOVED how many times he said the word “son”. very wholesome. the way he describes how he felt during the final fight with jason? probs my favorite FUCKING part.

and then him and clark joking together about contingency plans and then they’re going to work together to find jason and i ;_; this is probably the closest thing to a “good” ending but as a continuation of utrh i thought it worked really well. i really want to believe that bruce and clark did find jason in this route and that there was some closure in the end even though we didn’t get to see it.

including clark in this was DEFINITELY the right move as well, considering that he played a rather large role in the original ditf so it’s a welcome nod.

The rest of the branches exist under a separate option where Bruce makes it in time to save Jason from the warehouse... but Bruce dies......... :O

let me tell you bout it... bruce’s fucking DEATH SCENE i don’t know WHAT my man bruce greenwood is on, but the freaking LINE READS in this dialogue had me making INHUMAN NOISES. LIKE NOT ONLY WAS THE DIALOGUE GOOD, NOT ONLY DID HE SAY “I LOVE YOU, SON”, but this man is just an amazing actor. not just voice actor, but actor. he really really really really gave it the most i don’t know how else to say it....... it was very very well done and punched me sideways in the heart and i haven’t recovered and i’m not going to recover. and

ok so once we get past that.... scene.... u have to choose whether you’re going to catch the joker or kill the joker. bruce asks jason to promise not to kill the joker but technically jason doesn’t promise so........

Let’s start by choosing to kill the Joker. Jason attends Bruce’s funeral and various members of the Justice League show up to talk with him and just generally hang out. He has Alfred, Dick and Barbara as his support system, but Jason has some other plans.

This leads to a scene in a cafe where Jason meets with a man who... something something Killing Joke, flashlight, more Barbara being used as a plot device when she deserves better, Jason kills the Joker with a butter knife.

Once you do this you can choose to surrender to the police, or retaliate and escape.

Jailbird Ending

basically if you surrender to the police jason ends up in prison where he can actually attack even more criminals so.... ya

If you retaliate and escape instead you go to the Red Robin route where Jason becomes a vigilante who kills people much like the Red Hood and you get a further choice in a fight with Two Face where you can control how Harvey’s coin lands. 

Tim Ending!

If you choose the coin to land clean face up, the thing rewards you by having Tim show up and I forgot what happened (wasn’t really paying attention lol) because i was so focused on TIM!

Prolly they felt sorry for him what with Jason stealing what is essentially his outfit (ok I know it was Jason’s first, but Tim made it cool) so they let a little baby tim have an appearance :) he’s very smol

I guess in this ending Jason gets reintegrated with the family somehow and Tim becomes “Bat-kid” which is hilarious to me but you know what it’s cute. CUTE.

The one ending where the coin lands scarred side up

i honestly forget what happens if you choose to have the coin land scarred side up but let me just say this is a FUCKED route to take, not only have you had jason survive and bruce die, you’ve now chosen to kill the joker against bruce’s dying wish, you’ve chosen to attack the police, and at the end of that you really are gonna choose harvey’s coin to be scarred face up???? choosing this made me feel like a DICK because here i am supporting jason’s whole fall to madness and villainy thing the way it wants me to and now he’s gonna die HERE? i hate it here.

interestingly enough he doesn’t actually die in this route. he ends up at home with barbara and dick while dealing with the fact that he killed the joker but the route ends with jason saying “i promise” so i guess this is supposed to be kinda sad. im so confused lol ok

So that is all the options if you choose to kill the joker, I believe. You can also make the choice to just catch him instead of killing him but amazingly enough, those routes are even more FUCKED up. 

If you do this option Jason goes home, mourns Bruce with Dick, Barbara and Alfred, and becomes Red Hood BUT with a twist, he’s entirely on a bloodless operation in line with Bruce’s wishes. OR.... IS HE?

Things then follow the events of UTRH until the scene on the bridge with the van and the guys. Jason finally confronts Joker, who reveals the truth. 

Apparently in this route Jason has actually been killing and decapitating his victims just like in the original movie, but he’s repressed it so as to not even realize to himself that he’s doing it.

that is FUCKED. also. i wanna cry because jason doing all of that stuff but not even realizing it ;------; jason blocking it out, because he wanted to honor bruce’s wishes for him not to kill anyone ;______; but he’s doing it anyway ;_____; he’s actually hearing voices telling him to kill ;____; like it’s a very cheap twist in a sense and also really quite cruel but.... damn, son.

There is a branch here where you can choose to spare or kill the Joker at this point (UNDERTALE???) but from what I can tell it seems to be totally meaningless what choice you pick because you end up at the exact same point either way, I think there’s a small variation in what happens after you make the choice but after that they just coalesce back together into the following two endings. Which seems incredibly cheap to me, I mean making a choice like that should alter Jason’s path completely but, it doesn’t! So... ooook....

Either way Jason ends up on the Wayne building and Talia shows up with a re-animated Bruce from the pit. Here’s another fun blast from the 2011 past with more gratuitous Grant Morrison dreck, remember that shit? Well, they’re gonna jam it down your throat here, too.

The reanimated Bruce is the Zur En Arrh Bruce and he’s already dead so this is all meaningless but basically Jason fights him and you get to choose whether everybody lives or dies.

Zur En Arrh - Everyone Lives!

if you pick this, jason actually gets the re-animated bruce back to the batcave and they lock him up down there because he’s still pit-mad and the prognosis is not great. but i’m not sure what they expected, he is the zur-en-arrh guy so I don’t think he’s getting better. 

Zur En Arrh - Everyone Dies!

pretty much there’s an explosion and all three of them die and that’s it

I think that should be all the possible endings there are.

By the way the different ways in which black mask dies in this was actually a fairly clever running gag lollll. let that mf burn we don’t need no water.

overall there are a couple of things i would have done to SIGNIFICANTLY improve this adaptation beyond some of the obvious ones.

- the fact that all of the branching options are branched exclusively under the “jason lives and bruce dies” branch is a huge wasted opportunity. imo this is the most egregious problem with this, i was really looking for a more balanced tree / explanation of different things. i am probably super biased though being a fic writer and used to fic, we’re the ones making huge ass trees every day lol.

- the fact that there is no “good” ending here is something i kind of expected but given the context of this is lackluster. i sort of get it though because granted, the original ditf ends in an unresolved manner but it’s distinctly unsatisfying here. i secretly wanted an ending where bruce, like, figures out about the different endings and hacks reality to try to find a good ending where jason lives and everything is fine lmao. like a bat mite ending.

- i was disappointed in a sense that the narrative given in here is so basically simplistic? maybe i’ve been spoiled by games like 999 and undertale where shit gets messy and that’s not what this is supposed to be but when i play something with multiple endings in this day and age, at least play with the concept a little bit and connect some of the branches together narratively. use different devices. i was also hoping some of the choices would be a little bit meatier like you could choose to “forgive bruce” or something cool like that lol. but it looks like the majority of choices have to do with who lives or dies. and i felt like they couldve been a bit more creative with that ya know? being able to control harvey’s coin was a GREAT example of having some more fun with this.

- it is a huge missed opportunity not to have a “secret ending” on something like this. like where. the fuck. is my secret ending for completing everything. come on. and in a similar vein there should’ve been at least something in terms of bruce and jason interacting in a “true ending”. even if very brief. the closest thing to an ending this has is the “jason died” route and then the ending where he’s talking to clark which i feel like was a REALLY nice good optimistic ending as far as this goes, but it comes off as kind of disappointing i guess

there were SO many interesting nuggets locked into this thing though. i can’t deny it bugs me how many wasted opportunities there were with how they chose to structure things but i guess it’s the best you can do with limited runtime. i thought it was really well done though, makes an interesting companion piece to the original utrh, and is definitely something that i will be re-watching again soon!! overall i give it a 7/10 and some parts an 8/10+!

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt8

Part 7 - Masterlist

Part 9

This is somehow only 3800 words long, possibly because I killed three pages of flashback and squished it into a handful of paragraphs. BUT there’s no in game script this time (hooray!) so hopefully will be a bit more of a fun read.

Gentle reminder that the only reason I’m still writing this discarded one shot is because @memekingofwwiii and @artisticpoet replied to the original post three months ago. Any feedback always goes a long way, and if you wish this project had died back at the beginning, you have them to blame #sorrynotsorry

***

“Miss LN, if you do not quit your incessant pacing, I will tie you to the mill stone in Rhodes and rent you out as a donkey!”

Your apology is empty and Miss Grimshaw’s scowl tells you she knows it. Hosea folds down the paper, pressing precisely over the creases before setting it aside. “They won’t be long now, I’m sure of it.”

O’Driscoll’s had intercepted Mr Pearson on his way to Rhodes with the message that Colm was proposing a truce. They claimed it was better to rally together as a dying species than to let the Pinkertons pick off smaller groups fighting amongst themselves.

That wasn't your primary concern. The thought of the O’Driscoll’s so close to camp rattled you, and shook Kieran like an oversized jelly. There was a chance they wouldn’t see through your altered appearance and you could slip past them, but for Kieran who rode with them for two months... To be shot on sight would be a mercy, and both of you knew that that wasn’t the O’Driscoll way.

Dutch announced that as doubtful as the proposition was, he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to put the past behind him. Assigning Micah as his number two and Arthur as back up, the trio rode out of camp despite the shaking heads and words of disapproval.

“We’ve been in worse situations before and got out of it,” continues Hosea, his bright eyes tired. “Arthur’s the best shot in camp. He’ll take care of any trouble before it starts.”

You hum in acknowledgement before dismissing yourself. You haven’t told anyone about the vibrantly vivid dreams you’ve been having. Abigail has told you in the past that she had them a lot whilst expecting Jack, something to do with the raging hormones, but you can’t shake the dread that’s become sediment in the bottom of your heart. There is something about the way Dream Micah is relentless in his beatings... the way he sneers at every missed punch from Dream Arthur… the shine of moonlight on the infamous double action revolver with its custom black and red grip, and the flicker of fire highlighting the etching Vengeance is hereby mine. To know Arthur is out there with Micah’s only cheerleader is unsettling to say the least. What if it’s not the chaos of change? What if these dreams are a premonition?

You shake the thought of Dutch’s polished boots crushing Arthur’s outstretched fingers from your mind. A dream, you tell yourself firmly. A dream and nothing more.

Stripping to your undergarments, you wade out into the lake in search of a distraction. There’s an island not too far from shore. You could be alone with your thoughts there if you took the boat out, or even if one of the horses wanted to take a swim, but the nagging in your stomach has tied a knot to the centre of the camp. You can’t wander far for fear of the Dream Arthur’s beaten corpse welcoming you back.

“Miss Thomas, I-” Kieran squawks loudly from the shoreline, staring up awkwardly into the evening sky. You sigh and retreat enough to stay underwater whilst remaining within earshot. “I-I’m sorry, M-Miss, I didn’t think you was- that you were-!”

“It’s fine, Kieran. Pass me the towel on that rock?” He obliges, eyes still scouring the heavens like a lost monk until you’ve tied it around your waist and shrugged on one of Arthur’s old shirts. “You heard something?”

“Should I have? Oh, about Arthur and Dutch. They ain’t back yet. I was- I was just wanting to, erm, to check how you was feelin’ with the whole… Colm... thing.”

You consider lying. It would be an appetising distraction to feed him a cool indifferent nature and watch him squirm in paranoia, however you’re not sure how much longer you can fight the burn of madness at the edge of your mind. 

“Scared shitless,” you admit eventually, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards despite your best efforts. “Not even for Arthur being gone, but… if they know. If they know the truth, or if they find out about…” Your fingers touch the soft curve of your stomach. “About Arthur and... I don’t know what I’ll do. What we can do.”

Kieran nods quietly, clearing his throat as his eyes dart over the shore, like a rabbit catching the scent of coyotes on the wind. “Colm burns through men like cigars, but Lord knows what them O’Driscoll boys’ll do if they get their hands on us.”

“We’ll be dead if we’re lucky,” you mumble, turning a smooth pebble in your hands before skimming it over the water. “The lucky ones… they go quick.”

You can feel his gaze burning into the side of your skull, but you try to keep your posture indifferent. You know what he’s going to ask before he even inhales.

“What happened with Peader? Was it quick or…?”

“Quick.” You skim another stone as your heart battles its way into your throat. You don’t have the energy to feign ignorance this time. “I made sure of that.”

“What- what he do?”

Shadows move around the camp, indifferent to your whereabouts. Taking a deep breath, you begin to tell the story honestly, hoping that perhaps if you acknowledge and repent your sin out loud, whatever God there is out there will return Arthur to you.

You tell him about meeting Peader in a quiet saloon on the outskirts of Blackwater - a place where even the cobwebs had moved on in anticipation for the new place opening on the main road. How Peader swooped in, landing on a chair opposite you, his grin brighter than a beacon from his day drinking.

“Yull never guess the shit I just got us. A boat with a shit tonne o’ gold is docking here end o’ this week. Minimum security, no guards, easy pickings. Can you believe it?”

“No,” you scoff, stifling a yawn. “Ain’t no such thing.”

“Tha’s what I said, but this feller I was talkin’ to was from the bank. He was sayin’ that it'd be the steal of the century if anyone pulled it off. They’d tried hiring security, but no one was taking ‘em up on it. Said it was travelling too far, was too high risk of being hit, so they decided to play it all poker like and just send the ferry anyways.”

“And you trust this feller?”

“Sure, as much as anyone else I meet on the street.”

“How’d you know he isn’t setting us up? Or that he really works for the bank?”

“Bastard was dressed up all fancy. Had the same chain on his waistcoat you see ‘em all wearing and the stupid twirly moustache. Ain’t many jobs that afford a man a belly like his. He reeked of paper and safe codes, trust me.”

You tell Kieran how the saloon was empty apart from the bartender and a man catching a nap in a booth across the room, neglecting to mention the way his white hat sat low over his eyes and the thick blond handlebar moustache twitching in sleep. You do tell him the details of the job - that Peader reckoned you’d need at least five men to carry the gold, plus a couple more for shooting. You even tell him when the ferry docked - a date black on your tongue - and how your panic was exacerbated with rising frustration when Peader began to bite back at your doubt, accusing you of doubting him, of stealing the credit for past jobs he’d arranged.

“Obviously some other outlaws got wind of the same tip you did. It’s not the first time we’ve crossed paths with folk like us - and with the law tightening up the way it is, of course we’re gonna start stepping on each other’s toes-”

“Look, I get you have your day trips or mini vacations and the like. I get you’re a good shot an’ all, but you’ve gotta stop lyin’ to me! Knocking me out and keeping the take for yourself-”

“There was no take, Peter, because I was hauling your heavy ass out of their way! Them Van der Linde’s are a better shot than either of us, an’ between a few dollars and a can of vegetables or an extra gun at my side, I’ll choose the latter every time.”

You take a deep breath to slow your quaking heart and keep your emotions from getting the better of you. Your voice cracks as you recall following your friend outside for him to tell you Colm had come by camp earlier that week asking for you. His black eyes fiery, the stubble on his face uneven from his last shave... The proper use of his given name was lost on the wind whistling over the plains, because Colm had personally promoted you. You, who had no prior experience with weaponry before Peader took the time to show you. 

Your vision fades to black. The panic, the total contrast to your good friend, everything accumulates to cast darkness over your sight. You know this can only end one way, and it’s too painful to consider. The pearl grip in your hand is cool at first touch, but quickly grows hot as your ears ring with bullets fired.

The stallion rears and bolts west of town.

Kieran must realise he’s openly gawping as he quickly clears his throat. “W-was that the same ferry these fellers hit?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Guess the idiot that told Peter didn’t keep his trap shut.”

“I heard he was working with them Pinkertons?”

You shrug sadly. “I might have… twisted the truth a little when Colm asked about him. Made it sound like he was a snitch… with hindsight he would have got us all killed, but he knew too much about me. Suddenly, with Colm asking after me, he had motive to dig deeper and find out the truth. I couldn’t risk it.”

You catch Kieran’s hand hesitating in the corner of your eye, before he decides the comfort would be improper and instead puts it back into his own lap. “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss. Sometimes we gotta make choices an’... an’ we just have to live with what comes afterward.”

You hum in agreement. Kieran takes a deep breath, clearly about to say something else, when you hear a horse whinny in the distance. Apologising hastily, you jump to your feet, relief flooding you as you hurry back up onto the grass in time to see the Count and Baylock trotting in with their owner’s sat tall astride them.

“So?” calls Hosea from the front of the crowd gathered by the hitching posts.

Dutch shakes his head once, sighing. “We ain’t got shot at least.”

Your ears strain for further movement, your stomach dropping every passing second as the chill of your recurring nightmare creeps down your spine. “Where’s Arthur?” 

“Calm down, Guinevere, he’s probably off doin’ somethin’ or other.” Micah smiles all smarmy. “Probably watchin’ our backs, being the little hero that he is. He’ll be back before long.”

Hosea mirrors your frown of concern. “You ain’t seen him?”

“He’ll be fine, Hosea,” Dutch sighs, waving his hand dismissively as he strolls back to the large white tent on the shore. “He always is.”

You shiver violently. Arthur never lets the group disperse after a job until everyone is accounted for. One night after a few too many bottles of whisky, Karen had told you how Arthur had to be all but dragged from Blackwater during their hasty retreat into Ambarino. Eventually Dutch had ordered him to scout ahead for somewhere to camp so that they didn’t need to worry about losing their sharpest shooter to any law catching up to them.

You pull yourself away and head back to the waters, trying to hear any gunshots or further movement beneath Hosea’s continued dispute.

“I see Micah and Dutch are back?” You shrug at Kieran’s hesitant observation. “I’m sure he’s fine. You seen him with a gun?”

You drop the towel and sink your head under the water as soon as you’re able to, effectively ending the conversation. When your head next breaks the surface, Kieran is gone and your towel is folded neatly in his place.

You don’t sleep that night. You can’t sleep. Despite the luxury of space for your expanding body and the warm Lemoyne air acting as a blanket in its own right, you’re still unable to rest without his body heat, without the weight of his arm around you, pressing against your back, the itch of facial hair on your exposed skin.

Every little movement has you sat up expectantly. There is no need for privacy without Arthur’s preference for hidden intimacies, so you’ve rolled up every wall of your tent to keep lookout. The fires in camp are dying down to ash as Micah caresses his knife with sandpaper nearby.

“Yes, Miss LN?” Micah smirks. “Can I help you?”

“What have you done?” Your voice is barely a whisper. Micah’s breathy laugh matches your volume - the most manners he has shown you since you met.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Where is Arthur?” You’re stood behind him, your fists shaking at your side as you try to contain the terror of the unknown. “You must know something.”

“Guinevere, I’m sure your white knight will make an appearance eventually.” Shaking his head, he chuckles and turns back to the wisps of burning ash. “I mean, unless another princess has taken his attention. What’s her name? Maggie? Molly?” He throws you another look over his shoulder. “Or was it the queen that took off with someone else? I ain’t ever really had the patience for fairy stories myself.”

“He wouldn’t just disappear!” you argue, setting aside your confusion at his jibes. “This is Arthur. What did he say after you left Colm?”

“He told me he needed a little less mollycoddling from his baby carrier.” He scoffs, his pale grey eyes meeting yours in the last of the light. “How do I know? It ain’t no secret we ain’t the closest of buddies. Maybe he’s done a John and got cold feet, hmm? Now leave me alone!”

When the sun eventually rises, you pull your blouse and skirts over your underclothes without bothering to wash. With a fist full of pins to fix your hair out of your face, you hurry over to where Miss Molly is applying a faceful of powders.

“Jesus wept!” she gasps, stepping back as though your dishevelment was contagious. “What happened to you?”

Looking up at the interruption, Dutch marks his page and sits up. “Something the matter, Miss?”

“Arthur’s still not back.”

He rolls his eyes, body relaxing and book already reopened with his finger finding where he left off. “When you’ve known Arthur as long as I have-”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t disappear for days, I just want to know what happened after you saw Colm.”

“Why? Has your escape plan backfired?” The thick moustache twitches in fake humour. “Maybe your O’Driscoll charm has paid off and Arthur’s switched sides, taking your place as Colm’s number two.”

“Arthur would never betray you like that,” you argue, but the flash in the leader’s eyes makes you question the degree of betrayal felt when you were brought into camp. “You all rode off together. You must have seen him leave to cover for you? What happened when you met back up?”

“He’d already left, Y/N. It was clearly far too underwhelming for him. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a little quiet. Some of us still have to earn our keep, you know.”

Not wanting to waste energy on a force as strong as Dutch, you busy yourself with chores. You feed the chickens, you feed the horses, you darn socks, all whilst watching the treeline. Even Miss Grimshaw’s fury cannot stir you away from the outskirts, and so by midday, with confidence in your position as most detested in camp, your decision proves easy.

“Kieran, do you have a spare saddle?”

The jittery head snapped up, gaping at you. “Going out, Miss?”

“To look for Arthur. I’ll be back, I promise.”

“You can’t go alone, Miss, especially not- not in your condition.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, no small feat with your lack of sleep. “I looked after myself before, and I can look after myself again.”

“Mr Morgan will kill me if anything were to happen to you.” He licks his lips, his hands wringing the corner of his jacket. “Lemme grab somebody to go with you-”

“Kieran I said I’m fine!”

“I- I- I can come. Jus’ gimme a minute to saddle up Branwen.” He’s itching with anxiety. “Shit, I don’t wanna think what Mr Van der Linde will do if we go off together.”

“Something wrong?” Charles watches you both closely as he pauses his stroll back from guard duty.

"Arthur’s not back yet. I’m going to look for him.”

His gaze slides over to Kieran, then shakes his head. “I’ll come with you. It’s best you stay here, Kieran - one missing O’Driscoll is less concerning than two.”

“A-Are you sure, Mr Smith?” The relief is palpable. “Then Y/N take Branwen. She’ll do you right.”

You try to keep your tics of impatience internalized whilst the men fix the horses. Hosea seems to be watching you in the distance. You almost believe he gives you a nod before acting as a distraction to Dutch, allowing you to lead Branwen out of camp behind Charles and Taima.

“Do you know where they met with them?”

You shake your head clear, digging your heels in to ride up alongside your companion. “The Heartlands, I think, but I don’t know the exact location. Can’t be further than Valentine.”

“I think you’re right about Valentine - there’s no real vantage point past Emerald Ranch. Dutch talked like Arthur was a surprise, so he would probably need a good hiding spot with a clear view.”

“Must be further out than Dewberry Creek… they wouldn’t have taken so long to get back.”

Charles hums in agreement. “Let’s head that way anyway and get up on a ridge. There’s a whisky tree with quite the view, might help us narrow our search.”

A long silence stretches between you. It would have been comfortable if it weren’t for the intrusive thoughts, the ghost of imaginary gunpowder tainting your nostrils, the burning images of Dutch’s boot crushing his outstretched fingers…

Just a dream.

You arrive at the summit and draw your binoculars, scouting the horizon, desperately trying to pick between each grain of dirt.

“I reckon we should take each of these points.” Charles gestures to each summit on the horizon. “If we take them one by one, we’re sure to overlap their meeting point, and maybe find some clues.”

You mumble in agreement, chewing on your lip as he focuses his strong brown gaze on you.

“Did Arthur say something about this to you?” he asks finally.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been on edge pretty much since they mounted up… Is everything alright between you?”

You laugh, albeit shakily, at the prospect of something coming between you. “We’re fine. I just keep having some real bad dreams and... “ You exhale loudly. “I’d feel better if I knew where he was.”

Charles nods and doesn’t press for details. He’s like Arthur that way - unwilling to speak unless necessary. You let the silence coddle you again as you descend and re-ascend another peak.

“Y/N!”

You hurry to him at the first syllable of your name, cursing the ache of your muscles slowing you down. Charles is crouched by the rocky edge, examining the ground closely.

“Reckon this could be our man?” he asks, gesturing at the disturbed dirt. Yes, you realise, it very well could be. The length of the disturbance was almost Arthur’s height - especially if he had rested on his elbows to watch over. You try to picture his broad shoulders and envisage the same broad distance.

Could there have been a scuffle? There’s not enough disturbance for him to have leaned back onto his knees and stood up - one of the arms is smudged, like he had rolled over. The inconsistencies in the outline… had he stood up and walked all over where he had been lying, or was someone else here?

Charles seems to share your doubts as he points out the multiple horse tracks. “Either this spot is popular with the locals, or there’s been a group here in the past couple of days.”

“Dutch and Micah split off earlier down the track - Arthur came up here alone.”

Charles hums again, fanning the panic in your gut. “Did they meet up again afterwards?”

“Did they hell!” you scowl. “Neither of them would tell me what happened after they parted ways.”

Charles sighs, mounting Taima gracefully. “The tracks seem to double down this way.”

You follow, enveloped again in the silence bar your thudding heart. At the bottom, you find an old camp. Charles decides it’s about a day old. You don’t really say much before spotting the blood not much further away. Alarm bells are ringing and you’re feeling faint.

I guess I saw you an’ the mess I might leave you in one day.

“Y/N?” Charles’ round face surfaces before your eyes, his forehead furrowing. “Are you alright? Here, I have some water…”

“They got him, didn’t they?” You can feel your stomach turning, but you haven’t eaten since they left the day before. “The blood - it’s Arthur’s, isn’t it?”

“Could be animal’s blood,” counters Charles calmly. “They might have set up camp nearby to save carrying the carcass.”

You try to stand, determined to keep searching, but Charles holds you down by your shoulder. “Rest. Kieran was right - Arthur won’t be happy if he finds you in this state.”

“Provided he comes back!” you argue, but you can feel the world spinning around you. As if already aware about your lack of sustenance, Charles pushes a bread roll into your hand, and you begin to eat wordlessly.

“Are you strong enough to ride?” he asks eventually.

You nod, brushing crumbs from your clothes as you look out towards the setting sun. “How far do you reckon they’ve got?”

“We’re going back to camp.” You whisk around ready to protest, but Charles steadies you easily. “Falling off your horse is one thing, but it’s completely different when you're carrying a child. I’ll come back for him, but for now let’s get you safe and pick up some reinforcements.”

You reluctantly agree, even if it’s just for the way your mind rattles as he helps you mount up. Charles rides close beside you, ready to grab you when you sway too precariously. The ride back is much slower than the ride out.

Hold on, Arthur. They’re coming.