#baby me is finally allowed into the fandom and that is dangerous as hell

[xf-cases-solved]

i am aware that this is likely not a new take at all, and i'm not like, claiming it as mine, but i never had the chance to have this opinion (or hear other ppl have this opinion) on a public forum before, so i just want to take this opportunity to say to another person, possibly for the first time with the exception of mb my mother, who is no longer here to agree with me, that "existence" came out when i was 8 years old, i watched it live, and literally the day i watched it i remember thinking to myself "why did they have a boy named william? they should have had a girl named samantha. OF COURSE they should have had a girl named samantha," like it felt so obvious to me

and tho i couldn't rly articulate it this clearly at the time, my little muddy 8 year old thought process was that the entire story of the xfiles starts with samantha, right? mulder has his beliefs bc samantha was taken; he says so in the very first episode. the whole reason he even thinks aliens are real to begin with is bc of samantha. the person he spent his whole life searching for was samantha. he MET SCULLY bc of samantha. samantha is the thread that ties the whole story together, so then how beautiful--how narratively perfect--would it have been to tie THEIR story--their love story (bc xfiles is, at the end of the day, a love story, fight me) up with a bow, where the beginning starts with samantha getting lost, and then ends with samantha there in their arms, finally found, just in a different iteration. (instead of naming the baby after mulder's dad who he doesn't even like? or scully's dad. or scully's brother. or mulder's middle name, which is after his father ik, but still, why are there so many fucking williams??)

like, imagine it. rly sit there and take a moment to imagine how the end scene in "existence" would have gone if mulder had said, "what are you going to name her," and scully had said, "samantha"

not only does it get the "ding ding ding, you're the dad!" point across, but how fucking Touched would mulder have been to have the woman he loves--the PERSON he loves--more than anything on earth honor the sister who took up so much of his soul for so long? who always will take up part of his soul, just in a healthier way. it would be scully saying, "we know she's gone from this world now, but she's not gone from our hearts" emphasis on OUR hearts, bc mulder's pain is scully's pain; mulder's quests are scully's quests. she never met her sister-in-law (they're married, fight me), and will never have the chance, but by naming their child after her, she would be saying, "i love her anyway. i love her because you love her, and because anyone you love deserves my love as well, bc we are intertwined at our core. our fundamental values, our suffering, our joy, it is felt in us both concurrently, bc i am your person, and you are mine, and together we made a whole other person who is a literal representation of our combined selves, and we are going to call her SAMANTHA, bc that little girl you watched get stolen from you however many decades ago has been the pillar that has kept us going as a team for the last eight years"

or maybe it would have been even simpler than that. maybe she would just be saying, "your sister is IMPORTANT, mulder, even in death, and her memory isn't held only by you. it is unrelenting, and preserved forever in our child"

i wanted that scene. i wanted to feel the heaviness of mulder's grief mixed with his elation and gratitude and love. i appreciate william for who he was in the scheme of things, but that moment in the bedroom, with their baby between them, shouldn't have been lessened for me bc they chose a name that made me pause and go "his dad was named william? oh yeah! forgot about that guy, it's been a few YEARS since we saw much of him, and what we did see of him wasn't like... awesome. but sure, name your baby that ig, if you must"

that scene should have hit so much harder, and if that baby had been a samantha? it could have hit like nothing ever has, and for all the mishaps that show took after that (and there were MANY), i think the thing i will always have the most resentment for is the fact that i felt robbed of something that would have meant so much to me as a viewer who had followed their journey from the start (or, well, almost start. i was born the year it came out, so i didn't start watching until 1998, when my brain came online, but i'd seen the past stuff at least)

anyway! that's all to say, 8 year old me was salty as hell about that, and ykno what? she was RIGHT and should have been able to say it. but, again, 2001, 8 years old, not old enough to participate in fandom, so that thought has just festered and rotted away in my brain like a piece of old, putrid meat. but! finally i can give my 8 year old self some catharsis by letting her bitch and bitch and bitch to her heart's content about how "existence" should have been the series finale, and how that baby should have been a girl named samantha, and how i climbed onto that hill 23 years ago, and how i will die there with my heels dug down deep

ty, internet, for coming to my extremely overdue tedtalk. somewhere in the past there is a small child (who definitely shouldn't have been allowed to watch xfiles as young as she did, but what can you do?) finally has a weight off of her chest. it's just a tv show, and in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter, but also, it's a tv show that i grew up with in my formative and unfortunately very traumatic years, and it genuinely feels like a loved one who has always been there to comfort me, and so yeah, it doesn't "matter," but the truth is, it Matters so incredibly much

that's all

-diz

[eva-of-the-sea]

Y'all ever notice that Fujiko receives a disproportionate amount of hate in the fandom? I'm sure it's something we've all seen, especially if you're a fan of her, but I don't really see it discussed.

I'm bringing it up now because for the past couple of months, I keep running into new fans that are very vocal about disliking her. And while I understand that everyone has their preferences, the reasons they give for why they hate her bother me the most:

"She's a bitch, she's so awful to the poor guys and especially to Lupin."

"She's a slut. She's constantly using her body to get what she wants."

"She betrays the gang so much it's annoying how she always does the same thing."

"It's the writers' fault for making her so unlikable."

While I partially understand one of these points, some of these other ones confuse me.

Fujiko is a character that looks out for herself. She goes into every heist with the thought of "what can I get out of this?" And despite this, she's been shown many times to care about all of the gang. Yes, even in part 2 where folks usually base their hatred of her off of. This is because she is a multifaceted character that isn't just driven by a single motivation.

"But Jigen and Goemon hate her!"

Do they? Because while they do get mad at her shenanigans, we also see them going out of their way to protect her and comfort her. Hell, Fujigoe is a common canon occurrence! Do you really think Goemon would be dating her if he didn't like her? Or that Jigen would be pushing her out of the way of bullets or shielding her with his body if he didn't care about her? Being mad or annoyed with someone's actions aren't the same as hatred. No one ever points out how they get mad at Lupin, and I'd argue that happens more often!

And on the point of her being a slut...where? I'm genuinely confused with this one. Fujiko does use her beauty and charms both to manipulate rich men into giving her treasure and to get out of dangerous situations. That's kind of the point of her being a femme fatale. But how often does she sleep with the people she manipulates? Most instances I can think of, she knocks them out when she gets that far. In fact, I would argue she doesn't seem to be that interested in having sex at all. Do they count her flirting as being slutty? If so, c'mon. And even if she did sleep with her targets, why would this be a bad thing? Are women characters not allowed to have sex? And again, how come Lupin doesn't get the third degree for HIS sluttiness. In fact, I see people joke about it and celebrate it if anything.

On the point of her betraying gang, yeah it is very one-note and does get old. You know what else is very one-note? Literally the actions of every other character in the show. I don't see people complaining about Zenigata chasing the gang getting old. Or about Lupin flirting with every woman he sees. Or about Jigen and Goemon using the same weapons in the same way to get out of every situation. Y'know, maybe this is just a repetitive show! And tbh, the writing lately has been shaken up. The modern series doesn't really have Fujiko betray the gang much anymore. She's either off doing her own thing or she's working with the gang as a member of the team. A lot of people complain about parts 4-6, but I think this is one of the elements it does right.

And finally, on the note of "poor Lupin", I think this one pisses me off the most lol. The fuck y'all mean "poor Lupin"?? I think fans either forget or don't realize that Lupin is a pretty smart guy. He knows Fujiko is most likely going to betray him if he does something for her, the bastard LIKES IT. This is foreplay for both of them. In case you haven't noticed yet, both of them are kind of freaks lol. There's a reason that most of the time, Jigen and Goemon are mad at HIM. Lupin is not a poor sweet baby that needs protection from Fujiko. He specifically loves the chase, the constant push and pull of their relationship. She's an exciting challenge for him, he's a stable home for her.

While I agree that Fujiko has not always been written great in the past, and I'm sure a lot of that was due to misogyny, I think fans need to reevaluate why they criticize her more harshly than the rest of the gang. There's a lot of things she's done that the fandom deems unforgivable, yet the boys have done some of the same stuff without so much as a slap on the wrist. Lupin constantly puts them all in unnecessary danger. Jigen has made some really unsavory comments about women. Goemon has betrayed the gang more than once. And I don't see nearly enough discussion about how Lupin really used to push himself on Fujiko, to the point of it being uncomfortable sometimes. Like damn I'd sell his ass out too😬.

I think it all boils down to Fujiko being a woman. And as a woman, she has to work harder to please the fans. If she's too nice, then she doesn't really have a personality or a reason for anyone to like her. If she's too selfish, she's a mean bitch and everyone should hate her. What if people saw her as a character first? Because no she's not a good person, but neither are the rest of the gang. Their morals are all on a sliding scale of what works best for the plot. But damn she's a great character. She stands out on her own and really makes you remember her. She's so much more than "the girl" character, and I'm so grateful for that. I hope more fans come to this conclusion too.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 3: Set Up For Failure

For today's @whumptober I bring baby Bucciarati pre-series angst. Hope you all enjoy.

Prompts: Set up for Failure | 'I warned you Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Bucciarati

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Read on Ao3

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Staring Down the Barrel

Pre-Series. Bruno fails to see a mission through as Polpo intended which leads to deadly consequences.

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“I don’t wanna have to hurt you, kid.”

Bruno glowered at the man, his knife still clutched firmly in his hand, ready to go should he decide differently.

“You’re the one who’s been going behind Polpo’s back, Zullo,” Bruno said darkly. “And he obviously knows—why else would he have sent me after you today?”

Zullo held his hands out in appeal. “Come on, Bruno, we’re friends, right? Hell, I taught you most of what you know.”

“I know that, Marco,” Bruno said quietly. “So why did you betray the famiglia?”

“There’s things you just don’t get, kid. Polpo likes you, he’s shielded you from the worst this organization has to offer because he wants to keep you around. You can’t tell he’s obviously grooming you to take his place eventually?”

“What is your point?”

“My point is that he’s blinded you, Bruno,” Zullo said firmly. “And it’s up to you whether you want to stay that way or wake up.”

Bruno stared at him a long moment, gripping his knife tighter. He thought of what Zullo said—he too suspected that he would be next in line as Polpo’s successor. Polpo had even allowed him to start forming his own team. He knew even now that Polpo likely expected him to ‘take care of�� this problem regarding Zullo. But Bruno couldn’t quite stand to kill the man for stealing a bit of money. He hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone, after all.

“I’m not blind to the organization, Marco,” he finally said, and stepped forward, putting the other man on alert. “And I’m not Polpo’s puppet.” He sheathed his knife and the man relaxed slightly. “So leave town and make sure none of us ever see you again.”

“What will you tell Polpo?”

“That you slipped me. And when he sends men after you, I hope that you’ll be long gone.”

Bruno turned on his heel and walked off, leaving his one-time mentor in the back alley.

He wanted to get his report to Polpo finished so he could go home.

***

Bruno admittedly took the circuitous route back to Polpo’s townhouse, hoping that Zullo would be smart enough to just get out of Napoli like Bruno had said. But he still had a duty and he couldn’t hold out forever. He stood outside the door briefly before taking a deep breath and heading inside.

Polpo was in his office, having afternoon coffee as he worked at his desk, pouring over papers and books. The huge man glanced up when Bruno came in with a small bow.

“Signore.”

“Ah, Bruno, I’m glad you stopped by,” Polpo said, waving him toward the desk. “What did you find?”

Bruno pressed his lips into a thin line. “Zullo was the one skimming off the top of the betting money.”

Polpo nodded, obviously having known the whole time. “And I trust you took care of it?”

Bruno fought the urge to shift in discomfort, looking Polpo directly in the eye as he said, “He slipped me when he found out you’d sent me after him.”

Polpo raised an eyebrow. “He slipped you? Even with your Sticky Fingers?”

Bruno swallowed hard, his mouth bone dry. “I apologize for the incompetence, Signore.”

“It’s alright, Bruno, you’ll make it up to me,” the man said, and there was a certain danger in his words that tickled Bruno’s fight of flight response. He shifted slightly as Polpo stood, moving his large frame from behind the desk.

Bruno stepped back instinctively, but Polpo passed him and headed to a door on the far wall that led to a room Polpo usually held meetings in. He opened the door and motioned for Bruno to go inside.

Heart in his throat, Bruno stepped through the door.

He did a double take as he saw Zullo inside, tied to a chair, a gag shoved into his mouth. He had been beaten, fresh blood still dripping down his face. His eyes met Bruno’s with a resigned expression.

“Our men caught him at the docks trying to leave the city,” Polpo said. “He was very efficient about it. Almost as if he’d had some sort of warning.”

Bruno’s blood ran cold. He could feel sweat pricking his brow.

“I’m disappointed, Bruno. I know you two were friends, that he was something of a mentor to you, but your loyalty is to me and to the famiglia. I expected less sloppy work from one of my best.”

Bruno swallowed hard, stomach roiling. “Signore—”

“I don’t want to hear groveling and excuses,” the capo said darkly. “I want you to fix your mistake.”

He turned and unlocked the cupboard on one side of the room, pulling out a small wooden box which he placed on top of the table. Polpo motioned toward Bruno pointedly.

Bruno stepped forward and fought to keep his hands from shaking as he reached out to open the box, finding a pistol nestled within. He made no move to pick it up.

Polpo loomed behind Bruno, waiting. “Finish the job I sent you to do, Bruno.”

Bruno couldn’t move. Polpo made an annoyed tch with his tongue and picked up the gun, pressing it into Bruno’s hand. It was cold and heavy, an uncomfortable weight in Bruno’s palm.

“Finish the job I asked you to do.”

Bruno stood there for a long moment, just staring at the gun. He could feel Zullo’s eyes boring into him but, in his cowardice, he couldn’t face the man. Was he actually about to kill him while he was tied to a chair? Bruno wasn’t sure he could live with himself after that; killing a man, especially one he had once counted a friend, in cold blood.

He lowered the gun.

“Bruno,” Polpo said in warning.

Bruno inhaled sharply and placed the gun on the table. “Signore, at least allow me to untie him.”

Polpo let out a long sigh, the disappointment obvious. “Perhaps I have put too much faith in you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t kill a man in cold blood, Signore.”

“Weakness, Bruno, is what will get you killed in this life.” Polpo picked up the gun. “Weakness and betrayal.”

The shot rang out, deafening in the small space, but not as deafening as Bruno’s heartbeat as he watched Zullo slump in the chair, a spray of red painting the wall behind him.

Polpo turned and pressed the hot barrel of the gun up under Bruno’s chin, singeing his skin. “You won’t betray me, will you, Bruno?”

Bruno swallowed, throat bobbing against the gun. “No, signore,” he managed.

Polpo stared at him for a long moment, then leaned in and licked a stripe of sweat off of his face. Bruno shut his eyes, cringing in terror and disgust.

Polpo finally pulled away and tossed the gun onto the table. “Next time I ask you to take care of something, do it.”

Bruno took that as a cue to leave. He bowed and retreated from the house as quickly as possible.

Fugo was waiting for him when he got back to the apartment.

“I was going to make dinner but I didn’t know when you’d be home,” he said, a bit awkward.

Bruno exhaled slowly. “I already ate, I’m sorry. I should have called,” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to do right now was eat anything, and he didn’t want Fugo prying right now.

“Oh, all right,” the younger boy replied.

“There’s still some leftovers from yesterday if you want them,” Bruno told him. “I have some work to finish.”

Fugo nodded but his eyes were sharp. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Bruno replied probably too quickly. “Let me know if you need anything.”

He retreated to his room and shut the door before he started shaking so much he couldn’t stand. He sank down against the door, fighting back an oncoming panic attack. He could still feel the cold impression of the gun in his hand. He wasn’t a stranger to violence, even death. He’d killed more men than he could remember but never anyone who didn’t deserve it. He supposed he’d found his line in the sand.

He should have been at peace with his decision, after all, Zullo’s blood was not on his hands, but he couldn’t help but think of what would happen next time. Who would it be sitting in the chair next time? Who would be the next man Polpo expected him to kill? Who would do something to be seen as a traitor?

Bruno thought of what Zullo had said to him earlier, about him being blind. Maybe he was right. Or maybe Bruno had just been lying to himself that all of this, working under Polpo, wasn’t as bad as he had thought. But ever since his father had died, he had started to see through the cracks. Not that it mattered now. He was far too deep to even consider leaving an option.

What did it really matter at the end of the day who had killed Zullo, a man Bruno had counted as a friend and mentor was dead. There was no other way to put it.

He buried his face in his hands and allowed himself to shake in the privacy of his room. Because as soon as he opened that door again, he would have to straighten his shoulders and face the bloody life he had chosen to live.

***

He didn’t know how Fugo had found out, but when he got back from a few business calls the next day, the blonde was waiting for him with a sour expression on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me what happened with Zullo?” he demanded.

Bruno frowned at him, but a worm of guilt dug through his insides. “How do you know about that?”

“Because every one is saying he betrayed Passione and Polpo sent you to kill him.”

Bruno shook his head. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors.”

“Then tell me the truth,” Fugo snapped. “Because Zullo is dead, isn’t he? He was stealing, I can’t imagine Polpo would let him live.”

Bruno shut his eyes briefly. He knew that Fugo had also gotten on well with the man when they’d worked together, which was rare for Fugo. He deserved to know, it would only be a disservice to him if Bruno kept things from him.

“You want to know the truth?” Bruno said darkly. “I couldn’t pull the trigger, and I should have. Because Polpo won’t give me another pass, and next time it could be you.”

Fugo blinked, obviously not having expected that. Bruno hadn’t expected that. He didn’t know why he had said exactly what had been on his mind the whole time but now that it was out in the open…

“Would you do it?” Fugo asked from between clenched teeth. “Would you put a bullet in my head?”

“How can you ask that?” Bruno demanded. “Of course not!”

“So, you’d let someone else take me out instead? You’d let Polpo take me out?”

“No.” Bruno took a deep breath and gave Fugo an earnest look. “I look after my own. You’re part of my famiglia, Fugo. I would die for you.”

“But what if you’re forced to make a choice?”

“Then I suppose we will both be traitors,” Bruno said simply. “Because I would sooner betray the entire organization than betray my famiglia.”

Fugo stared at him, his lower lip trembling slightly. “That’s idiotic.”

Bruno gave him a look. “So, you would kill me then, if Polpo asked you to?”

“Of course not!”

“Well, then. I suppose that’s settled.”

He went to the kitchen to make some coffee, Fugo lingering behind him.

“Bucciarati…I’m sorry about Zullo. I know you were friends, and despite what happened, I still believe him to be a good man.”

“He was trying to get out,” Bruno said then, hands automatically working as he filled the moka pot measuring coffee and water. “He had a girl, and a baby in Rome. He was just trying to provide for them, give them a better…” He couldn’t continue, his throat closed and he had to press his hands into the countertop before he simply gave up and sank down onto his knees, doubling over as a panicked breath escaped with a strangled sob. “My god, Panna, I hate it here. I hate it so much.”

Fugo stared at him in shock for a long moment as Bruno fought desperately not to fall into pieces. Then Fugo  finally stepped forward, crouching in front of Bruno. After a moment’s hesitation he reached out and gripped the older teen’s shoulder tightly.

“We’ll do what we can for them, for Zullo,” he said firmly.

Bruno nodded, wiping his face and taking several deep breaths to steady himself. He couldn’t allow himself any more time to break down, he had to put his mask back on and face the day, face the life he had chosen to be a part of.

Fugo offered him a hand and Bruno took it, allowing the blonde to help him to his feet.

“Please promise me that you’ll never cross Polpo, Panna,” Bruno said firmly.

Fugo nodded. “I won’t do anything without your say,” he promised. “But one day, Bucciarati, I believe you’ll be in his place, and when you are, you can make the changes you want.”

“Yes,” Bruno said wryly. “But that day is not today, and I think there are too many damages already done.”

[komotionlessqueenmm]

One man's trash, is another man's treasure.

(1-4)

Short story # 6

2,355 - Words

Fandom - House of Wax (2005)

Paring - Bo Sinclair X Reader

Summary - The reader finds herself & her 4 month old son stranded in Ambrose. While Bo finds himself enamored with the woman, wanting nothing more than to protect and provide for the two of them.

Warnings - Some dark topics, talk of abusive relationships, eventual blood & death, eventual smut. (I'm not sure what else tbh)

Notes - Italics mean the reader is singing.

Pt. 1 ~ Pt. 2 ~ Pt. 3 ~ Pt. 4

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"No no no." (Y/n) sighed as her jeep sputtered and died, white smoke bellowing from under the hood. "Please don't do this." (Y/n) muttered under her breath, pulling the jeep off to the side of the dirt road, despite her desire to keep driving. "Damn it." She hissed under her breath when it died completely, flipping the four ways on instinctively. The baby fussed tiredly from the backseat, drawing (Y/n) full attention. "It alright my love." (Y/n) cooed before exiting the driver side, sliding onto the back seat, she comforted the infant. "Sh sh sh you're alright baby." She cooed as she brushed his hair away from his face, kissing his little hands. The baby's cries subsided, and he cooed up at his mother. His wide and bright eyes melting her heart, as he peered up at her. Allowing the child to suckle on her finger, (Y/n) used her free hand to check her cellphone, hoping to call triple A. "Of course." She sighed under her breath, tossing her phone into the front seat, after finding it dead. (Y/n) jumped at the sound of someone knocking on the window, looking to find a man standing there smiling at her.

"Oh you startled me." (Y/n) chuckled when she opened the door, leaving her child in his car seat. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare ya." He chuckled with embarrassment. "It's alright, no harm done." (Y/n) brushed it off before offering him her hand. "My names (Y/n)." He shook her hand with a smile. "Lester." He then pointed to the jeep. "Car troubles?" He asked as he let go of her hand. "Yeah I'm not sure what happened to it." (Y/n) sighed as she turned her attention to the jeep. "Mind of I take a look?" He tilted he head a little. "Please do." (Y/n) smiled quickly moving to pop the hood. "Where you headed?" Lester asked as he inspected the engine. "Anywhere." (Y/n) leaned her hip against the side of the jeep. "Running from something?" He asked impulsively. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked that." Lester quickly stammered. "It's alright..." (Y/n) cleared her throat. "Someone actually, I'm running from someone." She admitted. "I'd appreciate... I'd appreciate it if you'd forget ever meeting me after this." (Y/n) added. "Well a pretty face like yours would be hard to forget, but don't worry your secret is safe with me." Lester smiled, his honesty making (Y/n) smile. "Thank you Lester." Her appreciation making Lester grin. "You're welcome (Y/n), but I'm afraid I cant do much about your jeep." Lester's smile turned to a apologetic frown. "Are you sure?" She frowned a little when he nodded his head. "Well I appreciate you trying." (Y/n) sighed softly. "I could give you a ride into Ambrose, Bo owns the garage he could help you I'm sure of it." Lester suggested. "Oh I'd really appreciate the help!" (Y/n) beamed her excitement making Lester smile.

"Give me one moment." (Y/n) quickly moved to the other side of the car, unbuckling the car seat, she hulled her baby out of the car. "Oh you've got a little one." Lester observed with slight shock. "I hope that's not a problem." (Y/n) bit her bottom lip nervously. "N-no not at all." Lester stammered. "You need me to grab anything?" He asked. "Could you grab the stroller from the back?" She asked. "Sure thing!" Lester moved to grab the stroller while (Y/n) shouldered the diaper bag. "Let me lay a blanket down in the bed of my truck real quick." Lester explained as he carried the stroller to his truck, (Y/n) nodded her head in understanding as she closed up the back of the jeep, locking the doors before she joined Lester at his truck. "There we go." He murmured to himself as he laid the blanket out, laying the stroller on top of it. "Don't want to stain that up." He explained with a smile, (Y/n) smiled then looked to the cab of the truck. "I think I'll have to hold him in the truck huh?" She observed, sitting the car seat in the tailgate to unbuckle the infant. "I'm afraid so." Lester rubbed the back of his neck a little. "Oh let me get that." He moved to grab the now empty car seat. "Oh it locks into place on the stroller." (Y/n) explained pointing to where the car seat went. "Well ain't that convenient." Lester smiled as he latched the car seat into place. "Yeah it's really nice." (Y/n) agreed with a smile.

They rode in a comfortable silence for about ten minutes, before Lester struck up conversation. "So what's the little guys name?" He asked as he glanced towards the baby, quickly casting his gaze back to the road. "He's names Von." (Y/n) smiled as she lovingly stroked the baby's back. "Dose it mean something?" Lester asked with genuine curiosity. "I got it from old Norse, it means hope." She explained. "That's really cool!" Lester beamed excitedly, making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "If you don't might me asking... Where's Von's pa?" Lester asked after a few minutes. "That's who I'm running from..." (Y/n) admitted, finding it easy to confide in him. "He do something?" Lester asked. "When he found out I was pregnant... He tried to kill me." (Y/n) murmured softly, her words making Lester frown. "A neighbor heard the commotion, and he saved me. My ex went to jail, but he has friends in high places, and was able to get released last month." (Y/n) paused for a moment. "I received full custody of Von after my ex was sentenced, and when he got out I took off." She swallowed thickly, subconsciously touching the scar on her mouth from where her ex had slashed her with a knife. "He's a dangerous man, and I'm terrified that he's going to come after me, to finish what he started." (Y/n)'s confession upset Lester, he wasn't upset with her, but with her ex, a man he didn't even know.

"I'm really sorry to hear that." Lester cleared his throat, swallowing the emotional lump that had formed. "We'll be in Ambrose in a minute." He added. "Ah hell." He sighed at the sight ahead. "I forgot this road washed out last month in a storm." Lester explained as he parked the truck, I gotta flip my hubs into four-wheel." Lester explained, as he opened his door. "Oh I don't want to trouble you any more than I already have." (Y/n) reasoned. "Oh it's no trouble, I'm happy to help a pretty lady and her baby." He offered her a friendly smile, before setting to work. After he had finished his work, Lester hopped back into the truck with a grin. "Now hold on, I'm gonna take it slow but it's still gonna be bumpy." He explained as he put the truck into drive. (Y/n) nodded her head in understanding, cradling Von against her chest firmly, in hopes of not disturbing him to much. True to his word Lester took the drive nice and slow, the truck rocking this way and that as the tires rolled over some of the larger rocks. "Here we are." He murmured as they cleared the ruble, and made it to solid ground again. "Welcome to Ambrose (Y/n)." He smiled at her as he drove onto town, parking outside of the gas station. "Wow this place is really cute." (Y/n) hummed as she looked at all of the rustic buildings. "I'll go see if Bo is in." Lester offered as he hopped out of the truck. (Y/n) had nodded her head exiting the truck herself a moment later, her legs desperately needing to stretch. "Hello my sweet." (Y/n) mused at Von, who cooed up at her, a little drool dribbling down his chin.

"Bo's not in." Lester sighed as he exited the station. "He should be back soon though, he doesn't typically leave the garage empty for very long." He explained. "Well I guess I'll have to wait." (Y/n) smiled softly. "I could wait with you." Lester offered. "Oh no it's alright, I've already taken up so much of your time." (Y/n) declined his offer. "I'm sure I'll be alright, like you said he shouldn't be gone long." She reasoned as she subconsciously began bouncing Von gently. "Alright here let me grab the stroller for ya." Lester smiled as he opened the tailgate, grabbing the stroller he attempted to set it up. "The red leaver on the side, push it, then pull the stroller up. It'll lock into place with a click." (Y/n) explained, pointing to the red leaver. "Got it." Lester chuckled softly as he pulled the stroller up, smiling when it clicked into place. "Thank you Lester, for everything. You've been a real help." (Y/n) sat Von into the stroller, strapping him in before she turned her attention to Lester. "Here I've got some spare cash." (Y/n) quickly pulled her wallet from her back pocket, pulling out the thirty dollars she had. "Oh no I can't take that." Lester shook his head. "Please it's the least I can do." She smiled before taking ahold of his hands, placing the money in his palms. "What about your jeep, how are ya gonna pay for that?" Lester voiced his concern. "I've got some prepaid cards, I'll be alright." (Y/n) assured him, smiling when he finally nodded his head in agreement. "Alright... But if ya ain't got enough have Bo call me, I'll help ya out I promise." Lester smiled when (Y/n) nodded her head in agreement. "Thank you again Lester." She shook his hands before releasing him, waving as he hopped into his truck, and drove off.

(Y/n) sat on the curb outside of the gas station for about thirty minutes, gently rocking the stroller back and forth, letting Von sleep peacefully. "Go tell Aunt Rhody, go tell Aunt Rhody, Go tell Aunt Rhody that the old gray goose is dead." (Y/n) sang the old lullaby. "The one she's been saving to make a feather bed. The old gander's weeping, because his wife is dead." She reached up turning on the small battery operated fan she had attached to the stroller for Von. "The goslings are mourning, because their mother's dead. She died in the mill pond from standing on her head." (Y/n) smiled at the sight of birds flying in the distance. "Go tell Aunt Rhody that the old gray goose is dead." She finished the lullaby, softly humming in her throat the last line, drawing out the lullaby a little longer. "You've got a real pretty voice." A man called out softly, his sudden appearance making (Y/n) freeze up momentarily. "Oh thank you." (Y/n) smiled up at the handsome man, rising to her feet as he tossed his cigarette off to the side. "My names Bo, I own this shop." He introduced himself, offering her his hand. "I'm (Y/n)." She smiled shaking his hand. "Is there something I can help you with?" He asked. "My jeep broke down a few miles down the road, I got a ride from a man named Lester into town. He said you'd be able to fix my jeep for me." (Y/n) explained, idly continuing to rock the stroller back and forth. "I'm sure I can." He smiled. "Do you know what's wrong with it?" He asked as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I have no clue." She chuckled softly. "Well can you explain what happened?" Bo asked with a small chuckle of his own. "Uh it made this sputtering kinda sound, like it was running out of gas, but the meter said I still had over half a tank. And white smoke started coming out from under the hood, then as soon as I got the car off to the side of the road the engine died." (Y/n) explained to the best of her memory. "When was the last time you put oil in it?" Bo asked with a small tilt of his head. "Last week." (Y/n) replied quickly. "Has it been giving you problems before today?" He asked. "None." (Y/n) shook her head, not having had any issues with her jeep since before today.

"Hm I have to have my brother tow the truck back here, before I can determine what's wrong." Bo explained. "Of course." (Y/n) nodded her head in understanding. "I'll have to call him from the house, my shops phone has been broken for two weeks now. You can come with me if you'd like, give you a chance to relax somewhere a little more comfortable with your little one there." Bo offered as he glanced to the stroller, a friendly smile on his handsome face. "Yeah sure that would be really nice, thank you." (Y/n) smiled as he nodded her head, following Bo to the house on the hill. "What's his name?" Bo asked as he looked into the stroller at the sleeping toddler. "Von." (Y/n) smiled. "I like that name." Bo admitted with a grin of his own. "Thanks it means hope in old Norse." (Y/n) explained. "Well I like it even more then." Bo's smile widened a little when (Y/n) giggled softly, a notable blush painting her cheeks. "You know you and Lester have been some of the nicest people I've met in a while." (Y/n) admitted. "In my experience some of the nicest people are from rural areas like this." Bo mused, his statement making (Y/n) nod her head in agreement. "Yeah it's nice." She hummed with content as they reached the front porch.

----

Part one is complete!

Let me know what you think!

Oh and let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next parts!

Love ya!

PS this is the lullaby (Y/n) was singing, its called Go Tell Aunt Rhody.

[del1ghted]

Could I request being childe’s younger sister

Absolutely!!! (that picture made me ugly laugh)

-

Being Childe’s younger sister !

pairings : platonic childe & sibling!reader

fandom: genshin impact

-

-> prepare to be spoiled to the max, childe with his fatui salary will buy you anything you want.

-> he goes all out on your birthday; forces his coworkers to give him a couple days off so he can visit and coddle you until you’re sick of him. the gifts you receive are always breathtaking—whether it be a accessory from another country or silk nightwear they’re magnificent.

-> you wear his other earring as a reminder of him. :)

-> childe likes to spend time with his siblings separately! showering each and every one of you with attention because nothing else gives him that much joy!

-> when teucer finally falls asleep after exhausting himself from bouncing around, your older brother slides beside you with a mischievous look on his face.

“want to prank the neighbors?”

“you didn’t even have to ask.”

-> if you’re the type of person who prefers peace and quiet expect none of that. since childe doesn’t get to see you often he definitely won’t let you have space for as long as he’s there, playfully interrogating you about your life and everything he’s missed while overseas. he practically beams whenever talking to you, wanting to hear you talk about your adventures instead so he doesn’t have to think about work for awhile.

-> childe does not play when it comes to competitive games. he will go all out and will expect the same energy in return. he will not hesitate to use his hydro vision; sending a flow of cold water over your head to distract you and win whatever you were doing.

-> the look on your face is worth the amount of snow you throw at him, he’s doubled over cackling as he compares you to a wet cat. he won’t stop talking about it all day until you get your revenge—which is ultimately dumping water on him in turn which is just as hilarious.

-> if someone has an issue with you you might as well say their whole family is cursed. if their business is affiliated with the fatui there will be a sudden crash in their customers until they apologize profusely, begging for you to undo whatever the hell happened to their shop. you heave a long sigh because you already know who’s responsible.

-> since you’re one of the older sisters amongst the young category you’re most likely aware of his fatui status. because of this, he happily shares his dream of conquering all of teyvat.

“would you crown me as a princess then?”

“of course! i need someone logical to help me rule after all.”

-> after an ungodly amount of begging he finally allows you to accompany him outside of snezhnanya’s borders. despite his promise of not babying you he has a strict eye on you all the time that you’re not aware of.

-> a fatui soldier watches you from the distance as you wander liyue; trying its foods and practicing it’s traditions without a care in the world. only childe knows how cruel people can be and he doesn’t want something bad to happen to you. (if something did hypothetically happen he may attempt to commit genocide on the country once again.)

-> whether you are blessed with a vision or not he’ll help you train! he doesn’t mind showing some of his personal battle techniques, in fact childe would be happy if he sees you applying his methods in battle. of course, he’d never let you take on anything too dangerous without him there. don’t think he won’t cheer you on though as you take down mitachurls and slimes without issue!

-> childe speaks very highly of you! does not hesitate to say he has an amazing younger sister that keeps the family alive while he’s gone. even on the rare occasions youre accompanying him around teyvat he’ll talk about you despite you being right there, no matter how embarrassing you find it.

you start to think he’s doing that because of the reaction.

“-have i mentioned how strong she is? without a doubt i can tell she’s going to make it far in life. in fact, you should watch her figh-”

“archons childe shut up!!”

-> keeps a picture of you all in the dorm room given to all harbingers. occasionally traces all of you with a gloved finger as he gazes longingly, he misses home. wishes to hear the sound of your laughter and cheer the most—please send this boy letters, he’s so lonely over with the fatui. :(

-

A/N: it’s a little short but i hope i did you justice anon !! this prompt was so cute ahshshsh

childe please come home

[literary-spirit]

Bonnie Bennett believed she'd finally discovered her good enough ending. Yet, like most things in her life good enough goes left and leaves her with another ending. Or, perhaps a fire beginning...Journey with everyone's favorite Bennett Witch to the Viking Era for much needed lessons in devotion, courtesy the Lothbrok brothers.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

AN: Alright Bennett Fandom this one here is a bit different from what you're used to. Okay this one here is a bit different than I'm used to. Francesca has recently rediscovered Vikings and with it the sons of Ragnar. And don't you know she wouldn't rest until she brought our favorite Bennett Witch into their mess! As if our girl didn't already have her own problems. SMFH! So thanks to my lovely muse, here we are with a whole lot of trifling savagery that I'm just not so sure about. But as always I'll let you be the judge if this WIP lives to see another update. Flame it or acclaim it in comments.

“You know as much as I’ve savored the joy of tormenting you over the years-,” Klaus began.

“No,” Bonnie shook her head. She’d tried to go along with his final request. Really she did, but how could she? When in the end all he’d be was gone. “I’m sorry, bae. We’re not doing this.”

Rebekah’s eyes rolled. She released a drawn out exhale that hadn’t been necessary for her since wood ash and pointed stick tattoos were a thing. “Bonnie, don’t ruin this for him! Permit him whatever comfort he demands. He shoulders a burden you’d never be able to fathom. Can you not allow him to experience but one moment of grace? A moment Hope will undoubtedly cling to after he’s gone.”

“No, Rebekah! I’m not about to listen as the man I love gives us all a corny goodbye and pretend to be okay with it. And why the hell should Hope have a moment to cling to when she could have her father?” She gave her head another firm shake. “No, this is not okay with me,” her voice rose as she drilled visual holes through each of them. Klaus tried to shut her down with an arm around the shoulders but she curved him with a shrug, all while committing ocular homicide on him in the process. “So why the hell is it okay with you, Hybrid?” Her scorn riddled gaze darted from him back to his so called family. “Or any of you?”

“You must’ve been down on Bourbon sipping on that Absinthe again if you believe any of this shit is okay with us,” Marcel waved her off barely sparing her a glance. “We all just know Klaus is gonna do whatever Klaus wants no matter how any of us feels about it. The most dangerous place you can be when his mind’s made up is in his way. So I suggest you step out of it.”

Her neck snapped back as if she’d taken a two piece to the chin. “You think I’m afraid of the big bad wolf? I wasn’t at seventeen and if I thought for a second it would save him, I’d put his ass back in the dirt again. I take care of my own, Marcel. No matter the dangers or consequences,” she jabbed a thumb at her hybrid, “And make no mistake, that Original pain in the ass over there is mine.”

“Cute.” Marcel laughed as he rubbed at the corners of his mouth. “Bonnie, we’re his family. Each of us have known, feared, hated, respected, and loved him long before even your parents’ parents became an idea. Hell, even after everything he’s dragged me through, there’s not a drop of blood I wouldn’t bleed for him.”

“Then stand behind those words and do something, Marcel,” she pleaded, because at this point she wasn’t above begging for the only bright spot remaining in the dim bleakness that had become her life seven years before.

“What would you have us do, Bonnie?” Elijah questioned in a barely engaged tone.

Bonnie turned to consider him. A perpetual moroseness now cloaked the one she’d once believed to be noble. His arrogance hadn’t been quite the same since the restoration of his memories. More and more he’d begun to remind her of Finn. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. Since discovering what Klaus planned to do, she’d toyed with an idea she’d vowed never to indulge. Yet, under the weight of impossible desperation such vows could not stand.

“The eternal witch spell should be evoked,” she said.

“By whom?” Kol questioned. His chocolate browns moved from Freya to Hope. When both appeared to know less than him his disbelieving gawk returned to her. “You?!” Laughter burst from his mouth. “Oh Darling, I’ve witnessed that spell make a supernatural mess of the most talented witches to ever recite a chant. There’s only one destined to master the eternal witch incantation and her sorcery is said to be unmatched.” His knowing gaze drifted to Hope, and then back to her. “There’s no way you’re powerful enough to undertake the task. You’re not even the strongest witch on this block.”

Bonnie flinched. Damn it, if Kol hadn’t DOA’ed her pride. When the hell did he jump on the Bennett hate train? To hear how far his opinion of her plummeted sort of burned.

She nodded. “Okay, if not me why not Davina. You tend to enjoy blowing her horn. If she’s all you claim her to be, get her here. I’ll happily bow down if her being greater than me will save him.” She jerked her head in Klaus’ direction.

“No!” Marcel barked.

“Leave my wife out of this.” Kol zipped across the distance separating them to tower over her. His original face no longer concealed by his human deception.

Klaus rocketed forward to place himself between she and Kol. “Step away from my fiancé, baby brother. For if you harm her then you’ll be joining me in the afterlife. To hell with your bloody dagger and box.”

Ignoring Kol’s and Klaus’ dagger and the box bit, her distressed stare collided with Freya’s. “What about you? Will you help me save your brother?”

“Bonnie, that spell is much too dangerous. Even for me.” The blondes eyes offered her a thousand apologies but not one solution. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it…not now.”

Her desperation bottomed out to despair as her gaze took a hail Mary launch to the supposedly most powerful witch in the room. “Hope?”

The room erupted. You’d think she’d offered the girl a crack pipe. When she was Hope’s age she was taking down well…her dad.

“Bonnie!” Elijah yelled.

“This is madness,” Rebekah growled, taking a step in their direction. “Nik tell her!”

“We’ve already talked about this, Bekah.” Marcel shook his head and tugged Rebekah back to his side. “That doesn’t concern us.” Bonnie heard Marcel mutter.

Klaus spun away from Kol to regard her. He grabbed her face and cradled her cheeks in his palms. “Everything’s going to be alright, Love.” He whispered, before brushing his lips against hers. Liquid pain disturbed the stillness of his crystal blue stare and contradicted the hell out of his reassurance.

“How?” She tugged herself free of his grasp. “How’s everything going to be alright? You’ll be dead and then what? Life goes on? Fuck that! I’m not about to stand here and mourn a defeat I haven’t loss yet!” She whirled away and marched from the gathering. Her decision made.

Once out of sight, she hurried towards their bedroom. Inside, she closed the door and locked it. The barrier wouldn’t hold her hybrid, but the fraction of time it would provide may be all she needed to complete the spell. She fell to her knees next to the mattress. Carefully, she tugged the blanket from underneath the bed. The already prepared altar and ingredients slid out. She stared down at the athamae and exhaled. Second thoughts plagued her mental, but she shook them away. She’d come this far already. The time to bitch up and forget about it had come and gone. Now was the time to do and die, literally.

She picked up the dagger and called forth every ounce of mystical energy which bled through her veins. A swell of Bennett sorcery overwhelmed the room. Pictures rattled on the walls. The balcony doors blew open and the glass shattered. Furniture not nailed down whipped about the room like she’d caught a ride in a tornado. Steeling her nerves, she continued. She called forth her psychic energy, her huntress energy. Any and everything supernatural about her she offered to the Goddess of all in exchange for an eternity of knowledge and the fated eternal mate destined to help her defeat the Hollow.

After relinquishing her all to the Creator she sliced open her palm. Blood gushed from the wound and saturated the ingredients. A searing light illuminated the room. The bargain was struck and accepted. Now the sacrifice. She swallowed and raised the blade. Aiming it at the center of her chest, she closed her eyes.

“Bonnie, no!” Klaus’ voice penetrated the white noise blaring throughout the room. “Love, don’t do this. You won’t survive.”

She opened her eyes. He stood just beyond the enchantment circle, attempting to force his way into the barrier. “Neither will you if I don’t. Besides, if it doesn’t work I’d rather be in the ground anyway than breathe without you, Klaus.”

“Bonnie, please,” he pled as he dropped to his knees. He slammed his fist against the barrier. “Please, don’t do this. We’ll find another way. You have my word, Love!”

A sad smile flirted with her lips. “You’re lying, Klaus. If there was another way then it would already be the plan.” She plunged the blade into the cradle of her breasts. A piercing burn penetrated her chest.

“No!” Klaus’ bellow seared layers from her punctured heart. The storm of mystical energy whipping about ceased.

Her knees buckled. Klaus caught her before the ground could and cuddled her close. She attempted to talk, but a wheeze whistled pass her lips instead.

“No, Love, don’t speak.” He bit into his wrist and placed the bleeding extremity to her mouth. His blood might as well had been battery acid because she’d bet dollars to air it burned the same. Hacking coughs damn near shook her frame apart by the joints. “Why the sodding hell isn’t this working?”

“I-It’s the s-spell,” she managed to utter. “M-my death is the p-price of a-admission.”

Tears trickled from his eyes onto her face. “Why did I have to go and love you, Little Witch?” He demanded, looking beyond confused.

“B-Because its what we b-both needed at the time and no m-matter how this turns out I’ll always be indebted to you for giving me a reason. L-Love you, Hybrid…always and f-forever.” His face faded until nothing but darkness surrounded her.

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

The abyss gave way to blinding lights. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. A cacophony of sounds battered her auditory senses. The eardrum rupturing racket nearly distracted her from the violent rocking motion. A violent rocking motion which would no doubt wrought absolute fuckery on her cyclic vomiting syndrome. Right along with the tang of salt-water, unwashed bodies, and rotten fish. The potpourri of funk came close to singeing the lining of her nostrils.

A familiar acrid burn tickled the back of her throat. On cue her belly spun a series of gold medal winning somersaults. Oh this was going to happen. Her lack of sight heightened her senses and made her that much more sensitive to all the upchuck factors swirling about her. Unable to continue to live in the darkest part of her denial and remain vomit free, she opened her eyes. The brightest day she'd ever had to tolerate greeted her light discriminating gaze. She closed her eyes once more. What in the extreme fuck? Was this some kind of hell dimension? Is that why she was only a five minute drive away from the damn sun? Oh Goddess no!

"Cade?!" She growled.

The acrid burn that flirted with the back of her throat developed a sour chunky consistency. Once again she forced her eyes open...and blinked. She was on a vessel that appeared to have hailed straight out of Vikings. Damning the unnecessary brightness and her afterlife in general, she turned and tossed up the entire contents of her stomach over the boats edge. The seafood gumbo from Rousseau's she loved nearly as much as Klaus shot from her mouth and floated one way while the wind and Hades' cruiser sailed her in another.

As gravity took her down exhaustion fucked her over. She rested her cheek on the boat's wooden ledge. Drops of putrid salt water splashed her face. Yet, her fucks to give was at a negative zero low. Not only was she dead, but more than likely so was Klaus. She'd failed him...she'd failed them. Not even eternity would be long enough to make that shit okay.

Bonnie's vision blurred. Her chest throbbed. She clawed at the pounding ache between her breasts. Goddess, it's a wonder her chest didn't have a gaping hole in it after everything her heart had lost. Shaking her latest failure from her thoughts, she turned to slouch back to the boat's floor. She then lifted her gaze to assess her surroundings. Various shades of irises gawked back at her. She froze. Oh damn! Just her luck the water was sacred. She opened her mouth to offer an apology, but snapped it closed. Wait...why the hell did everyone look like extras from the Last Kingdom?

Slowly, her gaze dropped from the filthy hairy men towering over her to what she wore. The burlap sack dress she donned stopped her ever ticking clock. And based on the breeze cooling her cakes, her La Perla's had opted to skip the journey to the other side. Her back teeth clenched. In what kind of after life had she been dropped? Was this some kind of Viking hell? Had she somehow been granted eternity with Klaus in his hereafter?

The shifting of bodies snaked her attention from Kanye's spring wear to the now parting beefy men. A sight which had her questioning her sanity emerged. Bjorn Lothbrok or at any rate the actor who portrayed him in Vikings. Was he dead and stuck on the Otherside also? Wait, was Alexander Ludwig even supernatural?

"You're not one of the slaves who was captured during the raid. One of your hue, I would've remembered." The head Viking in charge edge that resonated in Bjorn's or Alexander's voice snatched her from her contemplations. "How've you come to be upon this ship?" When she opened her mouth to speak the cold sharpened point of a sword pierced the hollow of her throat. "Speak to me of canards or sagas and I shall open your gullet."

She hesitated for a moment. What could she say? The truth would definitely get her neck split wide. "I-I'm not sure. Before...when I closed my eyes, I was somewhere else and now that I've opened them, I'm..." she glanced from the horror frozen faces of the crewmen to the beyond frightened slaves. The poor shackled souls huddled away from her in the ship crevices and corners on either side of her. She swallowed and allowed her gaze to return to Bjorn. "I'm here."

"Oh my god," she heard one of the slaves mutter in a tone that, to her surprise, sounded annoyed?

His scoff sliced the disbelief inspired silence in half. He withdrew the biting tip of his sword from her throat and sheathed it in the scabbard at his side. "Bind her hands to her feet and toss her over."

The ship erupted in a flurry of movement. Two overfed red-haired and even redder faced Viking men moved to grab her. She nearly projectile vomited her heart from her mouth.

"I know what I'm saying sounds apeshit, but I swear on everything I love, Alexander," she said slowly uttering the name and searching his face for a flare of recognition. When nothing sparked in his expression she stammered on, "I-I'm telling the truth. Please, you have to believe me, Bjorn!" A flicker of curiosity narrowed his glare. Bingo! "You can't let them kill me! Please, I don't wanna die again!"

"Halt!" He bellowed, raising a hand to stop the men from advancing, "How've you come to know of my name?"

Shit! She pressed her lips together as her mind flipped through a too short list of plausible explanations that wouldn't get her burned at a stake for witchcraft. "I-I've dreamt of you a-and of this moment." There, that didn't sound too bad. One thing she'd learned from Klaus, watching Vikings, and Google, is ancient Northman actually revered oracles and seers.

"You've dreamt of me?" He knelt before her, arresting her stare with a penetratingly incandescent blue gaze. At a deliberate methodical pace, his eyes crept over her face. Her lungs threatened to collapse under the thorough scrutiny. "Of this moment?" Unable to look anywhere other than in the irises that burned brighter than the now blazing sun, her head bobbed. A smile enticed the corners of his mouth. "Then why fear what you know will follow? Have you not prepared well to meet your fate?"

"Not if my fate resides at the bottom of the ocean," she said with a firm shake of the head, "That's an introduction I'd like to cur—avoid indefinitely."

His head tilted just so as he continued to regard her. "Name yourself."

"Bonnie Bennett," she answered.

A golden brow lifted. "Bonnie Bennett of where?"

"New-M-Mystic Falls...Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

"I have never heard of a land with such a name," he huddled a bit closer to her, "in which direction does your homeland lie?"

Before she could answer, thick gun metal gray clouds rolled across the azure sky and swallowed the glaring sun. A sonic boom exploded somewhere in the distance, while blue streaks of lightening zigzagged its way through the stodgy swirls of gloom. And if the situation wasn't already atom splitting serious, fat drops of rain and hail the size of golf balls began to pelt them.

"This storm is unnatural!" A seaman yelled.

"What in the name of Odin will become of us? None of us shall discover the gates of Valhalla at the bottom of the sea!" A ruddy face old man with a scraggly beard roared at anyone who appeared to be listening.

Another much younger seaman, maybe a little older than herself, turned an anxious stare on Bjorn. "Do you believe the All Father has forsaken us, Ironside?"

Bjorn opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a blonde slave girl who pointed a finger in her direction, "It's her! Her very presence displeases the gods. You should heave her over and pray the sacrifice appeases them."

"You sound dumb as hell! It's no wonder you're in chains," Bonnie snapped, regretting her words as soon as they left her lips. Stupidity had nothing to do with forced captivity. Yet, that bitch had some damn nerve.

"No one will be heaving anyone over," Bjorn said, while standing from his crouch, "Raise the sails and provide the slaves with pails so they may began dumping water from the ship's floor."

A surge of magic thickened the air. The foreign sorcery incited something within her. Something unfamiliar. A bucket was pushed in her face. She took the wooden pail without looking away from the sea. The very stench of alien witchery agitated her own strange mystical energy. The fiery heat of her somehow altered super charged power practically scorched the inner lining of her veins as it raced through her vessels. Who would dare interrupt the supernatural and natural balance on this scale without justification? It was like using a heat seeking missile to take out a mosquito. Un-fucking-called for!

Instead of allowing the now aggressive powers within her the retribution it sought, she settled just to keep the occupants on the ship safe. So, while she dumped water from the boat's floor, she chanted under her breath. Soon, a protective shield formed around them in an elusive form of the previous sunny day. The Vikings and slaves alike erupted in praises to Odin.

"Yep," Bonnie forced a smile. "Praise Odin!"

"Come, Mystical One," Bjorn stood over her, his shadow casting her much needed shade.

Distrust and her impromptu guest starring role on a show which highlighted the fact that Vikings had no problems raping captives, raised her guards. Though realms out of her element, she was far from ignorant.

Her gaze moved over him in an attempt to size him up. "Where?"

"To the prow," He gestured towards the front of the ship before snatching the pail from her hands, and then tossing it aside. "I wish to learn more about you and this numinous land named Mystic Falls." When she took too long to follow he locked his hands behind his back and considered her. "If I wanted to lie with you then all I need do is have you. Do you believe anyone here would be minded to protect you?"

She lifted her chin as she glanced about the ship to see not one person watching them for concern purposes. Every eye she caught on them looked to be pre-historic Shade Room and TMZ reporters. If they had tea kettles back then they'd no doubt be ready to spill the damn things. No, Bjorn spoke the truth. No one on that confoundingly long boat would lift a calloused palm to help her.

"Alright." Exhaling, she stood and leveled him with a glare even a PMS'ing demon would be incapable of exacting. "But fair warning, no one on this ship can protect me better than me. And make no mistake, I'm not above defending my own honor."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "That is a certainty about you of which I'll never be mistaken, Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

[sunshinejins]

if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi!  jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic.  so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks.  unless people really like it.  then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t.  In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time.  It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died.  And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though.  Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions.  She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee.  Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore.  Like at all.

The world kept spinning.  Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup.  Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class.  Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom.  Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine.  Julie watches her with slight awe.  Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled.  Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong.  You haven’t been around music properly in what?  A year?  What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment.  Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run.  Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight.  Very relaxed and casual vibes.  I could pick you up from your apartment and take you.  We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.”  Julie hesitates.  It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears. 

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look. 

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.” 

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.” 

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago.  The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside.  Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.  

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks.  Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones.  Allison was right, unsurprisingly.  If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom.  Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back.  She’s taking a step.  She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto.  The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom.  It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised?  Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg.  You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area.  Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling.  The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath.  The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well.  Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls.  Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back.  The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people.  It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died.  Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them?  It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months.  She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her.  Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.  

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock.  Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you.  I can play.  If you need it.”  Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.”  Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head.  He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits.  The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow.  “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.  

“No, I offered.  Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone.  Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes.  It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach.  Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close.  He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see?  And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.”  Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy.  “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none.  We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says.  Julie isn’t sure.  She really isn’t.  In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second.  Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again.  Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight.  The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up.  She’s supposed to start this song.  This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier.  She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth. 

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

[getoapologist]

the way they handled shiro’s storyline already sickened and angered me.

but especially ESPECIALLY after watching she-ra. it’s not that they couldn’t go explicit with it, or they weren’t allowed to because of “the chinese market” or whatever other lame excuse they gave. they were fully capable of it and they didn’t. they didn’t fight hard enough. and god i know there’s something inherently wrong with a system that makes you fight for something like this. and at the time i tried to put it into perspective and rationalize it like, “well, baby steps! progress was made even if it wasn’t the progress i hoped for.” but god. if shiro’s storyline in vld was “baby steps” than she-ra put on moon shoes and circumvented the world 80 times before jumping to the literal moon and back again.

i may have to check official timelines on this, but if i remember correctly she-ra was literally about to/just started airing when voltron ended. its not like years or even decades had past to make strides as big as it did. and honestly? i dont wanna hear the whole “theres no room for comparison” here. because i heard that same shit over and over again when the vld finale aired and people kept comparing it to the adventure time ending. “oh but its different networks yaddah yaddah.” well guess what! here are the perfect circumstances you’ve all been waiting for! both are dreamworks and both were made around relatively the same time period.

one has COUNTLESS lgbt characters, both canon and implied and would require a whole other essay just to list. and the other had only ONE canon main character (who’s reveal of this was Heavily censored and would honestly only be picked up on if you were involved in the fandom at any point in time). and whose storyline after said reveal was pushed to the sidelines and fucking neglected for the remainer of the series only to shoehorn in a marriage in the CREDITS with him and an UNNAMED CHARACTER.

which okay, i know if you know nothing about the show you may be asking yourself. “oh but user kittygane? what if that was simply the best choice? would you have preferred him to end up sad and alone instead of getting at the very least an explicit confirmation of his gayness?” and to that i say: oh you sweet summer child. theres a variety of reasons why this very much was Not the preferred endgame for the beloved takashi shirogane. but for simplicity’s sake, i’ll break it down into three:

1. it went against his dream and entire character arc.

shiro is established from the start as loving space and adventure above all else. hell, even his whole storyline with his ex, adam—which was the storyline that Confirmed his queerness—is centered around him literally preferring to die trying on a mission in space than live out the rest of his days on earth even if its against the wishes of the person he’s committed to. so don’t you think by the end of the story, when he’s no longer dying and finally has all the time and means in the world to explore space as he has always wanted, he would take it? instead of retiring at 30 and settling down with a guy he just met? no? just me? ok.

2. even if he didn’t get married. there’s literally nothing wrong with a gay character ending up alone at the end of a series.

finding romantic love isnt the end all and be all of happiness. and i feel like thats an important message to send regardless of sexuality. that’s all i’ll say about this. gay love stories are of course a beautiful and great thing to have. but if you’re gonna do it at least fucking do it right.

3. even if they still wanted to do this, (albeit hopefully without unraveling his character development) man #3 wasn’t even the best choice for this.

i left this last because i am in danger of sounding like a shipper. but if we’re being completely logical here, lets play a thought exercise.

let’s pretend you have a friendship you establish from the very first episode between character a and character b. this friendship grows and develops as your characters do. mutual respect is always there. a connection, that does not exist between the other characters, is emphasized and even weaponized by the enemy. character a is even willing to DIE for character b, says so on multiple occasions and almost does it ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS. so. you’re on the final season of your tv show. you finally confirm in an episode that character b is gay and had an ex that died in battle (the circumstances and explicitness of which we will not go into). episodes go on and this friendship and connection you had literally emphasized for seven seasons straight is suddenly non-existent and ignored. character b despite being a major contributor/character for the whole run is rendered a minor character. ending credits: character b gets married off to rando. character a’s face is suspiciously not visible in the shot. roll credits

do you think that was the most logical course of action?

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 23

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1095

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: Keep an eye out on Saturday for a Bonus Training Scene! Shoot me an ask/message if you’ll like to be tagged to the series!

poison & wine masterlist

Loki tightens the strap on your side before finally releasing you. You felt stiff and weighed down. All of the armor Loki had deemed necessary for you to wear was on your person and it was making you immobile. 

“So you get to wear your usual leather outfit and I have to wear all this,” you complain as you look down at the metal garbage that covers your arms and legs. “I can’t move.” 

“Would you prefer your usual dress and heels?” Loki offers. “I’m sure that’ll help you.” 

“At least I’ll be able to walk,” you mutter. “How am I supposed to fight if I can’t move?”

“Well, if all goes well, you shouldn’t have to fight at all.” 

Loki is still inspecting all of your armor pieces distracting himself in the menial task. You knew he was stalling. You just didn’t know why.

“Hey,” you call out to him. “What’s wrong?” 

“One simple lie has placed you into such terrible danger,” Loki sighs out. “And yet you face it with no fear.” 

“I have no reason to be afraid,” you answer. “You’ll be there with me.”

Loki’s surprise at your response is obvious on his face and you simply smile up at him.

“So enough with this,” you state as you start to undo the plates on your arms. “You’ve worried enough about me. It’s time for me to worry about you so… why aren’t you wearing any protection? You’re the one actually fighting this thing.”

“I’ve fought worse with less,” Loki answers. “I’ll be fine as is.” 

“If you say so,” you whisper, finally being able to stretch your arms and legs out. Loki doesn’t seem too pleased with your mobility but knew there was no point in arguing with you. “How about we get things started?” 

Loki snaps into focus and nods. 

“Right, tell me,” Loki states. “Do you have any experience with weapons?” 

“I know how to shoot a gun.” 

“Yes, well, Asgard isn’t very fond of that barbaric weapon so you’ll have to make do with the bare basics; a sword and the dagger I gifted you.” 

Loki states as he pulls out a sword from the armory. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate this at all,” you state as you take the sword from him. “But I thought you were gonna teach me how to use my magic.” 

“It’s called seidr,” Loki corrects as he leads you to the training grounds. “And we will get to those lessons soon enough. I need to see what you’re capable of.” 

Loki apparates a sword out of nowhere and takes a fighting stance against you.  

“Right, ok,” you mutter under your breath as you raise your own sword. “Well, this is heavier than I thought.” 

You expect some sort of countdown but Loki is quick. His sword hits yours causing it to fly out of your hand. You let out a sigh and look up at him. 

“How about we try close combat?”

“There should be no need for you to get close to anything,” Loki argues as he picks up your sword and hands it to you again. “Now let’s try again.” 

“Loki…” you sigh. “You said I had no fighting chance. Why are we wasting time in training me with a sword when we could be doing something more productive? Like the seidr.”

“Yes, Loki,” a voice calls out from behind you. “Why waste this precious lady’s time?” 

Loki’s jaw tightens. A scowl settling into his face as he glared at the person behind you prompting you to turn around to see who it is.

A man in silver armor steps into the arena with a woman by his side. The man was grinning while the woman seemed to wish to be anywhere else but there.  

“It’ll be best to teach her how to run, Loki,” he continues with a chuckle. “You won’t be able to keep her safe by pure magic tricks.”

“I’ve reserved the training grounds for a private practice,” Loki answers ignoring his mocking commentary. “What are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’ll come say hi,” he answers. “Meet the poor soul that has the tragedy to court you.” 

“Excuse me?” you can’t help but respond. You didn’t have much of a tolerance for a bully. Especially one who expected you to be a damsel in distress in need of his help. “And you are?” 

“Sir Fandral,” he introduces as he takes a step forward. He offers his hand for you to take but you ignore it. Fandral clears his throat and simply smiles, tucking his hand back behind him. “And this is the Lady Sif. You must be the Lady Y/N of Midgard.” 

“I am,” you answer, recognizing their names. “You’re Thor’s friends.” 

“Ah, so you know of us,” Fandral smiles. “That’s great.” 

“Thor speaks highly of you,” you continue. “I don’t see it.” 

Fandral’s grin falls while Loki snorts behind you. Fandral glances at Lady Sif who simply shrugs. She looked bored. As if she was used to being dragged into menial pissing contests. 

“You interrupted our practice,” you state. “Do you mind if we return to it?”

“Right, yes,” Fandral stammers out in surprise. “We shall leave you to it.” 

Fandral bows his head and turns to leave but the Lady Sif has yet to do the same. She looks at you as if she was still trying to make sense of your own character.

“Perhaps it’ll be best if you switched to a shortsword,” she suggests. “It’ll be lighter and more agile to move for a beginner. I can teach you how…” 

“Thanks for the suggestion but I can teach her just fine,” Loki interrupts her.

“I was speaking to her.” 

Though Sif’s help would be useful she was only offering it in spite Loki as a way of undermining him.

“Like he said,” you answer. 

Sif just sighs and nods reluctantly. 

“My offer still stands,” Sif states before turning to Loki. “You know she needs it for what’s to come.” 

Loki glares at her as she walks away so you simply obstruct his view of her. He looks at you pensively before motioning to your sword. You offer it to him and he simply casts it aside. You’re surprised at the act but he doesn’t allow you a chance to question him as he starts to speak.

“We’ll start off with protective spells,” Loki states. “From there, we’ll move to the attack.”

“Attack?” 

Loki takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Let’s hope you’ll have no use for it,” he answers. “Now, let’s begin.”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420 @pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Six: Go Alone

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! I hope you all are doing well. We get a touch salacious in this one, you could say. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst @kylolover96 @crownofmanga @eli-bourne

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

"So…" you began, swinging your legs back and forth nonchalantly from your customary spot in the co-pilot seat.

"If you have something to ask, then ask." The Mandalorian replied curtly.

Well that was encouraging. "I know it's none of my business, but I was...um, you and Xi'an, did you guys ever…" You trailed off, the reflection of your face in the back of his helmet reminding you anew of the prudence of silence. "You know what, f-forget I even asked, I'm sorry, I know I-"

"We did not." He interjected stiffly.

"Oh!" You hated the relief that bled into your voice, over-certain that he had picked up on it. "But...I mean, the way that she-"

"Ran asked some...things of me to, er, maintain the status quo on the team when we operated together. Xi'an was a...a loose cannon, too useful and dangerous to be left to her own devices." The bounty hunter explained. "She enjoys the hunt. So I was the unattainable quarry."

"Oh." You weren't quite sure what to make of that. "She...hunted...you?"

"Not literally. She'd be dead." He said flatly. "Figuratively."

"But you guys didn't like...y'know." You barely refrained from making some weird, suggestive gestures. You were relatively certain that would get you slabbed immediately, despite his assurances to the contrary.

He shrugged. "Nope. Wasn't interested in the compromises she offered, and she, even if she didn't know it, preferred the mystery over the man." His voice was soft. 

You wondered if he had wanted her to know him. Really know him. Asking that would be incredibly invasive though, even more so than you had been already, so you bit back the query in lieu of pretending to check the munitions terminal.

"Why?" 

You jumped at his question, even though he hadn't been overly loud or sharp. "I uh-! I just...I was just curious, that's all." You blustered, rushing to unbuckle the seat harness. "Sorry, excuse me, I hear the-"

He reached back and touched your wrist, halting you mid-flight. He didn't say anything. Hell, he didn't even turn in the seat. 

His fingers slowly wrapped around your wrist, squeezed once, and then he released you. 

Confused, flushed, your heart hammering in your throat, you escaped down the ladder into the sanctuary of the hold. 

Once there you sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest after a moment. Your face felt like it was on fire. What was that?! you asked yourself in a panic, your hands curling into tight fists over your knees. Was that his way of chastising you for being so nosy? Or was it something a little more difficult to define?

You could still feel the weight of his armored hand on your wrist, the gentleness of the squeeze that belied the raw strength he had displayed numerous times.

The child yawned awake in their bassinet and you lunged upright, more than ready for the distraction.

…

"Oh baby you're the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right." You began to sing several hours later, poking the frowning child and grinning when they burst into giggles. "And wherever you are and wherever you go, there's always gonna' be some light. But I gotta' get out, I gotta' break out now, before the final crack of dawn."

You scooped the kid up, swaying them back and forth in time with your singing.

"So we gotta' make the most of our one night together, cuz' when it's over, you know, we'll both be so alone…" You dipped the child, laughing through the chorus as they squealed and waved their tiny hands in glee. "Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes! When the night is over, like a bat out of hell, I'll be gone, gone, gone. Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes!"

You paused, posing dramatically and then continuing your madcap choreography with the child. They were clearly enjoying themselves, babbling along as you belted out the next part of the song and twirled through the hold.

"But when the day is done, and the sun goes down, and the moonlight's shining through...then, like a sinner before the gates of Heaven, I'll come crawling on back to you…" You gently tweaked the baby's nose, "you, youuuuu-" 

You spun around while taking a deep breath to carry on with the next verse, only to be met with the featureless stare of one Mandalorian bounty hunter. Your tune abruptly ended with a sharp hurk.

"You do cantina shows?" He asked casually after you had turned every shade of red imaginable. "You and the kid would be a hell of a performance." He slung one ankle over the other and leaned against the wall. "Came down to tell you that we're about ten minutes out from Sorgan."

"H-How long…" you trailed off, not sure if you really wanted to know. 

"Chorus." He answered the unfinished question. 

"Good. Great. Wonderful." You ducked your face to blow a raspberry on the child's cheek, using the time to effectively hide. Maker, this was so embarrassing!

"Was about to join in, but I prefer to leave singing and dancing to the professionals." He shrugged. "Singing is easier with a group of people who also wear armor and can't carry a tune to save their lives."

"You're not funny." You replied weakly.

"You sure about that, stowaway?"

"Positive. Unless you mean funny-looking."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "That cuts deep." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back slightly, giving you the impression that he was studying you. "I've set up a rendezvous location with Dune. Hopefully, I'll be there and back by tomorrow morning."

"Oh! She agreed?" You exclaimed, more than a little surprised.

"All I had to do was tell her the Imps were involved and she was chompin' at the bit." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "That being said, I'm gonna' take the kid with me and have you mind the ship."

"W...What?" You asked, uncertain if you had heard him correctly. 

"Look, it makes sense this way. Tracking fobs will be on the child. If I have him with me, both myself and Cara can keep him safe. Meanwhile, you have the ship primed and ready for takeoff. The failsafe."

"But…"

"You have to see it the way I do. If someone came after you and the kid while I was gone-" He cleared his throat. "I don't want to consider the outcome. So I'll bring him with me."

"No, I get it." You said shortly, moving past him to secure the child in their bassinet for the impending landing. They pouted, seeming upset that their playtime had come to such a sudden end. "I know, little one. We'll have more fun later. I promise." You whispered.

"Please don't be angry." The armored man sighed.

"I'm not angry." You retorted, "I'm...I'm peeved."

"Sounds kind of like you're angry." 

"Well that just...shows how much you know." You grumbled, latching onto the ladder and hauling yourself up into the cockpit (theoretically to escape from the bounty hunter). But of course, he followed. It is his ship, after all, you reasoned begrudgingly.

With the two of you standing awkwardly in the cockpit, it was more than a little cramped. The Mandalorian shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want anything to happen. To either of you." He sounded tired. "Whether you like it or not, the kid's a magnet for trouble. And out of the two of us, I'm the better fighter."

"I know that." You whispered, staring at the floor.

"I'm not...look, I know you care about him just as much as I do. Probably more. I barely remember blowing a hole in that droid and just praying that I shot it before it shot you." He muttered. "The idea of something happening to y--to that little womp rat is...dammit, I don't know. Maybe Xi'an was right. Maybe the Creed has made me soft." His tone was more frustrated now.

"I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

He huffed incredulously. "In my line of work?"

"Well, you may need to get new business chits." You allowed. "Ones that say things like 'bounty hunter, father of one'." 

He took your hands in his own, ignoring your pointed ribbing in favor of staring down at you. "I'll keep him safe." He assured you.

"You…" You shook your head, and then dropped your forehead to rest on his breastplate. "You had better." You whispered harshly.

The drive system beeped rapidly, signaling that the Crest was preparing to drop out of hyperspace. 

Which it did immediately. 

With extreme prejudice. 

You lost your balance and stumbled bodily into the Mandalorian, who lost his own footing and met the rear cockpit wall with a resounding clatter of beskar. He quickly shifted himself to press your back to the flat surface, his knees bent slightly to keep his balance and arms holding you steady while the ship's trajectory smoothed out. 

"You alright?" He finally asked, sounding a little breathless. He hadn't let go of you yet, probably waiting to make certain you were secure.

"Yeah, are you?" You responded in kind, worriedly looking up at him. "I hit you pretty hard, I'm sorry."

He swallowed audibly, taking an inordinate amount of time to reply, "I--I'm fine." 

"I guess this means it's time to get ready."

"Yeah." The Mandalorian nodded. Something strange lingered in the way he had his head bent low and slightly to the side, how soft his voice was. It settled into the pit of your stomach, leaving you tongue-tied in his arms. 

Early morning sunlight poured through the cockpit's transparent shielding, warming the steely blue of his armor to a fiery bronze. What would it be like to kiss him? The thought skittered through your mind and you felt a rush of shame, averting your eyes out of the nonsensical fear that he might be able to read your thoughts. Was it wrong to wonder about something like that if the object of the fantasy was a Mandalorian? 

"You...you can let go of me now." You pointed out quietly after several seconds. "I think we've evened out."

"Oh!" He exhaled sharply, scrambling to remove his hands. He bumped his helmet into your chin in his rush, flinching when you yelped in pain. "Shit, shit, hang on." He cupped your face, carefully framing your jaw so he could examine your mouth. "I'm sorry, that'll probably bruise." He said ruefully. 

"I'll be okay. Serves me right for treating you like a landing pad." You tried to joke, waving off his concern.

His thumb swept carefully beneath your split lower lip, the motion achingly cautious. "You're bleeding." He murmured, following it with another quiet, "I'm sorry."

"Hey, I'll be fine." You answered just as quietly. "It was an accident."

"I know, I just...I'll go get something for that."

…

A comlink was dropped into your waiting palm, and then the Mandalorian tapped the side of his helmet. "That's rigged to my in-ear. Just be careful with the talk button, it sticks sometimes."

"Of course, yeah." You said absently, closing your fingers around the small tube. 

"You're not listening." He observed, his shoulders sagging a little in resignation.

"N-No, I totally am!" You protested.

"You're concerned."

"...well, yes."

"Don't be." His helmet pressed to your forehead.

"You know, as much as you want to be an infallible constant or some...untouchable warrior, you're not." You closed your eyes. "I'm scared because things seem to be getting tighter and tighter. Like a noose." There it was. The honest truth. The low-lying panic that had your stomach in knots.

"That's the plan, yes." He stated ever-so-helpfully. His hands hovered warily for a second before gripping your shoulders. "Nothing will go wrong. And even if it does, I've gotten out of worse scrapes than some Imps trying to kill me." Maker, he might be the least capable person alive when it came to the task of reassuring someone.

"Is it so bad of me to not want you to have to get out of it in the first place?" You retorted. 

"No, of course not." He replied, sounding a little confused. "But this is how it's always been."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm being dumb again." You sighed. "Don't mind me."

He shook his head, then tipped it to the side. "You're not being dumb," He chastised, the tone of his voice strangely gentle again. "You're being careful. It's not your fault that I fight like I don't have anything to lose in nearly every situation." He hesitated for a moment. "It's...good of you to remind me. Makes me remember that I have others depending on me now." 

The smile was evident in his voice, and you felt your face light up despite your best efforts to maintain a neutral expression. "Well, good! You'd better stay safe, then. Promise me you will?"

The Mandalorian drew his thumb down the center of his breastplate, then tapped his fingers twice against his chin. "I promise." He said solemnly.

"What does that actually mean?" You asked curiously, gesturing at his chest.

"Thought in heart," He repeated the motion, "said with mouth. Two taps with two fingers on chin to indicate solid, rigid. Firm like beskar." You pulled your thumb down your chest and then tapped your chin in an approximation of his own gesture. He chuckled, moving forward and folding your fingers a little differently. "Just the first two of your hand. Index and middle. Trigger fingers." 

"D-Do you guys have other signs?" You queried, trying valiantly to hide how his touch had made your breath shudder.

"We wear helmets." He replied bluntly. "A lot of times we have to rely on gestures or body language instead of expressions." After a moment's pause he deadpanned, "this is the Way."

"Like what?"

He touched his hand to the side of his head, then fanned his fingers out. "Aru'e, enemy ahead, indicate how many with your fingers." He instructed, "So if there's three, you tuck your pinky, like this."

"What about this one?" You attempted to mimic the motion you had seen him direct at the child many times, startled when you heard him inhale roughly.

When he finally answered, his voice had a strange rasp to it. "Ad'ika. Little one, or Foundling. Start by pointing with two fingers. Again, solid, rigid, then one finger, for youth. Drag the thumb up from the corner of your mouth, for smile or joy, keep your hand open to indicate happiness." 

You clumsily tried to follow along, running through the gestures a few times until you didn't mix them up. Your heart squeezed in your chest as you realized that he had been silently referring to the child as a Foundling, as his Foundling. Possibly this entire time.

"Very good." He praised, thumping his armored knuckles against your own. "But just wait until we get to the difficult ones."

"How difficult are we talking?"

"You have shaadlar and nari, both of which mean move, but only one of them means to move. The other means move, just in general. So the gesture is like a shove, you put your whole arm into it like this…"

...

After he and the child left, you did your best to occupy yourself with some light repair work. The day stretched on like an interminable expanse, boredom and wariness combined to settle like a block of beskar in your stomach. 

You tried not to think about it, you really did. You didn't so much as touch the comlink. You kept yourself busy by sweeping out the hold, restacking and shoving the numerous crates into some semblance of order that wouldn't topple onto you in an emergency. Hell, you even used the cargo nets to actually secure the cargo. What was the world coming to?

Rain started to fall as the sun set, clouds tinted pink and orange from the fading rays. You squinted up at the sky and heaved a sigh, loathe to close yourself up in the Razor Crest but not incredibly eager to get rained on. 

You cast one last glance out towards the darkening woods as you waited for the hatch to close, shaking your head ruefully at your own behavior. This was pitiful.

You then proceeded to hang upside down in the ladder port long enough to give yourself a headache, staggering a little when you got to your feet. You fell into the captain's seat sideways, almost toppling off the other side of it with a quiet snicker. 

You wondered what he would say if he could see your antics. Probably something like, "get out of my chair, stowaway." Or maybe all you would get is that particular sigh he seemed to reserve just for you, the one that smacked of extra exasperation. You bit your lip, one foot on the floor moving the chair slightly side to side. 

How annoying. Right back where you started.

You cracked your knuckles and spread your fingers wide, imitating his sure motions as you hovered a safe distance above the toggles, switches and buttons on the control panels in front of you. You then shielded your eyes with your hand, staring studiously out from beneath your palm at the coniferous greenery that surrounded the Crest. 

"Hmm, yes stowaway, I see the problem." You mused theatrically, pitching your voice low to mimic his modulated tone, "the T of my visor appears to limit me to only seeing things that start with the letter T. Like tree." You turned your head, narrowing your eyes. "And troublemaker." Drawing an imaginary blaster, you sauntered over to the ladder port. "Alright quarry, you got two choices." You drawled, crouching by the port. "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in-"

You stopped dead, straining your ears. What was that noise? It sounded like…

It came again, louder this time. Like a wet boot hitting the floor with a dull splat. Your heart began to pound and you reached for your knife. I'm trapped up here. How did they get in? I set the proximity alarms-!

If it was Klatoonians, you could kiss your ass goodbye. They would be out for revenge, probably assuming that the Mandalorian was onboard. But you weren't about to give them an easy time.

You waited at the top of the ladder, holding your breath for what felt like forever. Every once in a while, you would hear that sound again and it would send a new rush of trepidation through you. You waited, and waited.

And waited.

The suspense was going to kill you before whatever was in the hold could.

You finally let your breath out in a slow rush, steeling yourself. The hold was still illuminated with the running lights. You should have a fighting chance against whoever was down there. At least, you wouldn't be fumbling totally in the dark. That was kind of like having an advantage, right?

Before you could think better of essentially throwing yourself at the enemy, you slid down the ladder and whirled to face your aggressor. "I'm warning you, I'm-!" You trailed off in confusion, looking around warily at the seemingly-vacant hold. "...armed?"

Down at your feet, there was a quiet splat and a mudjumper bumped into the side of your boot.

You sighed, "you've got to be fucking kidding me." You squatted down, scooping up the befuddled creature. "You little bastard. I ought to feed you to the kid." You threatened, giving it a tap on the snout. "I thought you were somebody coming to destroy me."

The mudjumper blinked up at you, and then licked one of its eyes. You grimaced. 

"Yeesh. Alright, I'm evicting you." Elbowing the button to open the bottom slat of the ramp, you tipped the amphibious beast back out into the woods. "And good riddance." You huffed, brushing your hands off on your tunic. 

...

Late that evening you sprawled out on the floor of the cockpit, just enough room between the seats and the door to keep you comfortable. You could have slept in the bunk, of course, but you had been avoiding it. The memories of that droid staring you down were a bit too fresh at this particular juncture.

You had the comlink on the floor next to your head in case you needed it. You had checked and doublechecked the proximity alarm system. All was quiet in the woods around the Razor Crest. The only thing left was to shut your eyes and attempt to sleep.

Half an hour later you huffed in aggravation, rolling over onto your back for what felt like the hundredth time. Overhead, rain pattered softly against the clear cockpit shielding. 

Your gaze lingered on the comlink, picking it up after a momentary debate and pressing the button on the side. "H-Hey, are you there?" Your throat was so dry all of a sudden.

"Yeah." He replied almost immediately. "Trouble?"

You closed your eyes in relief at the familiar sound of his voice. "No, sorry. I just…figured I'd check in before I go to bed. Status update."

"Made it to the rendezvous point. Set up a post here for the night. Will head out at dawn if no contact." He said quietly, static softening his modulation. 

"How's the baby?"

"Tired." There was a muffled rustling noise. "He conked out as soon as we stopped moving."

"Make sure he eats, please."

"Copy."

You sat there awkwardly for several seconds before clicking the button one last time to wish him a peaceful night (which he didn't respond to, of course) and placing the comlink carefully back on the floor. You wrapped your arms around your legs, thumping your forehead against your knees in frustration. "Why is it so hard to talk to him?" You mumbled. "Gods, I just…" You trailed off, rubbing at your eyes. "This is stupid. I'm being stupid." You berated yourself, sliding down onto your back even as you spoke.

You stared up at the rain-speckled shielding for several more minutes, chewing on your lower lip feverishly while you replayed his voice in your head. Even when he didn't speak, he somehow managed to say what he needed to. You thought of the tilt of his helmet when he was studying something, the way his hands hungrily devoured his environment. He could be as bad as the kid sometimes when it came to touching things. 

Then, there was the soft hitch of his breath when he had to speak a little louder; his vast library of groans, grunts and sighs. For being so stoic, he certainly made a lot of noises. Noises that, should your mind be so inclined towards thinking in a more lascivious manner, piqued your interest.

A wicked thought came to you, riding on the memory of him being poisoned. Honest words tumbling out of his mouth in a frenzy, the way he had looked at you, really looked at you. You could feel his stare even through his visor, "nice t' look at, too."

Did he really think about you like that? And earlier, when the ship had dropped out of hyperspace...

Born of your loneliness, or maybe just touch-starved infatuation, your imagination conjured up a racy scenario for you to enjoy. The idea of him settling in between your legs with a modulator-filtered curse had your breath quickening, and you warred momentarily with your guilt. Ludicrously, you came up with the justification that as long as you didn't imagine him without his helmet, it probably wasn't that offensive. 

Effectively granted permission for your thoughts, you undid the clasps on your placket and shoved your pants down around your ankles. Tonight, you decided, you would take your time. You were truly alone for the first instance in what felt like a short eternity, and it was time to indulge. 

You rolled over and got your knees beneath you, arching your back. Your trembling palm traveled down the length of your body, the slightly-colder skin making you dream of the slide of beskar on your sensitive belly and thighs. The first graze of your fingers had you whimpering into your blanket, gods it had been too long. You were barely even wet yet and already you were aching. You sobbed out a breath, your chest rubbing against the blanket with your motions. 

In your mind, however, it was the Mandalorian cupping your breasts, the Mandalorian's fingers that tortured you in near silence. You canted your hips, whispering, "please," already begging for more. Would he keep his gloves on during the act, stain the leather with your arousal? Or would he be too hungry to resist touching you barehanded? "Stars, please-" 

You plucked at your nipple with a soft little whine and teased yourself with your fingers at the edge of your entrance. How full would he make you feel? Would he shove himself in all at once, or make you beg for it? Would he tease you?

Your fingers plunged in and you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head when you curled your index. Just thinking about him touching you in this way was enough to have you in spasm! Stars, you had it bad. 

But what if he wanted you just as much as you wanted him? What if, what if...

"Oh please fuck me…" you moaned. "I need you, pl-please-" It felt silly, but also infinitely hotter to finally say it out loud, almost as if you were practicing for the real thing. "Gods, fuck me open with that Mandalorian cock, please please please-" you rambled, giving in to the urge to be as filthy as you wished. 

Your own sense of touch faded away, replaced with the scuff of imaginary leather or the sleek glide of beskar. What would he sound like? Would he be vocal? Or would he be stoic, silent, just taking what he needed from you?

"I'm so wet for you." You crooned, spreading your legs a little wider. "So wet, just for you…" Slick pooled in your palm when you ground your clit down against the heel of your hand, the heated noise it made startlingly loud in the quiet of the cabin. "I want to feel your cock, want to know what you feel like inside me, gods, please…"

You had never felt so boldly lewd in all your life as you fucked yourself with your own fingers, your mouth running away from you when you sped up.

"It's not enough." You panted. "Not enough, my fingers aren't enough…gods, I need my Mandalorian to fuck me right. Please, please please I need you." You bit down on the blanket, rocking your hips against your hand frantically. "Please, please, fill me up, please, fuck me, fuc-k me…" you begged into the fabric, your thighs quivering as your body pulled tight in anticipation.

When you came apart, it was like stars filled your eyes. You writhed against your own hand, hips shuddering out of sync. You wished that he was inside you, you wished more than anything that you could feel him-

"I'm coming, please-" You whimpered through your orgasm, relaxing boneless on the blanket as exhaustion finally dragged at you.

When you could move again, you wiped your fingers off on your thigh and stretched, moaning in self-satisfaction before tugging your pants back up. Then, you shakily got to your feet to go clean yourself up in the refresher. 

You barely remembered getting back to your blankets, slumber already encroaching even as you climbed the ladder up to the cockpit.

…

The next morning you awoke early, feeling incredibly refreshed and chipper. Clearly that evening of hands-on indulgence was what you had been missing from your life, and you vowed to make more time for yourself in the future.

After your hearty breakfast of canned meat and some vegetables you managed to scare up, you retrieved the comlink to check in on the Mandalorian. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, all clear on my end. ETA?" 

No reply. 

You frowned, turning the small tube over in your hand. The button to talk was still depressed even after you had released it, effectively silencing any message that might have been directed at you. You pursed your lips and tugged out your knife, carefully using the tip to free up the button. Then, you tried again, this time being more delicate with the button so it didn't get caught. "Stowaway to Mandalorian, sorry for any feedback. Technical difficulties. All clear on my end. ETA?"

"I told you the damn button would get stuck if you weren't careful." He griped, making you grin.

"Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" You teased.

"Didn't sleep well. We're fifteen minutes out, Dune walking drag. No pursuers yet, but get everything stowed and ready." He ordered curtly.

"Will do." You replied, saluting even though he couldn't see you. 

It didn't take much time for you to have all equipment squared away in preparation to launch, and you waited impatiently at the top of the loading ramp to spot the gleam of his armor through the trees. 

Soon enough, out he and Cara strode with the child in tow. The little one was babbling wildly as they toddled along beside the two adults, obviously carrying on quite the conversation. "Dune!" You greeted the ex-trooper happily, getting pulled into a rib-cracking hug for your trouble. "And I missed you!" You sang to the kid, scooping them up off the ground to briefly fly overhead. "Were you good for your papa?" You asked, beeping their nose softly. "Didn't cause him any trouble, right?"

You heard the Mandalorian sputter strangely, the armored man suddenly struck by a fit of coughing. Cara thumped him on the back worriedly. "Tadpole's an angel. Eats all his vegetables and everything." She assured you with a grin.

"Enough small talk. There's still one more stop after this." The Mandalorian managed to say, straightening back up and fidgeting with his gauntlets.

"Are you alright?" You asked, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. He actually jumped at the contact and you pulled back, confused.

"Sorry, I...I didn't get much sleep." His chuckle sounded forced, but he still bumped his helmet briefly against your forehead before he headed up the boarding ramp. 

Carasynthia cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed at the armored man's back. But all she did was huff out a breath and follow after him, leaving you to bring up the rear with the child. "All that battle-rattle must be scrambling his brain." She muttered to you, making you snicker.

"Sit down and strap in." The Mandalorian called, already halfway up the ladder to the cockpit.

"Well pollywog, you heard the boss." Dune shrugged at the child, smirking when they started giggling. "Stars, why can't human kids be as nice as this one? Human kids always look like angry piglets."

…

The final stop between Sorgan and Nevarro was on Arvala-7.

An old Ugnaught came to greet you all at the door of what was clearly his modest moisture farm, his deep-set eyes roving over the group laid out in front of him. "I see your family has grown, Mandalorian. More Foundlings?" He asked dryly.

"I need your help." The armored man rasped, getting right to the point.

"I assumed as much. Why else would you return? Come in, all of you. Whatever you need, I'm certain it can wait until after supper." The Ugnaught urged, waving for you to follow.

The small dwelling was somewhat cramped with everyone squeezed into the common area, and you kept accidentally bumping elbows with Cara. After the Ugnaught had plated some strange-looking concoction (which ended up tasting surprisingly good), he settled down into his chair with a grunt. "I too have gained an addition, my armored friend." He mused, gesturing towards the doorway.

A tall, thin droid carefully bent nearly double to enter the structure, a tray gripped in its digits. "Would anyone care for some tea?" It enquired.

Before it had finished speaking the Mandalorian had his blaster out and aimed. You blinked up at him, a little startled. The Ugnaught raised a peaceable hand. "Please, please, lower your blaster. It will not harm you."

"That thing is programmed to kill the baby." The Mandalorian snapped furiously.

"What?!" You shrieked, hurrying to unsheath your vibroblade. Cara's elbow slammed against your bicep as she pulled her own blaster out and you yelped, almost losing your grip on the knife.

The droid's multiple sets of eyes whirred in the silence that followed, the metallic being observing the weapons leveled at it. "That was its intended purpose, yes. But I have rebuilt it." The Ugnaught answered serenely.

"How much of it, though?" You waved your hands, sputtering, "I don't mind droids, but hell."

"Your Mandalorian trusts me, or at least my work. IG-11 no longer poses a threat to the child." 

"I trust it under certain circumstances." The armored man muttered, his blaster staying exactly where it was. "Is it still a hunter?"

"No. But it will protect."

The IG unit seemed to be staring at the Mandalorian, who was glaring back at it harder than you had ever seen him glare. Really putting his shoulders into it.

"Tea?" The droid offered him a steaming cup, clenched in spindly fingers. You heard the Mandalorian exhale hard as Cara nodded in his stead, holstering her blaster and gingerly accepting the cup. At least one of you could be polite!

The Ugnaught rose from his chair after several tense moments had passed, stating that he needed to feed the blurrgs. The Mandalorian stalked out behind him, the armored man transparently attempting to have a private conversation. "Watch that." He ordered you curtly, gesturing at the droid.

You nodded, gamely turning to stare intently at the machine that was currently standing in a...well, not very menacing fashion. You imagined most individuals, even trained killing robots, wouldn't look particularly threatening while balancing a tray of tea-things. 

"I appear to have upset him." IG-11 commented after a moment of enduring your stare. "This was not my intention."

"Don't beat yourself up about it." Cara remarked with a touch of amusement. "He's got some weird thing about droids."

Your mind flew back to Z, the droid that had cornered you in the bunk. "I kind of understand why." You said quietly. "There was...well, an incident, with the kid and I." Cara raised an eyebrow. "We got...we were, um. We were trapped, in the bunk."

"Oh." The ex-trooper said weakly. "Well. I guess I can...I guess I'll give him that one then. Someone was going after the tyke?" She asked, reaching out a gentle hand to said tyke. The kid babbled happily, their little fingers grasping at Cara's.

"Yeah, it was a droid. One of the compound-eyed ones, too fast for me to stop it." You mumbled. "All I had was my knife."

Cara was quiet for a while, just swinging the baby's arm to and fro. "If you do not require further libations, I shall go and assist Kuiil." The droid announced stiffly, breaking the silence. 

"Wait!" You exclaimed, rushing to stand. "Just, um, wait until they come back, please?" You went on to hastily suggest, "can you, uh, show me where to put the dishes? Maybe we can clean this up while they're busy."

The droid's head rotated on a strange axis, so it took you a second to realize that it was nodding at you. "Of course. It is part of my normal duties to clear the table. It would be wise for me to accomplish this task before attempting a new one."

Inwardly you breathed a sigh of relief, almost positive that you had saved this droid from certain doom. You couldn't help but wonder how the Mandalorian knew this particular IG unit was programmed to kill the child. Perhaps they had crossed paths previously?

…

The Mandalorian's discussion with the Ugnaught Kuiil secured him not only his support, but the help of the droid as well and apparently, several blurrg. 

You were certain this trip would be a logistical nightmare. Good thing you had spent nearly an entire day cleaning out the hold! Even with the room made by stacking things properly, it would no doubt be a snug fit.

Kuiil insisted that you all stay the night either way, the Ugnaught's tone brooking no argument. The Mandalorian had heaved a sigh, but acquiesced. 

The child was already drowsy, the potent combination of a full belly and busy day working overtime to ensure a restful night. Kuiil actually rustled up a small crate for the kid to sleep in, his large hands remarkably careful as he swaddled the yawning child in an old quilt.

You were just settling them into their makeshift bed for the evening when you heard the familiar rattle of beskar. The armored man poked his head into the room after a momentary delay, his voice quiet when he requested your presence in the Crest as soon as possible.

You glanced up at him, a little confused. "Me? But-" You began to protest, indicating downwards at the child.

Cara nudged you towards the doorway, her lips quirked into an odd, almost smug smile. "I can manage tucking in the pollywog for tonight. Go help him out." She urged.

Part Seven

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

It would be cool if they did another 400 days type mini series with some characters. like showing us the beginning/middle/different parts of the apocalypse from the perspectives of: Marlon, Louis, Violet, Sophie, James, and Lilly. I think it would do well

I think something like this would do well, too. We talk about this a lot and I keep hoping that if we continue to talk about it, they’ll somehow hear us and actually do it haha. 

Just think of the possibilities- a game with each episode dedicated to following a different protagonist during a different time in the apocalypse, telling a previously unheard story. They could even do more character-driven stories that focus more on that aspect rather than the walkers and outside dangers, y’know? 

Really the only downside I could see if they actually did this is that people outside the fandom would be whiney about it? I mean, people who casually played Telltale games would look at Skybound like “Rehashing old characters who aren’t muh Clementine? Pass.” Y’know? And to be fair, I could see people within the fandom being disappointed, too. 

But a majority? I think we’d all be happy to just have another twdg installment if Skybound wanted to make one... as long as they leave Clementine alone. That’s my one condition haha. 

Leave her alone, Robert. 

I’ll even throw out a bunch of possibilities for episodes-

Carley and Doug - I would love an episode that starts with Carley working as a reporter just as the walkers come. We could meet her crew, go through when they were attacked and explore the trauma she experiences after watching her producer get eaten alive in front of her. 

Then, in comes our hero: Doug. Doug saves her life, and the two of them manage to escape and hideout. This is the perfect time to explore Doug’s character, too, as well as the relationship he and Carley had before they met up with the drugstore crew. 

We can learn more about how Carley came to be so good with firearms and more about Doug’s technical background. Not only that, but it would be interesting to see these two actually interact since, y’know... they canonically have romantic feelings for one another. 

Then the episode could end with them meeting Glenn outside, who brings them back to the group at the drugstore. 

The St Johns - Here me out, but I would totally be on board for an episode about these people and how they starting picking off their farmhands for food. We don’t even have to play as any of the St Johns, we could play as a farmhand that actually escaped that fate after discovering what these people were doing. 

It could definitely be more horror based, too. Like a cat and mouse sort of chase scene with the protagonist and Andy or Danny with them escaping with their life at the end and journeying off. 

We could also see more of the bandits and how that agreement came to be with them. We could see more of Jolene, too. 

Lilly - Okay, I want to know what the hell happened to Lilly between s1 and s4. From what I’ve gathered and inferred, Lilly wandered alone for years before finding the delta, the first place she ever considered home since... well, the motor-inn. Which... is nuts. 

Then there’s all the trauma of losing Larry on top of what a piece of shit he was. I know I laugh at her for being all “No more ice cream, no more hair dryer” when she was telling Clementine about Larry cutting their power but we don’t know much about just how abusive Larry was. 

Plus, we don’t know what happened to her mom. Larry still carried her wedding ring even into the apocalypse and died with it in his pocket. There’s just... a lot of things. 

So I think an episode about Lilly by herself could be an interesting exploration of her being her own enemy, y’know? When I say character-driven, I mean solely character-driven with Lilly having flashbacks or nightmares or talking to herself or even hallucinations. Think Michonne, but even better executed. And with no ghost children. Maybe a ghost Larry, though. Which is arguably worse. 

And it could end with someone from the delta finding her. 

Christa and Omid - I feel like this is an obvious one since everyone loves these two and we’re still salty that they never brought Christa back. So it’d be cool to see these two either before meeting Lee’s group, or their time with Clementine between s1 and s2.

This is the only time I’ll allow Clementine to be here. If they feel they have to plop Clementine into this, then do it this way. We could explore Clementine’s guilt of what happened to Lee and the trauma she suffered while with the stranger, we could explore Christa’s pregnancy and learn more about her and Omid’s relationship. 

We could see some dad moments with Omid as he and Clementine bond, perhaps dive into the fear and anxiety of a baby that’s coming, too. 

Kenny and Sarita - So... while Kenny’s not my favorite person, I can’t deny that I’d be interested in seeing him after he apparently escapes the walker horde after killing Ben and what he went through before he met Sarita. 

Hell, have an episode where we play as Sarita as she stumbles upon Kenny and how she saved him from the restaurant he was hiding in. We could get a glimpse into Kenny from Sarita’s point of view and what they went through during their time together. We could learn about Walter and Matthew, too. 

Honestly, I just want to know more about Sarita as a character rather than a plot device to die in order to further Kenny’s development, y’know?  

Bonnie - Yeah, yeah, I know. No one likes Bonnie and “who wants to play as Bonnie again?? she sucks??”, but damn it... I want them to redeem how badly they fucked up with her story in 400 Days. 

I want an episode about her struggling with her drug addiction and how it affected her when the dead started walking. What she was willing to do to get her fix, y’know? Bring back Leland and Dee and how they helped with her road to recovery.

Leland himself even said that when they found her, she was still so stuck on those drugs. I think exploring that could be a fascinating experience. 

Jane - An episode about Jane and Jamie? An exploration of Jane’s struggle with keeping her sister alive while having that internal survival instinct trying to take over all leading to her finally giving Jamie what she wanted- to leave her. Then how that guilt and loss took a toll on Jane and hardened her.

And like, I know Jane is kind of in the same boat as Bonnie where a lot of people [specifically Kenny followers] absolutely hate her and would whine about an episode dedicated to exploring her character, but I don’t care. I’d play it, I’d love to understand Jane more, even if I don’t particularly like her. 

David - This one is here for selfish reasons. I want an episode all about David. I don’t care what you do, but I want to see David’s struggle of literally losing his entire family in a single night, as well as losing the world to the apocalypse and having to move forward.

Like... seriously, remember what Kate was all “I bet David was happy when the world ended” or some shit? I actually disagree, Kate, since the day the world ended, he lost his father, mother, brother, uncle, his fucking children, and you, his wife within a night.  He spent years thinking you all were dead while traveling with Ava and his unit, fighting the dead and trying to survive.... but no, the day the walkers came was probably super great for him. Ugh. 

The bonus is we get more Ava, too. Also, I don’t think anyone would oppose if you threw in the whole “David and Lingard might’ve had a thing”... just sayin’. We stan bisexual David. 

Javier - Throwing this one in there because I think an episode about Javi, Kate, Gabe, and Mari would do incredibly well. Everyone misses the Garcia’s, everyone was bummed that we ever got a follow up to what Javi was up to after ANF. 

Y’know... since ANF was a mess, they probably didn’t feel they could do a follow up because people wouldn’t play... but I’m telling you, we’d play another adventure as Javier Garcia. I don’t know what kind of story you’d tell, but it doesn’t matter. Well, it does... but ya get me. 

Plus, more Gabe and Mariana content. C’mon. 

James - *slams fists on table* I want my James and the whisperers episode damn it!! And I’m gonna keep saying it until someone either makes it or pays me to shut up. 

I don’t care if you like James or not, you can’t deny how fascinating it would be to have an entire episode dedicated to the whisperers. On top of that, we’d get to see James and Charlie and how their relationship suffered during their time with the whisperers, as well as James realizing what a monster he became. 

Maybe we could have a scene where James actually makes his famous mask, or a scene of James escaping them and leaving Charlie behind. It could end with James in his camp until he hears gunshots one night. When he goes to investigate, he finds Clementine and AJ trying to escape Lilly and Abel and we get him intervening from his perspective. 

There ya go, there’s a second Clementine cameo that doesn’t fuck everything up. Ta-dah. 

Sophie and Minerva - A popular one that most of us would want. Them after they were taken away and how they suffered within the delta. It’d be cool to play as Sophie, and tragic since we know how that would end. But we could be the one who acts out and tries to escape all while doing our best to keep Minerva from giving into them... which again, imagine the heartbreak. 

The Ericson crew - Like with the twins, this would be a popular one that most people would want to play. While I’d rather they kept their fingers off Louis and Violet since they’re bound to fuck them up, I can’t deny that I want to know what happened at the school during the first days. 

We could even play as Ms. Martin as she chooses to stay and take care of all these kids, how she bonds with them before inevitably meeting her fate in the greenhouse. 

And c’mon, you know you want to see baby child versions of our Ericson kiddos. Imagine Louis and Violet at these young ages? Seeing other kids we never got to meet? We’d eat it up! ...Well, assuming they did a good job with their characterizations. Y’know. 

---

Those are all the major ones I’d like to see, but hey, if any of you had other ideas for episodes following characters I didn’t mention, feel free to share! 

[flameraven]

Good Omens Fic Rec Masterpost - Part Two

 Hello hello I have read MANY MORE fics in this fandom now so it’s time to add on to my previous recs. Part One can be found here: https://flameraven.tumblr.com/post/187742832545/good-omens-fic-recs-masterpost General info! No fics rated higher than M, and that’s usually for violence not sex. I headcanon the husbands as being in an asexual relationship, so any fics I rec will have no sex, or only have sexy stuff alluded to or briefly mentioned.

The Soft Zone (TM)

all the days - G / darcylindbergh

War of Attrition- G / out_there / 8k - 3 gifts Crowley gives Aziraphale

A Meddling of Houseplants - T/ wingedspirit / 6k - Ophelia (a peace lily) is tired of Crowley and Aziraphale’s hopeless pining, and takes matters into her own leaves.

Sweetest in the Gale - T / wingedspirit / 3.8k - Gabriel can sense Aziraphale’s love for Crowley, and confronts “Aziraphale” about it before his execution

Deck the Halls - G / forthegreatergood / 18k - two idiots attempt to acquire mistletoe for the holidays in order to convey their feelings for the other.

Tartan Wrapping Paper - G / Arej / 2k - Crowley may not have quite gotten the message about the tartan all those years ago

a prize-winning philodendron - G / Elsajeni / <1k - Crowley does look, and sighs heavily. “Angel,” he says, “of all the plants you could have tried keeping, why did you start with something this fussy?”

Silver and Gold - G / asparkofgoodness / 1.5k - Crowley buys a ring.

Futile Devices - G / ticketybye / 3k - Yes, Crowley has imagined. He has craved. But being in Aziraphale’s close proximity has had to be enough. He’s not even sure he deserves that. But this, this feels like it felt to be commissioned the stars. It feels like being entrusted with something precious and fragile.

The Weight of Words Unspoken - G / rattatatosk / 1.8k - Aziraphale has always hinted to Crowley when he needed to leave. After the Apoca-wasn’t, he asks Crowley to stay.

J’Aime (I Love) - G / yourpaceangel - Crowley is searching for what the ‘J’ means.

the other way round - G / darcylindbergh / <1k - Aziraphale gets hair pets for once.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too) - G / soft_october / 1.5k - Crowley is trying not to go to fast, ends up stalled out completely. Aziraphale decides he will have to get creative. 

In Good Hands - G / Sunjinjo / 14k - Aziraphale was created wearing a golden ring. It’s now the last remaining aspect of his original attire.One day, he tries to take it off. The rest follows naturally. (Marriage Proposal)

One Golden Glance (Of What Should Be) - G / Sunjinjo / 8.5k - Crowley takes up painting after the Apocalypse.

Misfit / Safe Haven - G / Mothfluff / 2k - Aziraphale provides a safe space for the Soho queer community to gather

seasons, changes - G / the_pen_is_mightier / 2k - In the autumn Aziraphale and Crowley go out apple picking.

on the necessity of a temptation - M / darcylindbergh / 4.5k - Crowley squinted at him. He said, slowly, as if sounding around the words [...] “But doing things is what we do. Why would—what would be the point of me being here otherwise?”

In Other Words, Baby, Kiss Me - T / mikkimouse / 4.5k - Five times Aziraphale kissed Crowley and one time Crowley (finally) kissed him back.

It's Getting Hard, This Holding Back - T / ZehWulf / 13k - Crowley decides to lure Aziraphale into Explicit Gestures of Romantic Affection. Aziraphale sets a cuddle trap

give you more to hold on to - T / cryptidkidprem / 4k - Crowley nods. "It's..." He looks down at their joined hands, and takes a long, deep breath. “We’re not— We’re not supposed to need this, y’know?” He lifts their joined hands up, lets them fall again. “You and I. Angels, demons. We're not meant to need all this. This touchy-feely stuff, all this affection, this—” a hitch in his breath— “Love.”

two parallel lines -lineffability

don’t let me wake up - acuteangleaziraphale

how to let go - jlmarch

Mornington Crescent -politeanarcy

Wingfic

Symmetry in Favor - G / kedreeva / 8k - Five times Crowley preens Aziraphale's wings, and one time Aziraphale preens Crowley's.

London Calling - G / forthegreatergood / 30k - Come for Crowley’s ridiculous 1970′s bed, stay for Feelings and extensive wing pets.

Hurt/Comfort

Be Ye Therefore Merciful - T / AmberDiceless / 9.5k - Book!Verse. Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted.

Pigeon Girlfriends with a Long Preamble - T / SleepySelfLoathing / 8k - All Crowley wanted was to spend a nice night in with his husband, so of course he ends up summoned by a bunch of cultists instead. Why would he expect anything different....This would probably be a lot easier to deal with if he wasn't wearing Aziraphale's fluffiest bathrobe.

All Creatures that Have the Breath of Life - G / Elsajeni / 4k - Aziraphale fishes a very sodden Crawly out of the water during the Flood.

Touched by an Angel (And it Bloody Hurts) - G  /hedgehog-o-brien / 7k - Aziraphale can’t touch Crowley without burning him.

Douse the Fire, Help Me Breathe  - G / Arej / 1.5k - Even demons fear fire, when they've watched their world burn.

In a City Under Aerial Bombardment  - G / battle_cat / 3k - After the church and the bomb and the books.

Small Mercies - G / rattatatosk / 4k - Crawly gets smited. Aziraphale lends a hand.

Easier Than Air - G / A_Candle_For_Sherlock / 3.5k - The world hasn't ended, and everything is fine. They're fine. It's terrifying.

attachment - T / artenon / 4.5k - Crowley crosses over to open the passenger door for Aziraphale, and Aziraphale’s attention is drawn to Crowley’s uneven gait, the light, too-quick steps and the rocking back and forth on his heels as he holds the door open and waits for Aziraphale to get in.“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, heart sinking, “your feet.”

Hell Freezes Over - M / charliebrown1234 + Turcote / 18k - The year is 2002, and Crowley and Aziraphale are sent to Alaska to investigate a decommissioned entrance to Hell. What could possibly go wrong? 

Better The Demon You Know - T / mikkimouse / 1.2k - When Crawly falls out of the sky and into the flood, he gets help from a very unexpected source.

Gently, gently - G / the_pen_is_mightier / 3k - Heaven is cold and lonely. Hell is filthy and crowded. Aziraphale badly needs to be touched; Crowley needs fresh air, and light, and space. They can’t seem to connect on days after they’ve returned from their respective head offices.

Of Firsts and Foremosts  - T / kedreeva / 6k - Aziraphale is left vulnerable and injured as his first molt approaches. Crawly comes to the rescue for the first time.

The Brazen Serpent - T / ImprobableDreams900 / 11k - Some other angels come to help Aziraphale at the end of the Isrealites’ 40-year exile in the wilderness, unfortunately for Crawley.

hold my hand tight (we'll make it another night) - G / cryptidkidprem / 3k - The night at Crowley’s flat. He’s having a hard time not panicking.

Harbours of My Own - T / wingedspirit / 30k - Crowley knows that, as a demon, his freedom is limited. He doesn't get to have a home; he doesn't get to love. Aziraphale would very much like to change that, but he, too, is limited in what he can do. It takes the better part of six thousand years, but they'll get there.

crack me open, feel me shatter - T / rattatatosk / 2.5k - Crowley dreams of the Fall. Aziraphale is there to catch him when he wakes.

Angst (w/a Happy Ending)

Where His Angel Dares to Tread - M / PinkPenguinParade / 16k - Crowley is taken by Hell. Aziraphale disguises himself as best he can for the rescue mission. Newt and Anathema help.

Remembrance of Things Past - T / Fyre / 18k - Hell takes Crowley’s memories all the way back to Eden as punishment for his crimes.

Drunk Theology - G / battle_cat / 3k - Aziraphale had been hoping tonight for Giggly Drunk Crowley, which was his favorite drunk Crowley. That didn’t seem to be how things were working out, though.

Like a River Flows - T / kedreeva / 15k - Five times Crowley was not allowed to love Aziraphale, and one time he succeeded.

The Cultivation of New Growth - T / Vitreous_humor / 3k - “I mean,” he said carefully, “if you want a plant, let me give you one of the snake plants or maybe the big coleus. They'd be good for the shop, pretty stalwart in the dark...You don't want this one, it's rotten.” “Actually,” Aziraphale said firmly, “I do want that one.”

The Holy Essence of Experience - T / Dragonsquill / 4k - They know how they feel, but giving it a name would be too dangerous.   Ineffable husbands from the beginning to the end of the world, aware and wanting.

AUs/Crossovers

be mine tonight (be mine forever) - T / artenon / 11k - Human!AU. When Aziraphale finds out his coworkers have made a bet that he won’t bring anyone to the company party, he asks his best friend Crowley to go as his date just to spite them. Things quickly spiral out of control.

Siren’s Song - T / kedreeva / 30k+ (WIP) - Siren!AU. Crowley, a lone siren, calls a ship to wreck upon his reef, but finds when he meets pirate captain Aziraphale that sirens are not the only ones able to lure another creature to their heart's desire.

Adopt Don’t Shop - G / lucky_spike / 6k - Cat!AU based on Chekov’s “Good Meowmons” comics.

The Ones Who Walk Away From Nevaeh  - T / soft_october / 15k - AU based on “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”

The Grinch Who Sold Christmas - T / darcylindbergh / 60k - Human AU / Hallmark Movie AU. Crowley is a big city lawyer sent to seal the deal that will destroy the quaint town of Tadfield forever, right before Christmas... and then he falls in love with the town, and a certain bookshop owner. Ridiculously sappy fluff that hits all the right notes.

The Odd One Out  T / RainyDayDecaf / 2k- A meeting of many different Crowleys and Aziraphales.

Beat Again - T / TeaCub90 / 7k - Human AU. Two neighbours keep each other and their respective conditions company in the dead of night

Outsider POV

Ophidiophobia - G / lyricwritesprose / 7.6k - Pepper is afraid of snakes. When this is abruptly revealed in an encounter with Crowley’s serpent form, she immediately goes about trying to cure herself of it.

What’s in a Name? - G / lyricwritesprose / 4k -  “You do realize,” Brother Francis said, “that Warlock is just your name, not some sort of, of directive?”

Damaged - G / lyricwritesprose / 6k - Aziraphale is struggling after the Apocalypse. Madam Tracy offers some advice. (Very good spooky/nonhuman Aziraphale in this one.)

Angel’s Favor - T/ PinkPenguinParade / 10k - A hundred years ago, Aziraphale gave one of his feathers to a woman who helped him. In the modern day, her descendant calls in the favor.

Protective Camouflage -  G/ politeanarcy/ 2.3k - The Antichrist isn’t the only one with defenses against being noticed.

Disposable - T / lyricwritesprose / 7k - Eric the Disposable Demon attempts to become Crowley’s vassal after the Apoca-wasn’t. Nothing goes the way they expect after that.

on deceiving appearances - G / asideofourown / 2k - The Disposable Demon realizes the truth of Crowley’s deception in Heaven.

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost - G / TheOldAquarian / 3k - What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals.

Other

the best laid schemes - T / asideofourown / 4k - How Crowley got his Rat Army

Incongruous States of Being - T / ZehWulf / 8k - “Who would win: Aziraphale or Crowley.” “Oh!” Aziraphale startles. “Well—such a question. It’s not as though either of us has engaged in so much as fisticuffs in ages, and one does need to keep up practice with these sorts of things.” His fretting dies abruptly when Crowley cuts over him clearly, baldly: “Aziraphale.”

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition - T / WoodsWitch / 12k - The Arrangement is 500 years old, and Crowley and Aziraphale have been having a fine time in Renaissance Florence. Things start to go a bit pear-shaped with the arrival of a Friar Savonarola, so Crowley suggests that they meet up in his favorite refuge from the rest of medieval Europe: Spain. ((Don’t let the title fool you, this is an incredibly in-depth and well-researched historical fic and deserves way more hits than it has.))

[mirkwoodshewolf]

My life, The Doctor; 10th Doctor x Nurse!reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys I know it’s been awhile but I finally decided to work on another story outside the Queen/BoRhap fandom. Now this request came from @originalposter96 idk if this is your user name anymore but I hope you’ll be able to see it.

NOW WARNING HERE I AM NOT A DOCTOR OR A NURSE!!! So I know absolutely NOTHING about surgeries or anything like that, so this may seem as lazy writing (sorry) but I hope you all still enjoy this fic. So since this does involve the reader being a Nurse there is a hospital involved, surgeries, blood, removing bullets, gunshots, and a slight trigger warning for Domestic violence (not between the Doctor and reader just some side characters).

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@dancingcoolcat​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@ixchel-9275​

__________________________________________________________

There have been many wonderous places I’ve been to, many wonderful people and creatures I’ve met.  They all come and go in my life, whether through my adventures or by time itself all beings enter my life one way or another.  But throughout all my previous lives, every single being in the Universe that I had ever known, one person was above and beyond special.

Her name was (Y/n) (L/n).  And she—is and will always be the love of my life.

For a human she was extremely clever, sharp as a whip, but she was also kind, loyal, and the one thing about her is that she never gives up on anyone.  As a Head nurse—oh did I forget to mention that? Yes my (y/n) is one of the best Nurses in all of England.  

Anyone in her time or even in the future when she finally becomes an M.D. will tell you that she is one of the best.  In fact she finds out future cures for worldwide pandemics (of course sometimes her board would deny her research and billions of people perish. Rotten bastards).  Anyways, my (y/n) truly is one of a kind amongst the humans and I am glad to have met her.

And won’t she be surprised when she sees me.  It had been awhile since I had last seen her (maybe since the day she graduated medical school just a year ago her time) and now with the Cybermen and Daleks taken care of, now’s a good a time to go see her.

I set the coordinates for her time period and flipped the switch allowing the TARDIS to activate and soon going through time and space.

*My POV*

April 14th, 2015, 10:05pm.  It had been a long day.  5 surgeries, 3 MRI scans, a cancer treatment report, and 2 women in labor later, I was just about to drop right there on the floor.  I was thankful that in like 20min. my shift was gonna be over.

“You look like you’re about to drop dead right on the spot.” I snapped out of my sleepy stage to see my good friend Chrissie Lang.  She and I had graduated from the same Med school together, and had most of the same classes together.  She and I are each other’s support system cause in this line or work—it can take a toll on you.

I remember this one time this woman came in at 6 months pregnant bleeding profusely from her legs.  We both knew that she was suffering a miscarriage so we told to do what her Doctor told us to do, but by the end of it Chrissie was completely destroyed. She always wanted to be a mum and seeing something like that happen made her fearful for even trying to go for a baby with her and her boyfriend.

So for the next ten minutes after helping the woman out, Chrissie and I just held onto each other and shed our tears before we had to brush it off and move onto the next case we had.  For those that say being a Doctor or a Nurse is the easiest job to do, they’re liars. The job can hit you not just physically, but mentally as well.

“After 2 days of not sleeping, I just might. Put on my tombstone (Y/n) (l/n). Died with a heart of gold and a stomach of caffeine.”

“That’s true cause I swear girl, you’re probably the most caffeine addicted person I’ve ever met.”

“I can stop whenever I want, these are just choices.” We both chuckled softly.

“Excuse me ladies, but would you mind helping me with something?” a familiar voice said to me.  We both turned to our right and standing there with a bouquet of my favorite color of carnations was the Doctor.

“Of course, what can we do for you sir?” asked Chrissie.

“Hey Chris, why don’t you let me handle this?” I suggested.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, besides you’re about to clock out sooner than me, you go on and head home. I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay, see you later (n/n).” she bid the Doctor good evening and he did the same. Once Chrissie left the lobby, I turned towards the Doctor smiling widely as he did the same.

I immediately embraced him and he picked me up and twirled me around, the two of us laughing together.

“Oh I swear every time I come back, you get more beautiful.” He said as he set me down.

“I’m just happy you got to come back at all.” I said as I cupped his face in my hands. His eyes grew soft as he placed his hands over mine.

“I know what I do is dangerous, but you know why I do what I do.” I nodded in understandment.

“I mean hell it wouldn’t be any different if you were human and worked as a police officer or a fireman. Hell we humans live in a dangerous world, anything could kill us.”

“Which is what makes me the Doctor.”

“It does indeed.” I stroked his cheek with my thumb and that’s when he reached for the bouquet he had set down on the front desk and he presented it to me. “You always know just how to cheer me up.”

“Figured you might’ve had a long, rough day. Thought a little color could be used to brighten up your day.”

“It sure did, thank you my love.”

“Anything for you my life.”

That was a thing between us.  When we first started dating each other, we had a little code/nickname for each other. I call the Doctor ‘my love’ because ever since he literally dropped from the sky onto my doorstep, he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.

He’s quirky, bit of a goofball, can sometimes blow his top but that’s only when something really dangerous happens and he’s under stress (yeah I’ve traveled with him a couple of times during my time at Med school), but he’s also loyal, brave, beyond clever, and he always puts everyone else, especially the human race above himself.  For the last of his species, he’s an incredibly selfless person.

He calls me ‘his life’ because whenever things get too hard for him, since he and I have been through some rough stuff due to our day to day life, I always try my best to comfort him.  I know that he’s lost people, just like I have on a job, and it’s not an easy thing to get pass.

So we both try to be each other’s support system.  We know there is always loss in the world, but the thing is to not let that be the driving point that always controls your life.  You can use it to make you stronger, not let it drag you down any further.

“So how has my brave Dr. (L/n) been since I last saw her?”

“You know I’m not a Doctor yet, I still gotta go through the nursing program and then rise up in the ranks before I finally get it.”

“Oh rubbish, you should’ve been a Doctor right as you graduated.”

“Yeah well not according to the chief here.” I muttered annoyedly.

“Honestly though, that old fool wouldn’t know a good doctor if it turned around and bit him in the arse.” I shushed him but couldn’t help myself from giggling softly.

“You can be so cruel sometimes you know that?” he playfully shrugged.

“Only when it comes to people who hurt you.” he wrapped his arms around me and pecked my cheek. “How much longer till your shift ends?” I turned to the clock and responded.

“10 minutes. But…..I could clock out a little early since there hasn’t been a call.”

“Playing hooky ehh? You cheeky little minx.” He grinned like the Cheshire cat. As we leaned closer to each other about to kiss, the doors suddenly burst open and a frantic voice called out.

“HELP! HELP! MY BROTHER NEEDS HELP! HELP!” a blonde woman around her mid 30’s came in holding her brother who looked to be around the same age as her.  Quite possible they might’ve been twins cause I could see some similarities on the both of them.  Her brother was completely covered in blood and his lips were blue from blood loss.

“Okay Miss calm down. I NEED A STRECHER STAT!!” soon enough the nurses who were still here for the nightshift ran off as I walked towards the two siblings. “What happened?”

“My ex-boyfriend jumped us. He thought—he thought my brother was a new boyfriend of mine and he—he—oh god this is my f-fault!”

“No, no, no Miss this is not your fault.” As I tried to calm her down, the stretcher bed soon came in and a group of nurses helped the man on his back and began cutting away his shirt.

“I’m seeing 3 bullet wounds to the chest and one on his abdomen. Let’s move him!” I get onto the top right of him as we wheel him into the OR to save his life while another nurse stayed behind with the sister to calm her down.

I washed my hands and arms frantically and thoroughly before getting my shrubs and mask on.  Already the destine nurses, assistants and now our head Doctor, Dr. Murphy came in and he said.

“What have we got?”

“Four shots in the upper body, two in the lower. He might’ve lost a pint of blood at least.” Answered Nurse Yasmin.

“Maybe 2-3. His BP is dropping fast.” Added one of the male Nurses, Derek.

“Okay, any of those bullets rupture an organ?” asked Dr. Murphy.

“The one in his lower abdomen is just a centimeter before hitting his small intestine. If we don’t get that bullet out first he could bleed out internally.”

“Okay keep an eye on his BP. I need fluids, scalpels, suction tubs, retractors……”

“Lucy….”the man groaned out.

“(L/n), do your thing.” Said Dr. Murphy.  I nodded and came up to the man and said.

“Sir? Sir can you hear me?”

“Yes. Where—where am I?”

“You’re at the hospital. Your sister brought you in. Don’t worry she’s okay and told us what happened.”

“Good….good……She’s safe. I—I’d never forgive myself if—” he started fading out.

“Hey, hey, hey sir, sir stay with me now. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?”

“Barry.”

“Okay Barry, I’m (Y/n) (l/n). My team and I are gonna help you but you need to stay with me for just a bit. Don’t give up on me.”

“It hurts….it hurts so badly.”

“I know, I know.”

“Give him a shot of morphine to numb the pain.” Dr. Murphy ordered.  Suzie got the morphine bag and needle ready and slowly stuck the needle into his left arm.  Barry hissed and I said to him.

“This’ll help lessen the pain. You won’t feel the pain as we try to get the bullets out of you Barry. But you gotta stay with me, okay?”

“I’ll—try……” he mumbled tiredly.  I placed my hand on his cheek and looked up at his vitals and saw his BP was continuing to drop and his heartbeat was going down.

As I looked around me, frantically Dr. Murphy and all the nurses were working together trying to get all the bullets out of him one by one, less we risk him bleeding out as two teams tried to work out a single bullet.  With the main one near his intestines cleared, Dr. Murphy and Nurse Helen worked on getting the few out of his upper chest.

All the while Barry kept groaning every now and then and his eyes were fading fast.

“Barry. Barry hey look at me boy. If you can’t do this for yourself, do it for your sister. From what she said about who had done this to you, you need to stay alive for her. What you did was heroic, but don’t let her see that that selfish son of a bitch won. She needs you, your family needs you.”

“I got the blood transfusion he now needs. Thankfully, we had our last bag of B+ in the storage bin.” A young male nurse who had only worked here for a year, Cody exclaimed as he came through the doors.

“Alright, start the transfusion now! We just got the last bullet out and his BP is dropping faster and faster!”

“You hear me Barry? We’re getting you your life back. But it’s gonna be up to you now. Don’t let him be the victor, not tonight! You hear me?” he groaned and looked right up at me and he whispered groggily to me.

“Why do you care so much?” I took a deep breath in and said as I stroked the hair from his face.

“Because so many people everywhere are already dying every day. Some because time has run out on them, others for serving their country, but there are the odds of people dying for now reason whatsoever. Or for stupid reasons that shouldn’t be a reason why someone should have to die, especially if it’s protecting their family member from some arsehole who can’t tell the meaning of the word No. Now your sister is out there waiting for you, if she loses you, she’ll have lost her Ace. Her only friend that has stuck by her through whatever it was that her ex-boyfriend did to her.”

“He…..always was a……selfish prick!” he coughed out.

“I’ll bet he was. But she survived him, and now you’ve got to survive too. Don’t give him that satisfaction that he took a life tonight. Can you do that for me?” he nodded softly and whispered out again.

“You’d make a great motivational speaker.”

“I was on the debate team back in secondary school. If you wanna hear more, you’ll just have to stick around Earth for a little while longer.” After his final stitches were in place, the blood transfusion began and it was then Dr. Murphy had Cody, Darren, and Helen wheel him into ICU.  From there, Barry would be monitored 24/7 till he woke up from his post-surgery coma.

Dr. Murphy took off his mask and gloves before turning to me and he said to me.

“Nice job keeping him talking.”

“Just doing my job sir.”

*Doctor’s POV*

Unaware to anyone else, I had snuck into the upper levels to witness the surgery in progress.  I watched as (y/n) stayed right by the young man’s side and kept giving him encouragement to stay alive.  But not for himself, for his sister.

This. Is why she would one day go down in the medical books as the world’s greatest Female doctor’s.  She always put the lives of the people her patient’s love over their own, then psychologically, the patient’s bodies would continue to fight on until finally they would find the strength to recover.

Of course she will have her failures cause that’s life.  You can’t save everyone but you can work harder at saving the ones you can save in the future.  She doesn’t let one failure get her down, that’s sometimes the curse of being a Doctor. When you lose people, it can really affect you. Even when those closest to you are the ones you lose.  Believe me I’ve been there millions of times throughout my 10 life cycles (she’s lucky she’ll only deal with one).

By morning, the lad Barry managed to make a full recovery.  His sister, Lucy repeatedly thanked all the doctors and nurses who helped out with saving her brother before giving her statement to the police.

I waited outside by the TARDIS for my beloved Doctor to clock out, and when she finally came out the poor dear looked exhausted.  I extended my arms out for her and she gave me a tired smile before collapsing into my arms.

“Just when I thought I could get at least one early night in.” her voice muffled against my trench coat but I still managed to hear her.  I softly laughed and rocked her gently as I assured her.

“I know, but hey if you hadn’t been here, that young man would’ve died.”

“Oh you know it was Dr. Murphy as well as a few other nurses that actually did the real operation to save him.”

“True, but you were just as important if not more. You kept him awake and talking.” I shrugged tiredly agree-to-disagreeing. “Now then, I think after a night like that, and from lack of sleep these past couple of days you deserve to be pampered and see the wonders of the galaxy.”

“How did you—”

“Besides the bags under your eyes, I’ve seen the amount of Starbucks cups at your apartment.” She groaned embarrassingly.  God this girl and her coffee addiction, truthfully I never understood why humans choose that as their beverage of choice.  I myself prefer a good Earl grey or even sometimes Jasmine tea but ugh that horrible bland stuff they call coffee?! Never. Again. Will that drink touch my taste buds.

“Care to show me the wonders of time and space?”

“Need a pick me up boost?” she nodded.  I kicked open the doors of the TARDIS and hopped inside before extending my hand out to her saying, “First question is though; do you trust me?”

“Always my love.” She replied with that loving soft smile of hers as she took my hand.

“Then brace yourself my life, because I’m going to show you the sound of the Universe.”

“You mean…..”

“Indeed I do my love, the Music of the Spheres.” Her smile grew wider and I pulled her into the TARDIS before shutting the doors behind her and together the two of us ran towards the consoles of the TARDIS and I punched in the coordinates and soon we took off for the Music of the Spheres.

And who knows where our next adventure would lead after that? So long as I got my love, my life, my Doctor with me by my side.

[minaminokyoko]

Peace Talks Reactions

Hey, Dresden Fandom. You guys may or may not be knee deep in Peace Talks, but if you are, I welcome you to the below reactions, in handy dandy bullet form. I would love to discuss the book if you’re interested, whether you reblog with comments or shoot me a chat. I just finished the book, so all spoilers are below the Read More tag. 

Woof. Well, at least it was something after six fucking years of waiting.

·         So before Butcher’s giant hiatus, we had this first chapter of Peace Talks already and I have to say I still feel like I felt six years ago: I don’t really know where he’s going with Thomas becoming a father. In terms of what that will do for him as a character. For Harry, it’s different. Harry keeps it close to the chest with his decisions, willing to die for the greater good in an instant, and becoming a father made him have to be more careful and thoughtful in his actions to be sure he can be there for his baby girl. I’m not sure where Butcher is going with this for Thomas, but I guess we’ll see.

·         I was pleased to find out Harry decided to stick with the protected apartment and is trying his best on Dad duty. Me gusta.

·         Right, let’s get to the first big elephant in the room: Ebenezar. Oh my fucking God. I want to punch his fucking lights out. My friend and I have argued about his reaction to seeing Thomas at the apartment already. I know Eb has Harry by a thousand years or more in experience, but it pisses me off that Eb can’t be bothered to learn more about Thomas. Nope. Just skip straight to irrational anger.  It was also disappointing to find out that Eb is not a part of Harry’s life as much as I thought he was in the past, so clearly he doesn’t understand how important Thomas is to him. I’m a bit miffed that Harry didn’t explain Thomas is his half-grandson to help him understand, but at the same time, Harry might be worried about what that revelation will do. Either way, it displays a massive lack of trust in Harry. To think Harry—who has survived all this fucking shit from the supernatural world so far—is just a pawn and he doesn’t know how incredibly dangerous the White Court is. Eb is downright disrespectful and insulting to his own grandson. I’m sorry, but I think he’s being an asshat in huge proportions by just thinking Harry is too stupid to know better and by not asking him why he feels loyal to Thomas.

·         In that same vein, Eb’s whole thing about wanting Harry to leave Maggie somewhere can kiss my ass. I’m with Harry on this one. It’s not that I don’t trust the foster care system and I think anything negative about adoption, either. Maggie is a target because she’s a Dresden. That’s it. There is nothing she can ever do about it. She is the daughter of Harry Dresden, Captain fuckin’ Disaster of the supernatural world. There is no place she can go where she will be safe and Harry is honestly her best shot at being watched over and protected, but not only that, if she’s gonna be in danger her whole life, she might as well be loved and cared for by her father too. Harry brings up such a good point about feeling abandoned and rejected and how Eb’s “protection” jag didn’t work for Margaret either. I know he wants what’s best for her, but I agree that Maggie has a better chance of surviving at Harry’s side than somewhere else. Hell’s bells, that’s how this whole fucking thing started anyway. Susan’s bitch ass hid the kid and it didn’t work. Sheesh.

·         And now the other elephant in the room: Murphy. I think part of me forgot how severe her injuries were. I had assumed months of PT and such would allow her to be mobile again, but then I read Chapter 5 and now I’m just angry and hurt. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. You just don’t. I can’t help it. Murphy is my favorite, goddamn it. I’ve reread the books where she’s helping Harry the most because their dynamic is so phenomenal. They’re my OTP. She is one of the best written female characters I’ve ever known, so ripping her ability to be at Harry’s side away is so…2020. It’s just a nasty, horrible thing and it’s shot my excitement for this novel right in the foot. I didn’t realize how important it was to me that Murphy is Harry’s badass ace in the hole until I was told she’ll be lucky to walk again. I know things have to get worse for characters in order for them to grow, but fuck this so much. I am praying she gets a magical contract or healing or a wish or something so she’s back in action or I’m done.

·         With that same elephant, fuck Jim Butcher for skipping over the foreplay at the end of Chapter 5. Yes, I said it. Fuck him. I know he thinks it’s funny to frustrate us, but this is an act of betrayal of the highest order. Why? Because I’ve waited TWENTY FUCKING YEARS for Harry and Murphy to go canon, and what does he do the first time we, the audience, get to see them in a relationship? Cut to curtains fluttering. Fuck you. We deserved that foreplay scene. No, I will NOT use my fucking imagination, pun intended. I just paid you $15 to use YOUR imagination, Jim. You spent fifteen books building up the trust, love, loyalty, and sexual tension of these two characters. That’s countless words and countless pages. And now that they’re FINALLY together, nope, skip it. Skip what should have been something intimate and powerfully emotional. Ha-ha-fucking-ha. I hope you step on a Lego barefoot. I will try to have faith that Butcher will give us what we want—a canon version of Chapter 14 of Skin Game—but if he doesn’t, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

·         The thought of Mab and Lara Raith working together is utterly terrifying. No. Just no. Ugh, there are bad times ahead. I also thought it was kind of contrived that Lara is owed favors, which forces Harry to not be able to say no, and I think it’s a bit lazy on Jim’s part for this convenient block to be there and he can’t refuse the favors. It just felt like he didn’t want to put the energy into painting Harry into a corner this time, so here, a convenient favor. That being said, I cackled when Mab called him a bowl of porridge. That was legitimately hilarious. What a bitch.

·         Mm, Harry just called Murphy his girlfriend. I’ve waited twenty years for that alone. *happy sigh*

·         Oh, great. Someone sent Thomas to assassinate someone. I’m betting blackmail, whether he admits to it or not.

·         LOL @ Harry’s cursing policy with Maggie.

·         Harry. Don’t. Make. Promises. EVER.

·         I would not be the least bit surprised if this assassination attempt is Mab’s idea to cut off all of Harry’s allies but her so he will have no choice but to use her protection more often. Mab is a cold fuckin’ piece. Pun intended.

·         Harry, for real, do not square up with Ebenezar. You are a wolf, for sure, but that man is a werewolf by comparison.

·         I’m getting real tired of Ebenezar’s anti-vampire schtick. I get it. They’re bad. Now shut up.

·         This is so unfortunate: I’ve been missing Lara Raith just because she’s a hoot but with this whole favor thing and Harry and Murphy being fitted for chastity belts, I’m more tired than anything else.

·         Oh, neat, one of Gard’s sisters!

·         Of course Lara knows about Thomas being Ebenezar’s grandson. It’s Lara.

·         Oh, good, I’m sure whatever deal Harry just made with Molly isn’t stupid or reckless.

·         Yes, Sanya is a VERY weird man. That is an understatement, Butters.

·         Aha. I had a hunch it was River Shoulders and not the Genoskwa.

·         And oh good, the Genoskwa’s not dead. Yay. I hate you, Butcher.

·         Now there is a good tidbit of story for the series: that the reason everything is accelerating into bad news is we’re about to hit that 666 year mark that people are talking about, where the even worse shit hits. We’ve had small clues about Harry being starborn and this helps provide context for the shit that happens to him. I hope it’s not a Chosen One scenario, but it does explain why he’s been in so many scrapes and why he’s made it out of them so far. However, I tend to dislike destiny in most stories. It can get tedious. We’ll see what’s in store.

·         Ugh, and there it is, but I already knew Lara was gonna make poor Harry break Thomas out from the book trailer anyhow. Sigh.

·         Murphy calling the White Council useless is a fuckin’ mood and a half. I swear, they ain’t nothing but useless since these books first started. Harry hit the nail on the head earlier with Carlos and the Wardens, that they spend a lot of time talking at Harry but not listening. That’s been their entire M.O. from the start. They don’t listen to anything he has to say; they just insist they know better and that he should fall in line, not caring about what he has on said line, which is very often innocent lives. I love the hypocrisy of them preaching to him about making cold, rational decisions when it’s not their asses who have to deal with the consequences. Yes, there is fallout from what Harry does, but the opposition is always there and it doesn’t act solely based on what Harry Dresden does. I really fucking hate the Council at this point.

·         So we get a second of tender kissing in the tub and an “I love you” and then Butcher cuts away again. I am so over it. I don’t have enough energy to put towards how angry he’s making me right now and he doesn’t deserve it anyway. I cannot believe he spent all this time building this relationship up and then makes it canon and won’t touch it. Fuck you.

·         Murphy immediately spotting all three of Harry’s tails is life. God, I love my bad bitch.

·         I do like that Harry has been practicing his Veils. That’s smart. It also shows character development and wisdom that he’s recognizing how much more useful stealth is and that even though it’s hard for him, it’s worth the effort to learn. Good book boyfriend.

·         It’s still Murphy, bitch. Injured or not. My queen is a queen. Try her if you want, Freydis.

·         PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT MURPHY YOU POOR CATHOLIC DARLING COME HERE. That pass was hilariously unexpected in a book that hasn’t been all that funny so far. Thanks, Jim. That got a whole bunch of cackling out of me.

·         “I like your brother.” I just clapped and squealed. I mean, duh, of course Murphy likes Thomas, but this pleases me greatly to hear her say it aloud. Murph is tough and doesn’t like to say stuff like that out loud usually. I’m delighted.

·         For all my complaints, I appreciate Butcher bringing Murphy in to help Harry plan everything. She’s hella smart and experienced in matters where you need to get someone out without being all guns a-blazing. And it is an apology for her being benched halfway thru Skin Game, imo.

·         Oh, shit. Harry doesn’t know Molly’s the one who attacked Carlos. Ugh. I bet this is gonna explode in someone’s face.

·         And Harry just fucked up the rest of his friendship with Carlos, not know Molly already did the same thing. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.

·         “You just went from a three to a six.” Jesus Christ, immortals are so savage, I swear. I laughed, tho. That was mean as hell.

·         I’m dying that Freydis wants a threesome with Harry and Murphy. I mean, who can blame her? Fuck, I want a threesome with Harry and Murphy, if I’m being totally honest here. The thirst is so fucking real.

·         Finally, someone made a joke about Harry and Murphy getting together.

·         Ah, this IS what I missed about Lara, though—she loves to fuck with Harry for the lolz and nothing other than the lolz. I mean, he’s such a peach. I would do the same thing.

·         Also, Jim, for God’s sake, make up your mind about vampires getting burned! I don’t get it. Thomas can touch Harry, and Harry is and always has been loved, so when do vampires get burned and when do they not? We’ve seen Harry touch Lara even when Susan was still alive and remember the kiss in White Night? MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. I had a debate about this with another fan because it’s so goddamn inconsistent! If anyone being loved by anyone else burns them, then that would mean the entire world would be in the know about White Court vampires because they’d get burnt left and right touching people who are loved. I thought it only happens if they try to feed, not just touching each other. I think Jim needs to pay better attention to his own lore or finally spit out an explanation. We’ll see if he does later with that whole kiss thing from the book trailer, I guess. Argh! *Yosemite Sam curses*

·         I’m really starting to hate Harry’s condition and the fact that he didn’t stop to ask Eb what it is or how to stop it. Ugh.

·         Oh, good, and now everyone will think Harry and Lara are a couple. Convenient. Like they don’t already have constant trust issues. I’m sure Eb won’t block a gasket or anything.

·         Oh, yay, a Malcolm Dresden flashback! This is a delightful surprise. Like a lot of the fanbase, we’ve always wanted to know more about him. He seemed like a good man.

·         Yay! Vadderung to the rescue!

·         Okay, I do NOT like Murphy being alone with a starving Thomas and Lara. Not one little bit.

·         Ah, so the goddess Ethniu gets introduced in this book. That’s why Peace Talks got split and then Battle Ground popped out as the next book.

·         “You’re out of the White Council if you do this.” FUCK YOU, EBENEZAR. Jesus Christ, fuck you. All the Council has EVER done is use and abuse Harry Dresden. They have constantly blamed him for everything or forced him to fight their goddamn battles. You can shove it right up your old crusty ass for all I care. I am sick to death of this belief that they are just so righteous and trustworthy and good when they’re self-important douchebags who think that people are ants and can’t be bothered to protect them unless it directly benefits the Council.

·         I think I’m angriest because up until this point, Ebenezar has been mostly reasonable and it feels inorganic that Jim pushed him this hard. It’s just kind of exhausting because it feels like the plot needs Eb to lose his shit instead of it being something natural. I won’t be shocked if we find out he’s been compromised somehow, but I guess I’ll have to find out myself.

·         Murphy is right on the money. We thought we knew Eb, but we REALLY don’t. And that sucks. A lot. Especially since Harry has barely any family at all.

·         I can honestly tell why this book took Jim six years to write. It’s awful stagnant. It’s the exact same reason that the first draft of Of Fury and Fangs kicked my ass. I wrote the story in the first draft incorrectly, in a way, because all the characters were passive for the most part, and the other half of the problem was that I got halfway through this book and thought up an idea for a better book, but in order for the better book to happen, there were too many things I couldn’t ignore in this one, so I still had to finish it and make it good. Peace Talks, to me, feels like it’s obligatory to set up the next book, and maybe that’s why it feels lackluster to me. It’s a transitional book, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s definitely in the bottom five of the entire series. Transitional books aren’t bad, but they aren’t good either. Most authors know that this tends to happen if you write a trilogy. All the really big, important shit tends to happen in the first and third book if you’re not careful. In this case, yeah, there’s stuff happening, but it’s largely passive. It’s kind of like why back in 2010 people were so hard on Iron Man 2—it spent all this time setting up shit for the MCU, which in the long run is a good thing, but that makes it weak when it tries to stand on its own. 

As it stands, Peace Talks is mediocre. Jim took way too many shortcuts. It felt rushed, ironically enough, because he was so busy moving pieces around to set up for Battle Ground that Peace Talks doesn’t really stand out as interesting or likable like the other books. I really understand why he got stuck and couldn’t write on it for six years. My two biggest beefs here are him pushing Ebenezar into the antagonist role and him completely fucking bailing on the Harry/Murphy relationship after sixteen books of waiting. I mean, yeah, fine, because everything in this book is just set up for Battle Ground, maybe then we’ll get more acknowledgment of the romance and the importance of the relationship, but as it stands, I’m dissatisfied with both aspects. This is part of why we didn’t want a hiatus. If you make us wait this long, inevitably, the result is not going to be up to par. There are VERY few things we as people have waited forever for that ended up living up to our expectations. I almost feel like all the fan theories and fanfiction was a better, more creative result than what actually happened in Peace Talks. That’s harsh, I know, but I’ve been reading the fan generated stuff for six years and that’s just how I feel. 

This is a mediocre novel that’s placing a LOT of weight on what’s to come, which is dangerous from a quality standpoint. It could be a lot worse. I was expecting a disaster. Instead, I got a disappointment. I can live with it, but only if Battle Ground makes up for it. If it doesn’t, then we’re all in a world of hurt.

I’ll take maybe a week or so and then consider if I want to do an actual review or not. We’ll see how I feel once I digest everything and talk it out with friends.

Overall Grade: 3 out of 5 stars

[obsidianfr3sk]

The Origins (Chapter 1)

Summary:  Before the Renegades put an end to the Age of Anarchy, they were six kids trying to survive day by day in a city ruled by chaos and desolation. Is there a space for hope and kindness somewhere in Gatlon City? Maybe.

Sooo i’ve been playing around in my head with this idea for a six part fanfic that i have about how i think the OG renegade’s lives where during the age of anaychy and how they were as kids. we don’t really know a lot about their early years, so i saw this as an opportunity to experiment with some headcanons. i’m not an english native speaker, but i hope i’ll improve my writing skill with time (renegades fandom is non-existant in spanish). 

here’s the link to the story in ao3, if you rather read from there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123756/chapters/60870652 

but anyways, enough about me. hope you like it! :)) 

The world that’s waiting up for me

Age of Anarchy

Year 2

He was running at full speed. The air was cold and burned his throat each time he needed to breathe. His legs had started to hurt two blocks ago because of the hits he received during his fight with Fred, but Simon wasn’t going to stop now. He was leading the run.

He turned what he believed to be a corner, and ran into a dead end. Then, he looked around, hoping to realize that his brain was fooling him into seeing that, but no. There were four boxes full of rotten fruit, an enormous closet, and dozens of black bags…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was obvious Fred had seen him get into that alley. Surely he was already fantasizing with the one hundred ways he was going to torture Simon as soon as he got his hands on him.

Simon heard his haunter’s fast and threatening footsteps. He analyzed his options once again. Boxes, bags, closet…

He stepped into a little puddle in his way to the closet. Closed its doors so fast, that he almost hurt his fingers. The closet wasn’t that large, so he had to remain still, so that damn old piece of furniture wouldn’t fall into pieces.

His socks were wet. Those were his best socks.

There was a minuscule space between the doors that allow him to see Freud running into the same dead-end Simon had.

But, instead of being confused, Freud grinned. The blood coming out his nose had dried and, with his crooked teeth, his appearance was even scarier than normal.

Simon still didn’t fully understand where he had gotten the courage to turn around and punch him right on the face. Laura had told him not to do that.

“Never hit the nose, Simon. You could kill someone.”

But Simon had done it. He had disobeyed Laura.

Laura had also advised him not to hear what Freud had to say about him. It was simpler than what he expected; Simon could bear with dignity all the comments about his ragged clothes, his old shoes, or his not so good looks. He could even bear when Freud started calling him “rat” and all his classmates followed the trend.

Laura would be so disappointed at him for using brute strength before words. His mother would be too. His father probably would say something between the lines: “My boy finally is starting to turn into a real man”, and the baby… well, she wouldn’t say anything. She was a baby.

But what Fred had said to him…

It comforted him knowing that if Laura had heard what Freud said, she would have hit him too.

“Where are you, little rat?” Asked Freud with a trace of mockery in his words. “Look at you. Running. Like a rat. Like your whore sister.”

The day was gray. A faint ray of light illuminated the blade of the jackknife Freud held. The image of that blade stabbing Simon in the chest, was enough for him to not get out of his hide spot and broke Freud’s nose.

“They said she tried to run,” Freud keep saying while he looked for him in a big trashcan, “but I don’t think so. I think she even enjoyed it.”

Freud kicked the boxes. Yeah, because Simon was hiding between that old fruit.

“And even if she hadn’t, I say it again: she deserved it,” Freud sentenced, disgusted by the stench that the fruits emanated. “Prodigies like her had always been freaks. Dangerous freaks. I don’t fucking care how many Ace fucking Anarchy appear to defend you and try to scare the shit out of us, we won’t bow before you. Do you hear me? WE WON’T BOW!”

Simon wasn’t a prodigy. Laura’s powers were creating bubbles. Since when bubbles were dangerous? Since when being able to make them out of thin air was an excuse to kill someone the way they killed his sister?

Before he realized, Freud’s eyes met his.

He had found him.

“No one humiliates me and lives to tell the story, rat.”

Freud opened the door wide, and Simon was ready to be stabbed when a third figure appeared behind the older boy.

“That wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

Freud frowned. He cleaned the blood off his face, and slowly turn around to see the face of the one who dared to defy him. Simon couldn’t help but poke his head over his bully’s shoulder.

He was a blond kid, not older than him. He wore black frame glasses, attached with a piece of tape. His blue eyes looked at Freud with disapproval with which no one had ever dared to look at him.

“Do I know you?” asked Freud after laughing his ass off.

“I’m just saying that, if you have a problem with someone, you report that person with the school’s authorities,” the blonde boy kept saying, ignoring Freud’s question. “It’s not good taking justice into your own hands. It just causes more trouble.”

“Shut up!” Freud screamed as he pushed the blonde boy into the same pond Simon had stepped in a few moments back.

The most surprising thing, however, wasn’t how calm the boy looked when he was facing Freud. It was that he never stopped talking.

“Is that a jackknife?” he asked. Freud looked at the object he carried “Do you take it with you to school? Sharp weapons are not allowed inside school grounds. I’m afraid I’m going to tell a teacher about this.”

Freud cried with hatred and lunged at him, the jackknife ready to kill him. However, the blade broke as soon as it made contact with the blond boy's side.

Before he could process what had just happened, a silver stake sprang out of nowhere and narrowly pierced Freud's shoulder. He managed to move just in time for it to only leave a deep cut.

Simon wouldn’t deny it: Freud almost getting pierced by a stake gave him a morbid sense of satisfaction. His scared, hurt, and confused gaze almost made him cry of pure happiness. How blissful (and relieved) he felt when Freud ran away from the scene.

Just like a scared rat.

The blond boy had dropped shoulders and glasses on the tip of his nose. From his looks, he looked like one of the sons of those businessmen, who lived in those big houses in the northwest of the city. However, his clothes were as old as Simon's. He looked apprehensively at the stake as drops of blood stained his gray sneakers. He didn't see that he had it while he was reading Freud about good behavior, and it was too big to keep in his pockets. It was as if he had created it out of nothing.

And maybe he had.

Immediately, he regained composure and smiled.

“You can go out now!” he exclaimed animatedly. “He's gone”

Didn't he see him standing in that old closet? He was literally in front of him.

As if hearing his thoughts, the blond boy turned to the closet and his face lit up. Simon wanted to run away when he saw him approach with abnormal enthusiasm on his part, but there was nowhere to move.

“Amazing!” the boy yelled. He looked in all directions and muttered, “You are like me.”

“Sorry?”

“Don't be scared, I'm with you,” he whispered. “My name is Hugh.”

He held out his hand. Simon accepted it out of sheer courtesy.

“How old are you?”

“Eight.”

“I had never met a prodigy my age.”

“I am not a prodigy,” Simon clarified.

Hugh's smile froze.

“But I just saw you use your powers.”

“I run very fast to run away from the gangsters,” he said sarcastically. “It comes naturally.”

He gave a loud laugh. Making him laugh was not his intention at all.

“No, I am talking about the other power.”

“What other power?”

“That you turn invisible!”

Hugh quickly covered his mouth and Simon released his hand. He hadn't realized all the time he had been holding it until now. Hugh had a very strong grip.

“Sorry, it was not my intention to shout it,” he mumbled. “I know that sometimes it is better to go unnoticed.”

“Have you stabbed someone else?”

His smile disappeared for a moment.

“I usually don’t do that.”

He did not believe him. There were times when people sometimes had to do things to survive that they were not proud of. But, well, Hugh could continue lying to himself. It was not his job to get him out of his bubble.

“Freud deserved that and more.”

Hugh looked up to protest, but instead said:

“You’ve done it again!”

To hell with this.

Simon raised his arms to push him away, just to realize he was wrong: Hugh was not crazy.

His hands... his entire body was completely invisible.

He moved his fingers and felt the movement. Then his legs. The atmosphere seemed to distort slightly every time he moved. He blinked hard, hoping that when he opened his eyes again, he would realize that it was all a dream, and he was lying down, with his sister preparing to take him to school.

However, he opened them and his sister was not there. He guessed then, neither did his mother.

It was just him and Hugh.

This can’t be true.

His mother and Laura were the only prodigies in the family. They always knew that there was a possibility that Simon was a prodigy too, but after a certain time, they began to realize that he wasn't. Before she died, his mother said she hoped the baby wasn't a prodigy, either. It was best for everyone.

Now, his family's worst nightmares had come true. How was he going to explain to his father what had just happened? How was he going to react? Was he going to kick his son out of the house? If that happened, where would he go? What was to become of him?

He was panicking, and Hugh wouldn't stop looking at him like he was a Christmas present under the tree. That didn’t help.

His hands appeared.

“Your power is so cool,” said Hugh.

“I swear to you, this is the first time I've done this,” he whispered.

Again, the frozen smile.

“Are you serious?”

“Completely serious.”

Hugh adjusted his glasses, shocked.

“I'm sorry,” he said awkwardly.

“Why?”

“Because ... this is not how origin stories should be,” he replied.

Oh, that.

“It doesn't matter,” he replied. He wasn’t lying, the topic never concerned him. However, now he had the feeling that he should be concerned.

“I've seen you at school,” said Hugh, trying to change the subject.

“Yes, I am the rat,” he blurted out angrily.

Hugh shook his head.

“I wasn't going to say that. You're Simon Westwood,” he corrected him. “You're Laura Westwood's brother. She worked at the pawnshop.”

“I was her brother,” he corrected.

“You are her brother.”

Simon did not want to continue arguing. He had already realized that it was not worth trying to win an argument over that guy.

“Did you create that stake?” he asked. “I mean, out of the blue?”

“Yes…” he replied showing him the stake. “I'm not proud. It's just that sometimes when someone attacks me like that, they just... appear? Like a defense mechanism or something. But I'm working on it.”

“What is it made of?”

“Chromium. That’s what my auntie says.”

Simon looked at the stake. There it was again, that morbid feeling…

“I've never seen a prodigy using their powers for good,” said Simon thoughtfully.

“I didn't do something good,” Hugh replied. “I almost killed someone”

Laura would have said, “Please, a shoulder injury doesn't kill anyone.” But Simon said:

“You would have done the right thing killing him.”

“What did he do to you?”

Oh, boy, what he hadn't done to him.

The insults, the teasing. Although, the beating was something new. Freud must have been bored of not receiving any reaction with the verbal attacks, so they evolved into physical attacks. The first was after Laura's funeral.

How crazy do you have to be to do that to someone who had just lost his sister?

That had been going on for two weeks now, and Simon put up with it, just like before. But he was never going to allow anyone to mess with her family.

“He said Laura deserved it,” he replied.

Hugh went silent.

He heard a pair of thunder in the distance.

“We should go to our houses,” Simon said.

He stood up and went to the street. Freud's jackknife was on the ground. The blade was next to the red, plastic handle. He took both of them very carefully and put them back together. It wasn't tight at all and surely was going to break in the slightest attempt to cut something or attack someone, but it was still menacing.

Without much thought, he picked it up and put it in his pocket. Just in case.

“Hey,” Hugh called out, still sitting in the closet. Simon turned to see “Where do you live?”

“Over there,” and pointed to his right.

Hugh smiled again. He hadn't realized he had dimples on his cheeks. Surely they had formed it after giving away so many smiles.

“What a coincidence,” he said. “Me too”.

Then Simon smiled back at him. It was an honest smile.

When was the last time he had smiled like that?

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 22

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1024

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: Gotta love the drama that’s building up. Reach out to me if you’ll like to be tagged!

poison & wine masterlist

The doors of Loki’s bedroom slam closed the moment you two are alone. Things begin to fly out of the shelves and break onto the floors while Loki paces across the room. You manage to avoid the flying debris and have no other choice but to watch Loki unravel. 

He’s angry. No, he’s furious. 

Loki’s chest is rising at a rapid speed as if his anger was too much for his own body. His hands are ringing, shaking, and you are quick to take them into your own. 

His hands still in your hold and his anger quickly disappears. 

“We need to call this off.” 

Loki pulls his hands away from yours and resumes his pacing. The anger was gone, replaced by pure defeat.  

“What?” you ask in alarm. “We can’t. No, Loki, we can’t.” 

Loki doesn’t pay you any mind. 

“If Odin wants to put me in the ring then so be it. What’s so wrong about it?” 

“This is no ordinary fight ring,” Loki snaps. “The beast we are to face is reckless and brutal. It will show no mercy.” 

“I’ve been to war,” you remind him. “I’ve been through the worst imaginable.” 

“You have never faced a bilgesnipe before,” Loki exclaims. “That is the beast Odin wants us to face. The only time I’ve ever defeated one was with Thor and he had Mjolnir. Even then, we didn’t kill it. The beast wandered off.” 

That detail alarmed you but you were not one to lose hope. Odin would never risk your life in such a manner. Especially as he was still under the assumption that you were a mortal and the ambassador for Midgard.

“Odin is still looking past our lie,” Loki explains. “This is his attempt to make us yield into telling him the truth.” 

“Just because we almost got caught tonight doesn’t mean we should give up already,” you argue. “He laid a trap and we fell for it but now we know better. We know that one or all of my handmaidens is acting as a spy for your father. We know that the only people we can trust right now are in this room. And we know that we have to step up our game if we want to convince him. This tournament can be the solution. This is not over yet.” 

“It is already over,” Loki snaps. “Odin has placed your own life in danger. He does not care if you survive this or not and I made a vow to protect you. This lie we’ve told is no longer safe for you.” 

“I don’t care,” you answer. “I’m not ready to give up yet and neither should you.” 

“I can’t protect you from the beast.” 

“I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to fight. Fight the beast, fight against your father...” you say as you stand in front of him. “I’m not afraid for what’s to come because whatever we are up against, I know you can defeat it. I trust that you can.” 

Loki was growing more convinced that you had indeed lost your mind. This hope you had for him was wrongly placed. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve your hope or you trust. He was the reason you were in this mess in the first place. 

Loki had spoken the truth about the man who called himself his father. He had displayed a weakness for you and now Odin was using it to his advantage. Odin had placed you into the line of fire hoping that it would submit Loki down into his control.

“Stop doubting yourself, Loki,” you whisper to him. “I know you can beat this bilgesnipe.” 

“Why?” Loki asks, confused. “Why place your hopes on me?” 

“Because you’re my friend,” you answer sincerely. “Also because your dad is really being an ass and I am not willing to let this stupid tournament be the reason he wins.” 

Loki chuckles at this and you find his old self returning. You smile and take a step away from him allowing yourself a chance to breathe. You had been tense this whole time but seeing Loki finally calm down allowed you to do the same. 

“But most importantly, we made a deal, Loki,” you remind him. “If you don’t get what you want, then neither do I.” 

Loki clears his throat and nods. He should have remembered that you had your own stake in the lie you committed yourself to. 

“One wrong move on my part and you will die.” 

“Then no wrong moves shall be made.” 

Loki sighs annoyed by your stubbornness but you don’t allow him to sneak a word in. 

“Teach me how to fight,” you resolve. “Teach me how to use my magic!” 

Loki shakes his head. 

“We don’t even know if you can cast a spell.”

“We have to at least try,” you try to convince him. “Your mother thinks it's possible for me to learn, so teach me, Loki.”  

Loki takes a deep breath and knew that the chaos you brought could work. All he had to do was manage it. 

Though your plan was a last ditch effort, Loki knew that it was their only saving grace. It would give you an advantage but one he hoped wouldn’t have to be needed. 

“If you were to use your magic successfully, your secret would be out. “ 

“Then it is a risk we might have to take,” you respond. “All of this is a risk, Loki, but I trust that you’ll be able to hold your own that I won’t have to.” 

From your stance alone, Loki could tell that you were as determined as ever. There was no way he could convince you out of doing this match. You were stubborn and chaotic and too willing to place your hope in him. 

You were a wild flame. 

Uncontrollable and bright. 

If he could control that aspect of you, you could be dangerous. Endless and fierce that would burn whoever came against you.  

It was beautiful and Loki hated how much it pleased him to see it. 

“We’ll start our training tomorrow.”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie