#bad news is it’s long and no one likes being in a vehicle for prolonged periods of time :/

[supernovaa-remnant]

about to undertake a perilous journey… (commuting back to uni) send me asks abt my c!rivals accidental courting au maybe? (or asks abt anything I love to yap) and I’ll try to get to them when my journey is done

[cyarskj52]

A Reminder for Drake and Others: Tory Lanez Is Not a Martyr

It’s disappointing, but not surprising, to see Drake advocate for Tory Lanez after being convicted of shooting Megan Thee Stallion

By Andre GeeFebruary 27, 2024

It’s disappointing, but not surprising, to see Drake advocate for Tory Lanez after being convicted of shooting Megan Thee Stallion

Drake compels the masses like a seasoned advertising director. He knows sharing something as simple as a new hairdo will strangle social media for days on end. So when he called for Tory Lanez’s freedom on his Instagram story, he knew it would garner similar visibility as activists screaming “Free Meek Mill” from the streets of Philadelphia. On Monday, Drake posted a picture of Tory and “3 You,” a version of “Free You” where the three were set to represent open handcuffs. 

“Free [Insert Person”] is standard cultural parlance in communities of color. “Free Meek” was a stand against the Philly rapper’s prolonged probation. “Free Mumia [Abu-Jamal]” is about amplifying a freedom fighter who people believe was unjustly convicted. Other times, like with “Free Bobby Shmurda,” it can be a complicated admission that even if we know someone did wrong, we understand that systemic inequality can encourage bad choices from good people, essentially creating a long-looping form of entrapment. 

You may scream “free” someone as an advocate, loved one, or an empathizer. But screaming “Free Tory Lanez,” is an asshole move. 

Popular on Rolling Stone

Last August, Tory was sentenced to 10 years in California State Prison for shooting Megan Thee Stallion in 2020. In December 2022, he was convicted of assault with a semi-automatic firearm, carrying a loaded, unregistered firearm in a vehicle, and discharging a firearm with gross negligence. 

He���s on a recorded call apologizing to Megan’s former friend Kelsey for an unknown grievance that many deduce to be Megan’s shooting. During testimony, Kelsey called the notion that she shot Megan “ridiculous.” A witness in the trial testified that he saw a “shorter man,” alleged to be Tory, firing “four to five” shots and then beating Megan as she lay bleeding in a fetal position. But despite the mountain of evidence suggesting his guilt, Drake, Chris Brown, Meek Mill, and others have since expressed solidarity with Tory. Are they saying they don’t believe Megan, or that they don’t care what happened to her?

Editor’s picks

Since that night, people treated the shooting like a soap opera or binary of fandom instead of a traumatic incident that someone should atone for. On “Cobra,” Megan rapped about dealing with depression, alcohol dependency, and suicidal ideation since being shot. Her account of that night was scrutinized by armchair sleuths, and she was relentlessly lampooned by entertainers and consumers. Tory even took part in the circus, chopping a horse leg in his “CAP” video. As I noted before about Tina and Ike Turner, hip-hop has a penchant for playing too much, perhaps because many of its progenitors are so predisposed to toxic behavior and violence that we don’t know how to take domestic violence seriously. But that dynamic almost always turns into disrespecting women survivors, and it’s no excuse for how Megan is being treated.

Drake’s had several weird dustups with women in recent years. During a recent stop on his Big As The What tour, he made a point to play “Work” with Rihanna, then tell the crowd that he doesn’t perform the song anymore. That comes after dissing her and A$AP Rocky on For All The Dogs’ “Fear of Heights.” And, more alarmingly, he’s shouted out rapper and friend Baka Not Nice, who in 2015 pled guilty to assaulting a 22-year-old woman who he was charged with forcing into sex trafficking. The woman didn’t testify in the case, so he wasn’t tried on the latter charge. While Baka was incarcerated, Drake rhymed, “I might declare it a holiday as soon as Baka get back on the road,” on 2015’s “Know Yourself.” Would women be invited to that celebration? Perhaps Drake should head to his room full of bras and reflect on whether he genuinely cares about the humanity of any of the former owners. 

It’s unclear when he and Megan, who were pictured together in 2019, first fell out. In 2022, he rapped “this bitch lie ’bout getting shots, but she still a stallion” on Her Loss’ “Circo Loco.” Last summer, he made it a point to snidely clarify “not that Meg,” while shouting out photographer MegYup during his It’s All A Blurtour. And now, after Megan may have dissed him on “Hiss” (she intentionally refrained from naming names so hit dogs could holler) he’s advocated for her attacker. 

Related

Drake isn’t the first person to speak up for Tory post-sentencing, either. Chris Brown, who assaulted Rihanna and has been accused of over 20 instances of violence (many against women), called to “Free Tory” on streamer Adin Ross’ live stream, calling Tory “a solid dude.” His morally questionable comments are unsurprising. 

Last July, Meek Mill screamed “Free Tory” while performing at Rolling Loud Portugal. He later doubled down, tweeting, “I say free young thug … free lucci … free melly I don’t even know why y’all start dealing with us if yall gone try to smear us.’ Of course, there is a layer of nuance. Anti-prison abolitionists believe that the justice system is inherently racist and should be uprooted. But even those progressives didn’t feel much sorrow when Tory was convicted because of his conduct and arrogance throughout the leadup to the trial. Restorative justice advocates believe there can be a world where people who commit violence can take accountability, and apologize to the person they hurt, and everyone can heal without the need for incarceration. 

There is a belief that the modern justice system, which essentially requires a suspect to deny their guilt, doesn’t help a survivor heal, and the dehumanizing conditions of prison certainly aren’t a rehabilitative environment for violators. Some abolitionists may believe that Tory shouldn’t be incarcerated because prisons shouldn’t exist in the first place. That is a complicated discussion. But it’s also not likely that Drake, Brown, or Meek were saying “Free Tory” from an abolitionist lens — they were just trying to support the boys club. 

Trending

Despite Tory’s conviction, the bowels of the gossip blogosphere, run by misogynistic podcasters and streamers, still cling to rumors of suppressed videos and secret witnesses and anything else that may appear out of fairy dust to legally absolve the Toronto artist and affirm their twisted belief that women are never to be trusted. It’s sad to think that so many of music’s biggest names enabling that cohort. 

Despite their increasingly blatant misogynoir, artists like Drake still boast devoted fanbases who will propel him to record-breaking streaming numbers and refer to him as their figurative “husband.” It’s more proof that advocacy for a convicted violator of a Black woman isn’t a cardinal sin. If anything, it’s the norm. How long will we let that be the case?

Sent from my iPhone

Translation: if you love your man so much, schedule for sex in prison Aubrey Graham.

or better yet just go to hell and take your bald head biiich with you.

[cyarsk52-20]

21h ago

A Reminder for Drake and Others: Tory Lanez is Not a Martyr

It’s disappointing, but not surprising, to see Drake advocate for Tory Lanez after being convicted of shooting Megan Thee Stallion

ROLLING STONE

GIF by theozkids

A Reminder for Drake and Others: Tory Lanez Is Not a Martyr

It’s disappointing, but not surprising, to see Drake advocate for Tory Lanez after being convicted of shooting Megan Thee Stallion

ROLLING STONE

A Reminder for Drake and Others: Tory Lanez Is Not a Martyr

It’s disappointing, but not surprising, to see Drake advocate for Tory Lanez after being convicted of shooting Megan Thee Stallion

By Andre GeeFebruary 27, 2024

It’s disappointing, but not surprising, to see Drake advocate for Tory Lanez after being convicted of shooting Megan Thee Stallion

Drake compels the masses like a seasoned advertising director. He knows sharing something as simple as a new hairdo will strangle social media for days on end. So when he called for Tory Lanez’s freedom on his Instagram story, he knew it would garner similar visibility as activists screaming “Free Meek Mill” from the streets of Philadelphia. On Monday, Drake posted a picture of Tory and “3 You,” a version of “Free You” where the three were set to represent open handcuffs. 

“Free [Insert Person”] is standard cultural parlance in communities of color. “Free Meek” was a stand against the Philly rapper’s prolonged probation. “Free Mumia [Abu-Jamal]” is about amplifying a freedom fighter who people believe was unjustly convicted. Other times, like with “Free Bobby Shmurda,” it can be a complicated admission that even if we know someone did wrong, we understand that systemic inequality can encourage bad choices from good people, essentially creating a long-looping form of entrapment. 

You may scream “free” someone as an advocate, loved one, or an empathizer. But screaming “Free Tory Lanez,” is an asshole move. 

Popular on Rolling Stone

Last August, Tory was sentenced to 10 years in California State Prison for shooting Megan Thee Stallion in 2020. In December 2022, he was convicted of assault with a semi-automatic firearm, carrying a loaded, unregistered firearm in a vehicle, and discharging a firearm with gross negligence. 

He’s on a recorded call apologizing to Megan’s former friend Kelsey for an unknown grievance that many deduce to be Megan’s shooting. During testimony, Kelsey called the notion that she shot Megan “ridiculous.” A witness in the trial testified that he saw a “shorter man,” alleged to be Tory, firing “four to five” shots and then beating Megan as she lay bleeding in a fetal position. But despite the mountain of evidence suggesting his guilt, Drake, Chris Brown, Meek Mill, and others have since expressed solidarity with Tory. Are they saying they don’t believe Megan, or that they don’t care what happened to her?

Editor’s picks

Since that night, people treated the shooting like a soap opera or binary of fandom instead of a traumatic incident that someone should atone for. On “Cobra,” Megan rapped about dealing with depression, alcohol dependency, and suicidal ideation since being shot. Her account of that night was scrutinized by armchair sleuths, and she was relentlessly lampooned by entertainers and consumers. Tory even took part in the circus, chopping a horse leg in his “CAP” video. As I noted before about Tina and Ike Turner, hip-hop has a penchant for playing too much, perhaps because many of its progenitors are so predisposed to toxic behavior and violence that we don’t know how to take domestic violence seriously. But that dynamic almost always turns into disrespecting women survivors, and it’s no excuse for how Megan is being treated.

Drake’s had several weird dustups with women in recent years. During a recent stop on his Big As The What tour, he made a point to play “Work” with Rihanna, then tell the crowd that he doesn’t perform the song anymore. That comes after dissing her and A$AP Rocky on For All The Dogs’ “Fear of Heights.” And, more alarmingly, he’s shouted out rapper and friend Baka Not Nice, who in 2015 pled guilty to assaulting a 22-year-old woman who he was charged with forcing into sex trafficking. The woman didn’t testify in the case, so he wasn’t tried on the latter charge. While Baka was incarcerated, Drake rhymed, “I might declare it a holiday as soon as Baka get back on the road,” on 2015’s “Know Yourself.” Would women be invited to that celebration? Perhaps Drake should head to his room full of bras and reflect on whether he genuinely cares about the humanity of any of the former owners. 

It’s unclear when he and Megan, who were pictured together in 2019, first fell out. In 2022, he rapped “this bitch lie ’bout getting shots, but she still a stallion” on Her Loss’ “Circo Loco.” Last summer, he made it a point to snidely clarify “not that Meg,” while shouting out photographer MegYup during his It’s All A Blurtour. And now, after Megan may have dissed him on “Hiss” (she intentionally refrained from naming names so hit dogs could holler) he’s advocated for her attacker. 

Related

Drake isn’t the first person to speak up for Tory post-sentencing, either. Chris Brown, who assaulted Rihanna and has been accused of over 20 instances of violence (many against women), called to “Free Tory” on streamer Adin Ross’ live stream, calling Tory “a solid dude.” His morally questionable comments are unsurprising. 

Last July, Meek Mill screamed “Free Tory” while performing at Rolling Loud Portugal. He later doubled down, tweeting, “I say free young thug … free lucci … free melly I don’t even know why y’all start dealing with us if yall gone try to smear us.’ Of course, there is a layer of nuance. Anti-prison abolitionists believe that the justice system is inherently racist and should be uprooted. But even those progressives didn’t feel much sorrow when Tory was convicted because of his conduct and arrogance throughout the leadup to the trial. Restorative justice advocates believe there can be a world where people who commit violence can take accountability, and apologize to the person they hurt, and everyone can heal without the need for incarceration. 

There is a belief that the modern justice system, which essentially requires a suspect to deny their guilt, doesn’t help a survivor heal, and the dehumanizing conditions of prison certainly aren’t a rehabilitative environment for violators. Some abolitionists may believe that Tory shouldn’t be incarcerated because prisons shouldn’t exist in the first place. That is a complicated discussion. But it’s also not likely that Drake, Brown, or Meek were saying “Free Tory” from an abolitionist lens — they were just trying to support the boys club. 

Trending

Despite Tory’s conviction, the bowels of the gossip blogosphere, run by misogynistic podcasters and streamers, still cling to rumors of suppressed videos and secret witnesses and anything else that may appear out of fairy dust to legally absolve the Toronto artist and affirm their twisted belief that women are never to be trusted. It’s sad to think that so many of music’s biggest names enabling that cohort. 

Despite their increasingly blatant misogynoir, artists like Drake still boast devoted fanbases who will propel him to record-breaking streaming numbers and refer to him as their figurative “husband.” It’s more proof that advocacy for a convicted violator of a Black woman isn’t a cardinal sin. If anything, it’s the norm. How long will we let that be the case?

Sent from my iPhone

Translation: if you love your man so much, schedule for sex in prison Aubrey Graham.

or better yet just go to hell and take your bald head biiich with you.

[aotopmha]

Some more FFXIV thoughts with 6.45 out (and a little bit of FFXVI sprinkled in there):

Spoilers!

So, Endwalker Hildibrand has been fantastic.

The issue with earlier Hildibrand was something A Realm Reborn and Heavensward shared in general (and now turns out FF16 does, too).

There just randomly were lulls where none of the fun wierd stuff was happening and everything screeched to a halt to simply "get there".

ARR had that horrible wine quest, Heavensward the Moogle quest and FF16 the ship quest.

And none of them needed to be as long as they were.

And not like Stormblood, Shadowbringers and especially Endwalker didn't have any of that, but at least the moments there either didn't last that long or were punctuated with much more compelling story.

But those three also had stuff like Ruby Sea (in fact some would argue SB had it worse than any of the expansions, having an entire zone of bore, HW and ARR just had some slow quests), the lead-up to Vauthry and the final Labyrinthos stretch.

(And to be fair, the Moogle quest did preceed some very good reveals.)

Yeah, about a decade in and the narrative pacing still went backwards in quality from Shadowbringers to Endwalker.

But the side stuff absolutely has seen massive improvements.

Some fantastic tribe quests, especially stuff like the Omicron and Loporrit quests in Endwalker, and just simple side quests adding much more to the main narrative than they often did in earlier expansions.

(Amaurot and Elpis in particular come to mind here. But also quests like the Tataru and Omega ones that have much more effort put in them than pretty much any others.)

I would argue the Alliance Raid in Endwalker is the first time an Alliance Raid story is relevant in just the right way, not minimal setup like Crystal Tower, but interesting story that is important, but not *too* important to the point where you can't experience the main story without it.

And to finally come to 6.45, Hildbrand has been part of that, as well, I think. Just so much better pacing between the zany and the mundane.

This latest Hildi quest was just a fantastic parody of the alien origin trope. I was laughing the entire way through the "reveal" sequence. So stupid. So wonderful.

Brandihild is also an absolute stroke of genius.

This entire questline is a great vehicle for the space theme of Endwalker.

But going back to more general talk, I really hope they just seriously work on the general pacing of the main expansions from this point on.

It doesn't need to be the longest story with the most content, all parts just need to flow together really well and be really well written.

The fact that 16 couldn't learn from ShB makes me sad, too. You can really tell it started development right after Heavensward because I think it basically shares pretty much all of the writing issues with ARR and HW in particular.

And maybe some of it isn't as bad as it seems if you put it into perspective, but it sure often *feels* longer than it should be. That's all because of it being written in a specific way.

Shadowbringers got the narrative structure and pacing *almost* perfect. I'd personally at most remove bits of Ill Mheg, Rak'tika, some of the lead-up to Malikah's Well and of course a step or two from the lead up to Vauthry as mentioned above.

(The latter bit and the Labyrinthos would actually already be improved by just giving them better variation in music.)

But I think ShB and EW mostly need trimming rather than complete removal or rewrites of sections.

I really think ARR, Heavensward and Stormblood especially really need (further) cuts, though. Some of it really doesn't add anything to the world and works better as a brief joke or detour than a prolonged bit.

People will stick around if the content is good. Padding keeps people around in the worst way possible.

I hoped 16 being a "new" story compared to 14 being inherited would not have as big of an issue with it and it would get the chance to learn from 14, but now I really hope they listen in regards of the pacing and take away the right lessons from the criticism directed at the side quests in 16: less fetch quests with nobodies, more character focus with the cast we care about, incorporating world building into the story via them and really looking at pacing stopgaps, how to slow down and when to (and not to) slow down because I really think it is the biggest narrative issue these games face.

I feel like 7.0 would be the perfect place to combine all of these lessons in storytelling, being "a new beginning" and I feel like the 6.x have been doing pretty well in that sense because patches tend to have pretty wild variations in pacing (5.1 vs 5.3).

Having concise prose, knowing when to speed up and slow down in the story and keeping it all compelling and exciting all the way through in long form while also making a good game around it all really feels extremely tough if you lay it out in the most simple terms like this.

But I'm very curious what they will and won't learn from all of this.

[likecardetailingau]

When Should You Detail Your Car?

Introduction

Detailing your car is the most important maintenance step you can take. Detailing your car regularly will ensure that it looks its best and helps protect it from the harmful effects of rain, snow, salt or other environmental elements. If you have a new model or just bought a used car, detailed cleaning is even more important because these vehicles are typically not pre-owned by someone who was as meticulous about their own car care as you are!

If Its Been a Long Time Since the Last Detailing

As a car owner, you want to make sure that your vehicle looks its best. You also want it to be protected, clean and well-maintained. Getting your car detailing adelaide is an excellent way to accomplish all of these goals. One thing that many people don't know is that getting a regular detailing can help you sell your car for more money than a similar vehicle without the same level of detailing would fetch.

The last thing you want when selling your vehicle is for the buyer or their inspector to notice something in need of repair or maintenance before they make an offer on the car.

If You Are Preparing Your Car for Sale

When preparing your car for sale, you want to make sure that it is as spotless as possible. You can wash it and vacuum the interior, but if there are any scratches or dents they should be fixed before going on the market. You will also want to check the engine for leaks, because a used car buyer may not be willing to buy a vehicle with expensive maintenance problems. Fluid levels in your car should all be topped up (including oil), tires should be in good condition, and brakes must be checked as well.

If Your Car Has a Large Amount of Salt or Dirt on It

If you live in an area where it snows or rains a lot, chances are your car has collected an excessive amount of dirt and salt. Salt is bad for the paint on your car because it can cause rust and corrosion, which will not only make it look bad but also reduce its value as a trade-in. The same goes for dirt—it's easy to see how accumulating large amounts of dirt over time could damage the paint job on your vehicle.

If this sounds like you, then you should definitely consider getting your vehicle detailed by a professional service or doing it yourself with some high-quality products like the ones we sell at [Company Name], because they contain special ingredients that will remove those unwanted contaminants from your car's exterior without damaging its finish in any way!

Before and After Your Summer Road Trip

Before you leave for your long summer road trip, it's important to do a thorough cleaning of your car and interior. This will ensure that there are no dirt spots or stains left behind on the seats, dashboard, or carpeting.

Some things to consider before you take off on your summer vacation:

Wash and wax your car. This will keep it clean during the trip and protect its exterior from damage caused by road debris flying around as you drive down the interstate at 70 miles per hour! Cleaning products used in detailing services like Pinnacle Auto Detail can also help keep paint jobs looking sharp even after months of exposure to sunlight and water damage (caused by rain).

Detail undercarriage parts such as fluid reservoirs underneath cars' hoods so that they don't leak when it rains heavily during the trip; this will also prevent any rusting that might occur due to prolonged exposure to moisture accumulating in those areas over time (which could lead later down line if ignored). It's also recommended not only because having working fluids makes sure everything runs smoothly but also because having access points covered up could lead them being clogged with dust/debris which may cause overheating issues later down line if left unchecked!

If Your Car Is a New Model or New to You and Needs TLC

If your car is a new model or new to you and needs TLC, then it's time for a detail. That new car smell will have disappeared, the car is dirty and needs cleaning anyway, and you may want to protect its paintwork against scratches or other damage that can occur when driving on rough roads.

professional car detailing adelaide

Professional car detailing adelaide

There are many reasons to detail your car, and if you’re interested in getting your vehicle detailed professionally then it pays to know when that should happen.

Professional car detailing adelaide

Car detailing Adelaide is the process of cleaning and polishing the exterior of a vehicle with a specific focus on its paintwork. Car detailers will use an array of tools and chemicals in order to ensure that dirt, grime and surface defects are removed from the bodywork before it receives its final coatings. This includes:

Washing away road salt residue from winter weather (if applicable)

Removing bird droppings

Cleaning window screens/wind deflectors

Detailing wheels including rims and tyres

Conclusion

If you have any questions about when is the best time to detail your car, don’t hesitate to contact us. We will be more than happy to help you out!

[hournites]

how about no capes au where Rick got injured at the shop and Pat tells to go to the hospital but Rick is too stubborn to go. So Pat takes him and they both get greeted by Beth who in this au is a doctor and when she asks Rick what seems to be issue he gets all shy and Pat gets why he didn’t want to come.

~.~

Rick straightened his back with a barely suppressed grimace, rolling out from underneath the rusting white Cadillac he’d been working on all afternoon.

“Take tomorrow off, Rick!”

The owner of the garage came in from the storage room, setting down his new order from Zeek’s junkyard on their sturdy worktable. Fatherly concern creased every corner of his otherwise remarkably ageless face when Rick refused. Honestly, he’d just been mulling over how greatful he was for Pat’s Pit Stop.

He’d stumbled upon the shop by a very fortunate accident way back in high school. Rick had always been fascinated by mechanics and machinery, tasked with prolonging the long-expired life of the West Farm tractor he used to work on at his childhood home. The farm life was a depressing one for a sixteen year old, stuck on the property with his abusive uncle. He was itching to build a car and leave. Uncle Matt undermined any attempt at progress on getting his escape vehicle up and running. Pat noticed Rick rummaging through the garage’s trash bins for anything of use and immediately adopted him, ushering Rick under his wing like a lost wet and very kicked dog.

Sometimes, despite being nearly twenty-seven years old and nine years free from his shitty uncle, Rick felt that Pat still viewed him that way.

“I’m fine,” he groused. Rick pulled himself up from the hard ground, wincing at the throbbing in his foot.

“I don’t know, Rick. I think you ought to go to the hospital.”

He accepted the washcloth that Pat tossed in his direction, burying his face in it as he lamented his shit-stupid accident. Before lunch Rick dropped one of Pat’s old toolboxes on his shoe. It wasn’t so bad on the initial impact. He didn’t even feel a crunch. But his foot felt stuck now in his shoe, and it ached heavily every time he moved.

“No.”

“You can barely support your own weight!”

“So?” Rick snapped irritably. “I don’t need to walk to work on cars.”

“And I don’t need my employees suing me after needing amputations over easily-preventable workplace accidents.”

“Why would I sue you, Pat?”

“Don’t know,” Pat said, hauling a grumbling Rick up from the chair and into his beloved red Buick. “Don’t wanna find out.”

~.~

Blue Valley Medical Centre smelled just as nauseatingly sterile as it had the day Rick kissed his ICU coma patient parents goodbye.

“I don’t want to be here, Pat,” Rick muttered for the thousandth time. The problem was the ache in his foot enflamed dramatically since stepping into the hospital’s parking lot, and Rick was resigned to—noisily—complain about spending the next four-to-six hours here.

“It’s just the hospital,” Pat reminded him patiently. “The same hospital Courtney stayed at when she got appendicitis six months ago. The doctors are excellent here.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem!” Rick snapped, scooting away from Pat, but it sent another wave of pain radiating all the way up his calf. “It’s just very embarrassing to walk in here because I was clumsy and I could just ice this or whatever from home!”

Pat frowned and opened his mouth to argue some more. Rick rolled his eyes to the ceiling, preparing to get ragged on for at least another hour when the door to their room opened.

“Hi!” The doctor strode in with a green stethoscope around her neck, eyes on her clipboard. “Richard Tyler? My name is Dr. Chapel, I’m a fourth-year medical resident for Dr. McNider here at ER, what seems to be the issue?” She glanced up at the two and broke out into a radiant smile. “Oh! Rick! Oh my gosh! I’m sorry, I only just now noticed the name. Long time no see!”

Rick ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck. He wondered if hot flashes was some rare pain side effect that nobody ever talked about. The second she walked in, Rick felt himself shrinking into the chair, overwhelmed as the room spiked in temperature. “Hi Beth.”

Pat glanced between Rick and the doctor several times. “You know this doctor?”

Dr. Chapel shut the door behind her and crossed her arms. “We used to sit together at the same lunch table during high school.”

“That’s so odd. Did you know she worked here?”

“…Yes.”

“Well, then what’s the worry?” Pat wondered out loud, mortifying him. “You didn’t need to make such a fuss to show up here, you know you’re in good hands.” Pat turned to Beth, jutting his thumb out at Rick. “Did you know how hard it was to get this guy out here? You’d think I was sending him to his funeral.”

“Did he, really?”

“Shut up, Pat,” Rick whispered fiercely, jabbing the man hard and sharp as he could with his elbow.

Pat side-eyed Rick, who could barely muster a proper look at Dr. Chapel without turning away again, flustered. “Oh,” he whispered to himself. “Now I get it.”

Dr. Chapel smiled easily. “What’s brought you here, Rick?”

Rick flushed all over again. “Uh…”

“He hurt his foot!” Pat said for him. “Dropped metal all over it. I think it all swell up! I told Rick he’d be lucky if it’s not broken!”

“Pat, can you not?”

Beth’s sweet grin folded into a concerned frown. “Oh dear.” She turned to slip on blue gloves and helped him hobble to the examination bed. “Let’s get that looked at.”

Beth—Dr. Chapel—helped pry off Rick’s jammed shoe. And to her credit, barely flinched at the blue and purpling mess found underneath his sock. “We’re going to need to get this X-rayed,” she confirmed grimly. Rick hissed at the pressure she pressed against it. She paused, meeting his eye.

“You seem very stressed.”

Pat laughed out loud. “I reckon he’s got as big a crush on you as that gnarly looking bruise.”

Beth gasped out a startled laugh. “Is that it?”

“Pat!” Rick sat up on his elbows. “Get out!”

“I’m out! I’m out!” Pat shook his head, still chuckling to himself as he got on up and excused himself to find the vending machines. “And while you’re at it Dr. Chapel, do you mind telling him to take the day off? You seem to be the only person I know that might get this man to listen.”

Beth saluted playfully. “I’ll try.”

[apocalypseornaw]

Always be Yours- 1

Word count 4,769.

Story Summary: Inspired by the 2 part I did of the same title. Set in season 9/10

Chapter Summary: When Dean calls to tell you Sam is in grave condition at the hospital you hurry to his side and in turn start to get pulled even deeper into the Winchesters' lives than you already were.

You were in Old Forge, New York working a simple haunting case when the night sky was suddenly lit up with what would appear to be meteors. You barely got the bones burnt before your phone started ringing. You pulled it out your jacket and felt your stomach knot in worry when you saw Dean's name flash across the screen."Hey Dean, what's up?" you climbed out the open grave and heard what was clearly baby's engine roar to life in the background "Y/N where are you?" "Old Forge New York, Why?" you braced the phone against your shoulder and started to shovel dirt back into the hole. "Those aren't meteors" you stopped working for a moment and glanced up at the sky "Then what the hell are they?" "Angels"

Your jeep moved across the pavement while you tried to control your speed so as to not get pulled over and prolong you getting to Randolph even more. From what Dean had told you the trials had went bad fast and Sam was in bad shape. You knew they were a bad idea from the moment the boys bounced the idea off of you but they had been hell bent on doing them, yeah the payoff of the gates of hell being closed forever sounded worth it but not at the price of losing one of them. As for the angels apparently Cas had been ungoing some sort of trials as well which shockingly enough had also went south so he was missing in action while every angel in heaven fell to earth. Your thoughts filled with worry for him right along with worry for your best friend and his brother. You had to get to Randolph. Sam needed you, Dean needed you.

------

You had just reached the outskirts of Randolph when your phone rang again. You didn't even look at the screen before answering it "Please tell me it's good news Dean" you heard him take a deep breath and braced yourself but it still hit hard when he said "They asked me about organ donation. They're already giving up on him" You ran your free hand over your face to try to calm yourself. Dean needed someone to be there for him "We won't. I'm close can you meet me outside?" "I'll be in the parking garage, I got Crowley in my trunk" You didn't even ask the how or why as to the king of hell ending up in his trunk and simply said "Ok"

You parked in the first avalible spot then climbed out and headed towards the upper levels. Baby was easy to spot so it wouldn't be a hard find. You felt your stomach drop when you walked around a corner to see Dean pinned to baby's trunk and the man holding him raise an angel blade into the air fuck that meant he was an angel.

Before you made it to him another man came out of nowhere and caught the offender's arm with that show of strength that made him an angel as well. They shared some words then the one who was attacking Dean threw a punch on the one who intervened. Dean spotted you when he took the chance to glance around and shook his head so you ducked behind the nearest vehicle so you could watch should it turn on Dean again but be out of sight. Dean grabbed the discarded blade and slammed it into his attacker's back so you stood up and ran over to him about the time he asked the one who'd intervened who he was. The other angel had gotten pretty beat up in the fight but barely glanced your way as he told Dean "Doesn't matter. You're Dean Winchester and I am here to help" then collasped.

Dean looked at you then back at the angel "Ok" "What now?" You asked and Dean dug the keys to baby out and held them out "Grab the holy oil out the backseat. We need to get him somewhere secure before he wakes up" you took the keys and unlocked the car then leaned in. There were several jugs and flasks in the back floorboard "Which one Dean?" You asked glancing over your shoulder at him. He was trying to get the angel up so he could drag him to the nearby storage room "White flask" you grabbed the flask and shoved it in your hip pocket then locked baby back before moving to grab the angel's feet. Dean noddded "Thanks"

------

Once you had the angel in the circle of holy oil you glanced back at Dean and he lit the oil with his lighter. As it flared to life the angel started to come around and Dean reached forward to push you behind him sliding the angel blade into your hand as he did so. You took a moment to actually look over the angel or well his vessel anyways as he climbed to his feet. Cas was really the only angel you'd ever dealt with on the regular and while you trusted him with your life you'd learned from him and the boys as well that most other angels weren't really the trust worthy kind. "You want to help?" Dean asked and the angel looked between the two of you then gave the barest of a nod. "Start with a name" Dean snarled and you gripped the blade as the angel finally said "Ezekiel"

"All right Ezekiel, how do I know you're not hunting me or Castiel like the other angels?" you hated the idea of Cas going against a fucking legion of pissed off angels but your concentration had to be on the angel currently in front of you. Ezekiel stared at Dean for just a moment before answering "Oh, I'm sure there are many angels who are. Many more are on their way here, most likely" Dean's eyes flicked towards you before asking how Ezekiel knew that. "You put out an open prayer like that.." Ezekiel started and Dean finished "I must really be desperate"

You met Ezekiel's eyes when he said "Believe it or not. some of us still do believe in our mission. And that means we believe in Castiel.." then he looked back to Dean then added "And you" "You said you were hurt during the fall?" Dean asked and you glanced over Ezekiel knowing you couldn't see the injuries he meant but the reaction was a gut one. "I was, entangling with my brother back there did me no favors but what strength I have, I offer to you"

Dean held up a finger to Ezekiel "Hold on" then cut his eyes at you "Y/N you're Sam's best friend. What do you think?" You took a deep breath and hoped you were making the right decision when you said "If he can save Sam it's worth the risk" that seemed to be all Dean needed so he pulled the vial of holy water out and splashed the circle to let Ezekiel out.

You offered the angel blade back to Dean hilt first and he hesitated "Sweetheart I wouldn't have called you if I would've known but I think you need to hit the road before the other angels get here" You shook your head "Hell no. I'm here now and I'm staying until Sam walks out this damn hospital" the slightest smirk pulled at Dean's lips before he said "I see why he likes having you around"

-------

You walked into Sam's room between Dean and Ezekiel and stopped in your tracks. God he looked almost dead. You stood back while Dean and Ezekiel walked closer to the bed. Ezekiel touched Sam's chest and Dean asked the question that was weighing on your mind since Ezekiel said he was injured "You still able to heal things after the fall?" You let out a slight breath when Ezekiel replied "Yes I should be, but he's so weak"

Dean's phone started ringing and you cut your eyes at him when he answered and mouthed "Cas" then stepped out into the hall.

"Ezekiel?" you spoke and he looked your way "He's my best friend. These two have been here for me when I didn't have anyone. Please save him" He nodded "I'm going to try" about that time a rumbling made you look up. It was like a mini earthquake almost. "Angels?" you asked and Ezekiel walked to the window and nodded.

Dean walked back in the door and asked Ezekiel "One of yours?" "Trying to secure a vessel. We need to move" you glanced at Sam's lifeless form "If we move Sam, he dies" Dean shoved his thumb in your direction "What she said" "If we stay, we could all die" Ezekiel said. You glanced around trying to figure out a plan and spotted the markers along the board in the room. "Dean, sigils?" you grabbed one and chunked the other to him as the two of you started putting every warding sigil you knew in place.

Once you were done Dean said "long as these are up, no angels are coming in. No one's coming out. You gonna be ok with these?" you knew he was asking Ezekiel who simply said "I'll manage"

Ezekiel turned his head slightly like he was hearing something so Dean asked "What?" "They're here" Dean nodded and walked towards the door "Y/N do not open this door for anybody but me" you shook your head and motioned back to Ezekiel "Tell him that, I'm coming with you" "Like hell you are!" Dean argued but you leveled him with a look "We don't have time for this Dean. If you're fighting angels, god dammit so am I" He looked from you to Sam's still form and sighed in defeat "Fuck, come on" then pointed to Sam and told Ezekiel "Save him, you hear me?" before the two of you headed out into the hall.

You and Dean moved towards the other end of the hall with the plan in mind to keep the other angels as far from Sam as possible. Both of you started running when the windows started blowing out. Dean pulled the pin from the fire alarm so you hollered "EVERYBODY OUT! NOW!" the shaking was getting worse and a glass case of medicine exploded behind the two of you coating you both in glass.

Dean saw a woman stumble and moved to help her up about the time a man came around the corner. When he pulled the angel blade you cursed under your breath and turned to see the woman had Dean around the throat "Son of a bitch" the man backhanded you about the time the woman hit Dean and the both of you landed in a crumpled mess not far from each other, blood already running down the sides of each of your faces.

The male vessel drug you down the hall and the female vessel drug Dean then laid you both out in the middle of the hall. The female vessel stood between your feet and spoke to Dean "Let me make this easy, tell me where Castiel is or your brother's gonna wish he was dead" "Good luck getting past the warding" Dean said with a smirk and you couldn't help but share in the knowledge that Sam was protected. "But we will" the female vessel said and hauled Dean to his feet and landed a hard kick to your stomach as the male vessel broke the glass covering the emergency axe. "And when we do, I'm gonna strip off all his skin and you're gonna watch" she looked back at you "then I'll do the same to her"

"Bite me" you and Dean both growled. She punched him sending him backwards then gave you a kick that you were certain cracked a rib or two but put you near Dean who chuckled as you both pushed yourself up "Anybody ever tell you, you hit like an angel?" she kicked him in the face so you added "or a bitch.Whichever you prefer" and were rewarded with a hard backhand but it gave Dean at least a moment to catch his breath.

You both fell to your knees and you saw him catching your blood and knew what he was doing. When he held up a hand and said "Ok,wait wait" you hurried to finish the banishing sigil for him. "I'll tell you where Cas is" he was trying to keep attention on himself and off of you. When he saw you were done he added "I just have one question?" "Ask" the female vessel said so he met your eyes before saying "If heaven is locked,where do you go when we do this?" so you slammed your bloody palm down on the sigil blocking your eyes with Dean's arm from the flash of the angels disappearing.

"Y/N?" he grunted as you pushed yourself to your feet holding an arm around your mid section "I'm alive. Let's get to Sam"

------

The alarms were going insane when you busted in the room behind Dean "What the hell's happening?" Dean asked but you knew. Sam was dying. "This just started" Ezekiel explained waving a hand towards the machines. "and the warding..I'm afraid I'm weaker than I thought" you and Dean both started crossing out sigils as the alarms kept blaring.

"I am sorry Dean, Y/N" "No. We had a deal, ok? We fight, you save" Dean was getting angry and you couldn't blame him. You both had just gotten your asses handed to you only for Ezekiel to say he couldn't save Sam? "I would if I could. I'm just afraid it's too late"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asked and it broke your heart to hear the slight break in his voice "Are you saying there's no way to save my brother's life?" Ezekiel wouldn't look at either of you when he said "No good ways, I'm afraid" "Then what are the bad ones?" you asked before Dean got a chance. "We're out of options here man. Good or bad let us hear them" Dean all but begged.

"I can not promise but there is a chance I can fix him from the inside" "From the inside? So what you're gonna open him up?" Dean asked but one look at Ezekiel and you put together what he meant "He wants to possess Sam" Dean looked between you and Ezekiel "You want to possess him?" Ezekiel turned his eyes from you to Dean "I told you" "No way" Dean cut him off so Ezekiel nodded "Understood. It's your call" you walked closer to the bed and let your fingertips barely brush Sam's arm and said "No it's his call" "and there's no way in hell he'd say yes" Dean finished your thought.

"He would rather die?" Ezekiel asked and you both nodded so he stood then raised his hand to quiet the machines. "I'll leave you two alone with him then" he walked past you and you swallowed back tears that threatened to spring to your eyes before Dean stopped Ezekiel "Wait"

You grimaced from the pain in your side as you turned to look at Dean who gave you a small nod before telling Ezekiel "If I consider this,just consider this. You got to give me something man. You got to prove how bad he really is" Ezekiel walked over near you and reached to lay a hand on Sam's forehead then told Dean to close his eyes and put one on his as well. A part of you wished you could see what was going on also but it only took a few seconds before Dean opened his eyes "Y/N he's giving up" the pain in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"How will it work?" you asked pulling your eyes from Sam to look at Ezekiel. "Mutual benefit, I suppose. I heal Sam while healing myself" "And when he's healed?" Dean asked catching your eyes as Ezekiel promised "I leave"

"We're out of options Dean" you whispered feeling so very defeated. "Even if I said yes Y/N you know it wouldn't mean squat. Sam will never say yes,not to him" "But he would say yes to you" Ezekiel offered his eyes on Dean. Dean closed his for a moment before saying "Do it"

You stepped over next to Dean and turned your face slightly when Ezekiel's grace transferred from his vessel into Sam. He sucked in a deep breath then looked at Dean "We need to go"

------

After Ezekiel had Sam dressed he healed Dean then you and all three of you took the stairs leading down out the hospital. You were walking next to Dean while he asked Ezekiel how it looked inside of Sam "There is much work to be done" "But he's gonna wake up right?" Dean asked giving voice to your worry. "He will" Ezekiel assured you both.

Dean nodded then you leaned up to look at Ezekiel "When he wakes up is he gonna feel you inside, triaging his spleen?" "No. There is no reason for Sam to know I'm in here at all" Dean scoffed "You're joking. No, this is too big" you agreed with Dean. There was no way you could keep a secret that big from Sam. "And what will he do if either of you tell him he is possessed by an angel?"

"Well he'll have to understand" Dean replied but you shook your head "Dean you and I both know after Lucifer? he'll fight it" "If Sam ejects me, he will die" Ezekiel confirmed your worst fear. Dean turned to see your face and must have seen the acceptance there because he agreed "Then we keep it a secret for now or until Sam's well enough he doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or we find a way to tell him. As for him being in the hospital I'll have to figure something out. Any ideas Y/N? " before you could open your mouth Ezekiel offered to erase Sam's memories of the hospital. Dean sighed "Do it" then looked at you "We need to talk"

The two of you walked a few yards from Ezekiel before Dean turned to face you "Y/N thank you for coming" "Dean he's my best friend and I care about you both" he half smirked which was a watered down version of his usual one "Always knew you had a thing for me" you rolled your eyes knowing he always buried feelings under many layers of sarcasm. "Oh of course I always get my ass kicked by angels to get a guy's attention" he scoffed then his face sobered "Cas called before the angels showed up" your attention perked up at the mention of Cas but your heart nearly stopped when Dean told you what had happened with Metatron "He's human?" Cas, no powers and very much mortal which most of the angelic population after him? Yeah you didn't like that. "Yeah I told him to head for the bunker" Dean seemed a bit apprehensive but you quickly agreed "That sounds like the best place to be right now"

Dean nodded then offered "You could come with us too, you know?" you motioned towards Ezekiel "and how are we going to explain to Sam when he wakes up that I've popped up out of nowhere?" "Good point" he replied then smiled in earnest and added "Ya know I'm glad you're one of the few that's stuck around with us" you smiled then said "I really just stick around now for the off chance that you will one day let me drive baby" he laughed "That's not gonna happen but if you want to come to the bunker there's always a room for you" you laughed "I may take you up on it. Hit the road I'm going to take the long way around and see if I can find Cas or a trail if I hear anything I'll call. When I get that way I'll come through Lebanon" Dean glanced around then pulled an angel blade out his jacket and held it out to you "Watch your ass, you've already been spotted with me" you took the blade and tucked it away under your jacket before saying "I always knew you were bad company Dean Winchester" he half smiled before you turned to walk away while he and Ezekiel headed for baby. You hated lying to Sam but you couldn't lose him either. You sighed and resigned yourself to keeping the secret until he was healed enough to live without Ezekiel.

------

You drove for hours trying to get as close to Colorado as you could before forcing yourself to pull off and catch a few hours of sleep somewhere in Nevada. You didn't want to bother with a motel room so you pulled a page out of Dean's book and simply found a patch of woods to park your jeep in and locked it up with your gun close at hand before dozing off in the drivers seat.

------

You woke a few hours later when the sun was slowly climbing into the sky and groaned at the kink in your neck. You rotated it in a tight circle and realized your phone ringing was what had woke you up. You reached for it and barely glanced at the screen to see Sam's name before answering "Sammy?" you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding when you heard him laugh "You know you and Dean are the only people on earth I'd ever let call me that" thank god he was ok.

"Yeah I know I'm special. What's up?" you moved around in the seat trying to stretch out your muscles. "Are you alright? Did Dean update you on everything going on?" the image of Ezekiel's grace flowing into Sam's body flashed through your mind before you shook your head and responded "Um angels fell down, Cas is human and we have a ton load of shit falling down around us due to a few thousand nukes on the loose?" "Only you could compress that much stuff into a sentence that small" you laughed "It's a natural talent"

You could hear Dean in the background asking where you were "Um Sidney Nevada?" Sam relayed the information and Dean let out a low whistle "Good lord did she turn the jeep into a fucking plane?" you rolled your eyes at him of all people calling someone out for the way they drove "He's one to talk. Anyways I'm about two hours shy of Longmont I'm going to start at the payphone Cas called from and work my way to the bunker from there. Shouldn't take but another day or so. You boys up for a little company?" "Well Kevin's still at the bunker so as long as you don't mind dealing with all of us" Sam teased and you couldn't help but smile hearing him joke around after seeing him in that hospital bed. "I think I can manage. I'll call if I find anything" "Ok Y/N. Watch your back and if you get in a tight spot.." "I'll call" you promised before you said your goodbyes and he hung up.

You opened the door and stepped out the jeep stretching out slowly. There was a truck stop a few miles up the road where you could grab a shower before heading into Longmont. You had to be careful about how you asked after Cas so if any other angel was in ear shot because if those assholes rolled like demons they already heard that you were at Dean's side in Randolph meaning they may assume you know where Cas was.

-------

You fell into your jeep with a grunt. The road from Longmont to Lebanon had been going quietly and smoothly. You stopped at gas stations along the way and asked about someone vaguely matching the description for Cas. When you got to Norton you stopped at the last truck stop before you'd make it to Lebanon. Turned out the clerk in the store was a vessel and had assumed you knew more than you did. Luckily he was alone and from the fact that you walked away from the fight with just a bloody head told you he must have been hurt in the fall just as Ezekiel had.

-------

You didn't try to stop and access your wounds,you simply held a bandana to your head and drove the rest of the way to the bunker. When you pulled to a stop only then did you pull the bandana away and give yourself a once over. The only reason it'd bled so much was that your head had been caught on the corner of a display case. There was a good sized gash but you'd had a lot worse and if you could just find a few spare minutes with a first aid kit you could fix yourself right up. You put the bandana back into place then climbed out to grab your bags out the back of the jeep.

You hit Dean's number on your phone and turned it to speaker as you gathered everything that you needed to wash and the weapons that needed cleaning or resupply from the stock the bunker held. "Y/N, where are you at?" was what he said in place of hello. You laughed lightly "Well I'm right outside and was wondering if someone could come give me a hand. Normally I don't have a problem carrying my own stuff but about fifty miles back I got into a bit of a scuffle with one of our winged friends" "Shit sweetheart are you ok?" you could hear him walking up the steps in the background of the call and gave a short laugh "I'm alive, he's not" then ended the call.

You didn't look up when Dean called your name so he grabbed your shoulder and turned you to look at him. He eyed the bandana "Let me see" you pulled it away and grimaced at the look on his face "Is it that bad?" he tentatively touched it then shook his head "We've all had worse. Let's get your stuff inside and we can patch you up" "Thanks Dean" you replied with a smile when he moved the bandana back into place.

------

"Quit moving dammit" Dean growled while he cleaned your head up. You cut your eyes at Sam "He's such a fricking mother goose at times I swear" Sam snorted at the look Dean gave you in response to being called mother goose. "Excuse me Miss I'm gonna go scrap with a fricking angel on my own" You shrugged "I walked away didn't I?"

Dean shook his head and threw down the cloth he'd been using then placed the steri-strips on your skin. "You need to just stay here with us. We could use another set of hands with everything going down and you'll have someone to watch your back" he met your eyes and barely looked towards Sam and you knew what he didn't add aloud was that he had someone else there to keep a set of eyes on Ezekiel keeping up his side of the bargain. You were held in place by those green eyes and tried to ignore the way they always seemed to pull you in. "Fine but if you two go on a hunt I go too" Dean looked over at Sam who smiled "Sounds good to me"

You sat still while Dean finished your head then looked over at Kevin who was looking a little worse for the wear "Kev? When's the last time they fed you like real food?" he grinned "Been a week or so" "DEAN!" you gasped playfully and he looked guilty for a moment before he realized you were screwing with him "Very funny Y/N" you winked at Kevin and said "Let me go get settled in a room then I'll see what I can scrounge up for you"

You stood to follow Sam who was showing you which room you could occupy and heard Dean telling Kevin to not give you any more ammunition to give him hell and laughed. Sam looked back at you and offered his arm so you took it and let him lead you down the hall. "I'm glad you're here Y/N. A lot of cards are falling and it's nice to know you're not alone" you smiled at that and said "It's nice to know I'm not alone too"

　

Tags: @akshi8278 @facadeformyrealblog

[songtoyou]

Chapter 7: No Such Thing As Good News

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,373

Warnings: Swearing

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Summary: Rose wakes up the morning after the gala and her night with Tommy. She meets Isaiah Jesus, who takes her back home. Tommy wants to know more about Louis. We find out that Alfie continues to be a double-crossing little shit. Our favorite Italian mobster catches wind of Tommy taking away his favorite “toy.”

A/N: This chapter was fun to write and brings a lot of new plot development to the story. 

Italics represent past conversations. 

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​ 

The remainder of the night was not a quiet or restful one for Rose. No, Tommy still had needs that he wanted to be met. While the first session was the most intense, the rest after were a tad tamer. Well, as tame as it came when dealing with Tommy Shelby. It was like the man didn’t have the words soft and slow in his vocabulary. Rose noted that when it came to actual sex with Tommy, everything had to be fast and hard. He seemed to take great pleasure in prolonging Rose’s orgasm or retreating just when she was at her peak. It was a long, drawn-out game for Tommy. 

Tommy had Rose on her back, stomach, knees, and on top of him. For a man who was a notorious chain smoker, his stamina was off the charts. He seemed to finally wear himself out by 3 p.m. With Rose on her stomach and head tucked into the pillow, she was quickly falling asleep. She could feel the light caress of Tommy’s hand up-and-down her back. It was as if the gentle act were lulling him to sleep, and soon Rose could hear his soft snores. 

Rose opened her eyes to look at the man sleeping next to her. With the room dark, she could only vaguely make out Tommy’s features. She was able to see a hint of softness to him as he soundly slept. Turning over on her side, Rose pulled up the blankets and fell asleep.

By morning, Rose was awoken by the curtains being drawn back. The blinding sunlight permeated the room. “What the bloody Hell,” Rose groaned and covered her face with the pillow. “It’s too bright.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, miss,” spoke a female voice. “Here, let me close them a little.”

Uncovering her head, Rose looked to see what looked to be a housekeeper in the bedroom. 

“Hi, I’m Rose,” she introduced herself to the older woman who appeared to have a friendly disposition. 

“Hello, I’m Annie. Mr. Shelby’s housekeeper. I apologize for walking in on you. Must have slipped Mr. Shelby’s mind when he left for work this morning.”

“What! He’s gone? What time is it?” Rose asked, looking for a clock.

“It’s ten in the morning, dear. Would you like me to fix you some coffee or tea?” Annie asked sweetly. 

Rose was about to get up but realized she was still naked. She could not believe she overslept or that Tommy left without any sense of ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later.’

“No, thank you. I…if you don’t mind, need to take a shower. Then I will be on my way.”

Annie nodded her head and left Rose alone in the guest bedroom. With the door shut, Rose tossed the covers off of her and grabbed her to-go bag. She pulled out her toiletries, some underwear, socks, a bra, along with jeans and a t-shirt. She also hauled out her running shoes and tossed them on the floor. 

For a guest bedroom, the bathroom was huge with a standing tub and walk-in shower. If Rose didn’t have somewhere else to be, she would have opted for a bubble bath. Looking at herself in the mirror, Rose traced every bruise, love bite, and red marks that were plastered over her body. 

“He always leaves his mark,” Rose said to herself. She turned on the shower and stepped inside.

The hot water helped ease the soreness Rose was feeling all throughout her body. She lightly washed away any dried fluids that were left on her. Rose more than noticed the soreness between her legs, which would take a while to subside.

When Rose was finished showering, she dried herself and put on her clothes. She did one more look around to make sure she had everything, sent off a quick text to Louis letting him know she was okay and headed downstairs.

Annie warmly greeted her, “I hung up your dress by the door. It is inside the garment cover. I put your shoes in there as well.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate that very much. Uh, when did Mr. Shelby leave this morning?”

“The same time he always does, about six o’clock,” the housekeeper answered. “He told me to let you sleep in, but I was unaware of which room you would be in.”

“Yeah, yeah, look, I have to get going,” said Rose and retrieved the garment bag. She slung her to-go back over her shoulder and walked outside the townhouse.

Before Rose could head down the street towards the Tube, an unknown voice called out to get her attention.

“Ms. Turner,” said the voice.

Rose turned around to see a young black man leaning next to a car. She had seen him around previously outside of her house or place of work. Rose suspected this was one of Tommy’s guys he ordered to look after her. 

“Yes. What do you want?” she asked, not moving.

“Mr. Shelby told me that you would need a ride back home. I’m Isaiah Jesus,” he said, extending his hand out. When he noticed that Rose’s hands were full, he offered to take her garment bag.

“Thank you. I guess you won’t need directions to my house since I have seen you around,” she said, walking to the car. 

Isaiah opened the trunk and put in Rose’s belongings, and ushered to the backseat door, but Rose cut in, saying, “Do you mind if I sit in the front seat?”

“Not a problem, mam,” replied Isaiah with a smile and opened the passenger door for Rose.

The ride back home was quiet except for the sound of music coming from the car stereo. To cut the quietness, Rose decided to speak up. “How long have you worked for Tommy?”

“For a long time,” Isaiah answered.

“How old are you?”

Isaiah laughed, “I’m 21, mam.”

“Okay, you’re sweet, but knock it off with the whole ‘mam’ thing. Call me Rose, okay.”

“As you wish, Rose. My family, well, my father to be exact, has known the Shelby’s a long time. My father’s family immigrated from the Caribbean to England. He met Tommy, Arthur, and John while serving during the War in Afghanistan back in 2006,” Isaiah shared and went on, “It was not the time to be over there, that is for sure. The arrival of the British soldiers in the southern province of Helmand was met with violence from the reviving Taliban. The Afghanis made sure to let our soldiers know that they were not welcomed over there. My dad, his name is Jeremiah, did not come back the same after that, neither did Tommy or his brothers.”

Rose could not believe this young man was telling her all of this, such revealing information. It all started making more sense to her with Tommy’s behavior. He had all of the signs of someone living with post-traumatic stress. And then top it off with his wife, the person he most likely felt comfortable and vulnerable around, diagnosed unexpectedly with cancers, and then dying. No wonder Tommy was the way he was.

“Wait, your dad is Jeremiah Jesus?”

“Yeah,” Isaiah responded, looking over at Rose.

“I have seen him on the news lately. He leads many of the Black Lives Matter demonstrations,” noted Rose.

Isaiah beamed with pride, “That would be him. He’s amazing. Definitely the type of voice and leader we need right now.”

“Yeah, my son has become more socially active at school and around our community. It is a good thing. I want him to be aware of his privileges and use them for good causes,” Rose responded fondly. 

When Isaiah pulled into Rose’s neighborhood, he parked the car in front of her house. Both got out of the car, and Isaiah helped retrieve Rose’s belongings from the trunk. 

“Thank you, Isaiah, for driving me home. It was nice not having to take the Tube.”

“No problem, Rose. It is my job, after all. I have to get back to London, but someone will be around to look over your house. Have a nice rest of your day,” said Isaiah and tipped his hat to Rose, and retreated back to the car.

Rose walked up to the front door to unlock it and went inside her home. In the car, Isaiah pulled out his phone to call Tommy. By the second ring, Tommy picked it up. “She home?” he asked.

“Yes, Tommy, she is just walked in her house right now,” replied Isaiah, looking over at the house. 

“Okay, good. Once Darren shows up, you can leave,” Tommy instructed Isaiah.

Hanging up the phone, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath. When he let it out, he sat back down at his desk. Truth be told, Tommy did feel bad leaving Rose to wake up alone that morning. But he had to get to work. He knew she needed the rest from the previous night. Tommy did not know why, but when he was with Rose, he became a different person. It was as if he felt freer. More relaxed. More willing to pursue his darker desires than he ever had before. The way Tommy was with Rose, he was never like that with Lizzie. 

He was not quite sure what made the two women different. Lizzie, he noticed she would never push back, never quite challenge him. With Rose, he could see there was a fire in her. Tommy especially noticed it last night when she turned the tables on him during his line of questioning. For a second, she caught him off guard but managed to recover quickly. Rose was also more open to his sexual fantasies, whereas Lizzie was never that hardcore. Yes, he and Lizzie would experiment with role-playing or bondage, but it was never to the level he had with Rose. 

There was something about Rose that Tommy could not quite put his finger on. While he knew most everything about the woman, he still felt that he didn’t “know her.” That feeling bothered him. He was a man who liked to know everything about everyone and anything. Rose’s son was a factor that he did not know much about. 

According to information Tommy gathered, Louis was sixteen years old and attended public school. His birthday was July 3, 2003. He currently was in his 11th year at school, with next year being he would enter as a lower 6th. While his grades were decent, he was active with after-school sports like football or basketball. All in all, Tommy needed to determine if Rose’s son was a liability. He needed to meet the kid himself to determine if that was a fact.

Once Rose settled down at home, she opened her laptop and looked through her work email. Rose’s boss, Linda, wouldn’t be in the office today. She had to take her husband to a doctor’s appointment. So Rose knew she could get away with not physically being in the office that morning. However, Rose did not foresee herself oversleeping and missing much of the day’s work. She emailed Linda, letting her know that she was not feeling well that morning. Thankfully, Linda believed Rose and told her to rest up. 

What caught Rose off guard was when Linda mentioned how beautiful she looked last night. 

‘What the fuck,’ Rose said to herself, confused. She reached for her phone and saw the mass of text messages from friends and even her mother, Pam. All wrote how gorgeous she looked at the gala and congratulated her on “bagging” Tommy Shelby. The text from her mother stood out amongst the rest. Pam said she wanted to see Rose and Louis and planned to make a London trip sometime soon. Nothing indicating if Rose’s dad, Geoffrey, would join Pam on the trip. While Rose’s relationship with her mother was somewhat cordial, her relationship with her father was practically non-existent. Geoffrey more than let it be known that he wanted nothing to do with his daughter or grandson. It was one of the big reasons why Rose left Blackpool.

Against Rose’s better judgment, she googled Tommy Shelby. Low and behold, there was an array of articles about him with the mystery woman from last night’s gala, with pictures to boot. A part of her knew this would happen but didn’t quite expect this much attention from her friends, boss, or mother. Thankfully, news in England never lasted longer than 24 hours. Soon, a new shiny toy would be dangled in the face of the nation, and Rose would, literally, be yesterday’s news. She only had about a couple more hours to wait until more important and titillating news came along. 

With a slam of his fist to the desk, Luca Changretta was more than upset. He was angry once he caught sight of the pictures. Luca thought Alfie Solomons was lying when he said that Tommy Shelby had taken something from the Italian mobster. The Jewish gangster never quite stated what it was that Tommy had taken.

“Trust me, mate. You will find out soon enough, eh,” Alfie told Luca over the phone a while back. 

“You better not be fucking with me, Solomons. I know you enjoy playing games with Tommy, but I am no fool,” Luca sneered into the phone.

Alfie just laughed, “I’m not fucking with you. No, I wouldn’t do that to ya. I think our boy Tommy needs a reminder of his place, don’t you think. The lad has gotten a bit too big for his britches. Good ol’ Tom thinks he can take anything he wants with no consequences.”

“Again, Solomons, why should I care what Tommy Shelby does?”

“Well, come Thursday morning, be sure to check the London news. Then you will see. Be sure to call me when you do,” Alfie instructed and hung up the phone.

Luca’s first instinct was to brush Alfie off. The man was always playing tricks. However, there was a part of Luca that was intrigued to find out what Alfie was talking about. The pictures of Tommy with Rose infuriated Luca so much that all he saw was red. Blood red. Blood that needed to be spilled. 

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: tiny hints of Non-Freezerburn content 

So this is the very beginning of when this story begins to drift from being focused on Freezerburn goodness (it really goes off the rails later). I know some of you don't like to see the ships change mid fanfic so I figured I would give you a heads up. Don't worry, Yang and Weiss are still endgame and there will be plenty of those two throughout, but there's going to be a lot of fuckery happening over the next couple dozen chapters. Bear with me!

=Chapter 34

After watching Cinder enjoy the attentions of two young ladies a bit more than she probably ought to have, Kali quietly herded the rest of them from the room. Pyrrha offered to stay, despite Weiss' repeated attempts to help usher her to the exit; seemed she really didn't mind indulging Cinder just this once. Emerald offered to give her friend a ride back on her bike once they were through so everything was taken care of.

Once walking back to the car, Kali patted Ilia on the shoulder. “I'm proud of you, little one.”

“What? M-me? Why?”

“You came in, stood your ground, and reminded the rest of us that one of our own was suffering. We tried to help, but hadn't tried our hardest yet. It was important.”

Ilia was still smiling from the compliments when Blake cleared her throat and added, “Y-yeah. That was pretty cool of you.”

The next smile was a completely different kind. Weiss nudged Yang with her elbow as they split off from the others to get on her motorcycle.

“She really has it bad, doesn't she?”

“Oh yeah,” Yang chortled as she started it up. Weiss swung onto the seat behind her, sliding her arms around Yang's middle gratefully. “One too many bottles of Love Potion Number 9. She’s been head over heels for Belladonna as long as we've known her.”

“Right… do you think she’ll ever get past thinking of her as ‘the new girl’ and see her as just a girl? Because I think she's kind of sweet in her own way. But maybe she's just not Blake's type.”

Yang glanced over her shoulder at her as she began to guide the bike toward the exit of the parking lot. “Really? And if you're so smart, little miss teacher's pet, what is Blake's type?”

“Tall blondes who lead biker gangs, apparently.”

That insinuation nearly made her guide the bike into the shrubbery instead. “Hey! Not funny.”

“Well, it’s-” Weiss had been about to insist that it was the truth, but then she remembered it was a truth she wasn’t supposed to divulge! And she had come so close to spilling the beans! “It's, um, a little funny, right?”

“NO! You almost gave me a heart attack! Come on, Blake being sweet on me? That would be a disaster!”

She knew her own laughter sounded forced, but at least she had managed to laugh. After following the Belladonna car for a few blocks, she asked, “Not that I'm disagreeing with you, but I'm curious. Why would that be such a disaster? I mean, Blake is a beautiful girl.”

A scoffing noise came from the gangster in front of her on the bike. “She's just… like a sister to me, you know? It would be like dating Ruby, which I definitely don't want to do either. But I'm not denying she's cute. Just don't feel those kind of feelings for her.” Once they got to a stop sign, she chanced a grin over her shoulder. “Not what I feel for you, Princess.”

Though she still wanted to continue the conversation about Blake, feeling bad that Yang felt no attraction to her, the comment filled her stomach with so many butterflies that she couldn't seem to focus on it anymore.

Soon enough, they were parking in the driveway and disembarking their various vehicles. Ilia stretched and Kali let out weary sigh as they walked up to the front door. Yang reached down and took Weiss's hand, and she gladly squeezed back.

The sight of Willow Schnee sobbing on the couch brought their mood down a couple of points. However, upon seeing the group entering, she looked up and flashed them a bleary smile.

“O-oh! You're back much s-sooner than I expected! How was your visit with your friend?”

“Fine, Mother,” Weiss began carefully as the rest of them filed in. “She's being taken care of now. What's wrong? Are you okay?”

The woman waved a regal hand, dismissing the concern. “No worse than when you left, don't worry. Raven… was kind enough to offer to make me a cup of coffee to settle my nerves. Though she has been gone for some time.”

Weiss, Kali, and Yang went through into the dining room, then into the kitchen. There they found a clearly frazzled Raven Branwen standing in front of the counter, where coffee grounds and water were strewn everywhere — including all over herself.

“Oh.” Her eyes shifted back and forth. “I can explain this.”

Kali chuckled. “You were trying to play host in an unfamiliar home?”

“How do you work this stupid espresso machine? You pretentious ass.” Her pale cheeks were the very tiniest bit rosy; it wasn’t much of a blush, but still far worse than Weiss ever remembered seeing in Yang’s mother’s expression.

“Here,” she sighed, nipping up a washcloth to help clean it up. But Raven stiffened, so she put her hands on her hips. “Do you want my help or not?”

Raven relented, and Weiss and Yang stood back and watched in mild fascination as Kali helped her clean the counter off somewhat, then moved on to preparing coffee together. It was like seeing a ballerina dancing alongside a rhinoceros. Several times, they glanced at each other in sheer disbelief before returning to the spectacle.

“That was… special,” Yang muttered once they had finally excused themselves.

“Agreed. I’ve never seen her like that.”

That brought a slightly shy smile to the bruiser’s lips. “I have. But… yeah, not real often, or in front of other people.” She shrugged. “Maybe she likes your mom.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She barely knows her!”

“So? You barely know me.”

“You… make a compelling point,” Weiss conceded as they returned to the living room, Yang chuckling and slinging an arm around her neck.

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

Within half an hour, Raven came back with the coffee. There had been a couple of shouts, but nothing prolonged or sharp enough to truly worry anyone. Mrs. Schnee gracefully accepted the cup and they all chatted for a while. In a way, it almost seemed like they were paired off: Willow and Raven, Ilia and Blake, Weiss and Yang. Kali was the odd woman out, but didn’t look at all uncomfortable simply playing host.

“Wouldn’t that be weird?” Weiss asked when they were poking around in Blake’s room a little later. Yang looked right at home, but she was completely captivated by the unfamiliar surroundings. Stunned that she was going to live here for a while… possibly a long while.

“Wouldn’t what be weird?”

Shrugging, she sat on the bed. “If our mothers were dating. I mean, that would make us sisters.”

“So?” Yang giggled. “I was sniffing around your skirt first; I get dibs.”

“Stop that,” she laughed, swatting her shoulder. “I mean it. Do you want to be sleeping with your stepsister? Aren’t our lives crazy enough already?”

Yang walked over and straddled Weiss’s lap, hands sliding into her hair as her thumbs traced their way up and down her girlfriend’s temples. “Sounds hot.”

“Ohhhh… wait, what are you doing?”

“Enjoying myself?” Her nose nuzzled into Weiss’s ear. “Didn’t think it had been so long since we fooled around that you forgot what it was like.”

Dipping her head away from the nose and the lips moving down to her neck, she sighed shakily. “Hey, hey! We’re in Blake’s room!”

“So what? She’ll understand. I mean, we gotta take it where we can get it.”

“No, you…” How could she explain this to her? She couldn’t - not without betraying Blake’s trust. “I just… don’t think she would… not on her bed.”

Yang drew back, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why? Is there something wrong with this bed?”

“No, it’s-”

“Bedbugs? Rusty springs?”

“Yang…” The lips pulled her earlobe in, and she had to push her away to head off a pronounced moan. “Listen to me!”

That finally got her attention. The bruiser finally sat completely back, frowning at her girlfriend. “Hey. What’s shaking? You’re being kinda weird.”

She didn’t have to tell her the whole story. But she at least deserved part of the truth. “I’m not comfortable doing this in Blake’s room. If you want to go out to the back yard and neck for a little while, then that’s peachy, but… I don’t know. I can’t get in the mood in here.”

“What’s so special about a room? I wasn’t going to get her sheets dirty or anything.” But seeing that Weiss was serious, she leaned down and gave her a sweeter, less heated kiss. “Sorry. We can put it on ice.”

“Good. Because I fully intend to go back to the icebox for it later.”

“Good,” she agreed with a wicked little grin before their lips found each other’s again. Even that was a bit odd for Weiss to be doing in the room of the girl who was still crushing on her girlfriend… but all relationships require some amount of compromise.

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

Weiss felt awkward about sleeping in Blake’s bed. Though Blake had insisted, and taken the couch, it still didn’t feel right; she was only supposed to be crashing there for a short time. Kali's large queen-sized bed was big enough to accommodate both their mothers with ease, but Blake’s smaller twin was not; technically, yes, but comfortably, no.

She was so discomfited that she couldn’t stand it anymore. Sometime after midnight, she began to creep downstairs, hoping to check on her. She only got halfway down the staircase before she began to hear…

Crying.

��Shoot,’ she thought harshly to herself as she frowned, trying to decide if she could make it back upstairs without being noticed. It wasn’t terribly likely. Besides, even though she wanted to give Blake her privacy, she wanted to help her friend even more. Or at least offer help; if she told her to go the hell away, that would be that.

“Blake?”

Instantly, the raven-haired girl sat bolt upright, eyes wide with true fear as she stared at Weiss. It faded quickly, leaving her looking broken and tired.

“Weiss… go the hell away.”

Message received. “O-okay. I’m sorry.”

“Wait…” Sighing, she covered her eyes with her hand. “No, I should be the one apologising. I’ll go, I’ll… I want a drink of water.”

When Blake stood to make her way to the kitchen, Weiss moved the rest of the way into the living room as quick as she could. “Please don’t go. I can get it for you.”

“Why would you?”

“Because… because I feel bad for interrupting. Please, just let me? I won’t take two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

She let her take care of the task. Weiss came back with two small glasses of milk. Blake raised an eyebrow. “What are these for?”

“Milk helps you sleep.”

“That’s warm milk, isn’t it?” But when Weiss’s smile slipped a little, she took her glass quickly. “I-it’s fine. Thanks.”

“Mm.” They both took a few sips as Weiss sat next to her on the couch. The air seemed to ratchet up with tension. So long had passed since they had a simple, civil conversation that she almost had forgotten what that was like. Eventually, just when she felt she might have to make an excuse and just go back upstairs, Blake spoke up.

“Sorry I’ve been so weird.”

“It’s alright.”

“No… no, it’s not. I’ve been stupid, and jealous, and… and taking out stuff with our moms on you. Still being weird about Yang. And that’s gonna stop right here, tonight.” Her amber eyes turned up to look at Weiss, a little uncertainty in them. “Not totally, I mean… I’m still a girl, I can’t help my girlish heart. But I’ll work on it.”

Smiling and nudging her with her forearm, Weiss said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s really alright. Um…”

“Yeah?”

“This is none of my business. But I think you and Ilia would be really cute together.”

It took Blake a few seconds of staring off into the corner before she came up with an answer. “You’re right. That’s none of your business.” Seeing Weiss deflate prompted her to nudge right back. “But I get that you think you’re helping. Just… cut it out, that’s all.”

“Got it.” After a second, she sighed and said, “Are you really alright on this couch? I honestly thought it would be me down here. Doesn’t seem very comfortable, and we are invading your hou-”

“You know my mom would never let me hear the end of it if I made you sleep on the couch, sister.”

“Then let’s share the bed. Please, I mean it, I just do not feel comfortable up there by myself - it’s not my room, it’s yours, and I can’t… I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. That’s unacceptable!”

Blake appeared caught off her guard, openly staring at her guest. However, a little twinkle of amusement was sparking in her amber eyes behind the surprise. “You want to sleep with me?”

“If you’re going to phrase it like that, then no,” she scoffed, prompting a little chuckle from the other Dragon. “Otherwise… I mean, you know I’m pretty tiny.”

“Not that tiny. But alright - you’re on, Schnee. We could try it.”

After finishing off their milk, the two made their way upstairs and wriggled into the bed. It was more than a little uncomfortable at first. They wound up facing away from each other, trying not to think about rear ends and toes touching; it helped that Weiss was in fuzzy pyjamas, adding an extra layer of separation.

“Hey…”

Weiss rolled onto her back. “What?” But Blake only curled around her side. “E-excuse me! What is the meaning of-”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly.

“What for? We already covered this topic downstairs.”

“Still feel like a horse’s ass. You’ve actually been a real cool cat since Yang started making eyes at you, and I just… wanted to hate you. Tried not to, but it would have been easier if I could. And I… and w-with our parents… why am I so stupid?!”

“Again, we covered this,” she told her again, but her voice was more gentle as she pet gently along her back. “I could have tried harder to understand that this wasn’t easy for you. And… I feel like I should have figured out that was part of the problem a lot sooner. So don’t-”

Blake squeezed a little tighter, and Weiss could do nothing but wrap her arms around her a little more tightly. They stayed like that for a few minutes before she could feel Blake begin to shake from the force of her own sobs, in spite of how desperately she was trying to suppress any noise escaping. It broke her heart. Why did life have to be so hard sometimes?

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

“You thought you could get away…”

The fire was coming. Weiss was trying to throw off the chains as quickly as she could before it caught up to her, clawing them from around her ankles and wrists, but she couldn’t grip them firmly enough. What was the matter with her? The stupid puffy ballgown was definitely not helping matters, it kept getting tangled and snagging on the bed of nails below.

“You’re mine,” her father snarled - except he wasn’t her father. He was a dragon, large and sprawling and covered in gleaming white scales, red eyes blazing down at her as he clawed his way across the craggy landscape. “MINE!”

“No!” she cried, even though no sound was coming out. A silent scream as she tried desperately to escape. He was going to catch her, drag her back to his hoard of treasure!

Then the claws were closing around her, pushing chains into her skin, closing the trap…

When Weiss’s eyes flew open, for just an instant, she still believed it had all been real. The sweat soaking through the neckline of her pj’s told her that her subconscious mind had believed it as well. What a horrible nightmare. Obviously she had a lot on her mind lately, but did her brain have to put her through it when she was asleep? That should have been her time to escape from the strife.

Then she realised why she felt so chained.

“Yang,” Blake was mumbling in her sleep as she clung even tighter to Weiss’s body than she had before slumbering, practically on top of her now. That was about the saddest thing she had ever witnessed. Poor thing had it bad.

Maybe… she should step aside? No. That was stupid. Weiss knew without any further reflection that she and Yang loved each other. Even if she wished she could do something for Blake, that would not be possible without making an even bigger sacrifice - and one that would solve nothing, since Yang did not have those feelings for Blake. But there had to be something she could do!

Then she felt hips shifting against one of her thighs, grinding slightly. That wasn’t the ‘something’ she had in mind.

‘Oh golly,’ she thought in alarm, going stock still. ‘So she’s having THAT kind of dream. What do I do?!’ The movements didn’t stop, presumably because Yang wasn’t stopping in the raven-haired Dragon’s mindscape. If she woke Blake up, she would be horribly embarrassed if she ever found out later… but if she didn’t wake her up…

Another little moan told her she couldn’t leave it at this. Weiss tried to shake her shoulder. “Blake?” No response, just more squirming - and her cheeks flared with heat, her heart beating faster. “Blake! Gee whiz!”

Finally, those amber orbs popped open in the darkened room. They swivelled around a few times before training on Weiss, completely caught off her guard seeing her there.

“Huh?”

“You were, um….”

“Schnee, what are you doing here? What's-” She moved a little, and her words cut off. Even in the low lighting, she could see her face draining of colour. “What… was I...?”

Even though she felt a little mean about saying so, she couldn’t help teasing a teensy bit. “Your dream self clearly thought I was some other gal. Unless… you still want to make me ‘see stars’?”

“Shut up. This isn't… I'll move so we can-” But when she tried to move, it prompted a shiver and a moan that cut off all further speech.

“Wow. You're really ready to go.”

Holding completely still, Blake hissed urgently, “It's not what it looks like! You know I would never do this to any girl while she's asleep, right? Please tell me you know at least that much!”

“I do,” she laughed, her own cheeks rosy by now. “I could tell you were having some really steamy peep show dream. And… and that's why I woke you up.”

“Ugh… couldn't you have just let me finish? Now I'm all pent up and frustrated.” Her hips moved a little again, and she whimpered.

“If I let you finish while you were asleep, then I would feel like the one taking advantage! But for what it's worth, I'm sorry!”

After a few more idle thrusts, Blake sighed and forced her hips to still. “No… no, you're right. I'm just… never mind.”

But Weiss decided she'd had enough of pussyfooting around this topic. “Just wish it was Yang sleeping over instead of me?” When amber eyes turned to her, guilty as they were fearful, she hastened to add, “I'm not upset. Believe me, I understand just how attractive Yang is. Maybe if you were trying to get her to two-time me, I'd be getting territorial, but… I don't know. You're a good friend to both of us, and you can't help having eyes for her.”

“How… can you not be angry?” she breathed in sheer surprise. “Or at least yelling at me to… to get over it? Yang is going steady with you now, and I have no right-”

“Hey, you have every right to feelings. It's what you do with them that counts.” Her hand reached down to give the Belladonna behind a little tap. “And this was involuntary, so don't think I'm holding it against you.”

For a moment, Blake just tried her best to weather the sensations and take in the words from her temporary roommate. Then she smirked. “Y-yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm the one holding 'it’ against you.”

“SHHHH!” Though they both giggled. “Um… yeah, I don't know what to say. You can keep going if you… really need it? It feels like-”

“No, no, I can stop.” She rolled onto her back, panting as if she had just run a mile. “Wowie zowie…”

For a few seconds, the two teenagers lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of their crazy situation. A lot had transpired in a very short amount of time. Really, in only a few short weeks, Weiss had gone from oblivious little princess of Atlas Heights to a bonafide gangster, dating a girl and standing up to a tyrannical father she had never thought would force her and her mother out of their own home. And Blake…

Well, Blake had lost her shot at Yang. Knowing just how great Yang was made it impossible to pretend that wasn't an awful blow.

“Damn.”

“What?” Weiss whispered.

“I… I can't go back to sleep.” Her eyes looked even guiltier when her head turned to look at her. “Maybe if I… move to the couch?”

Weiss bit her lip. “Or I could make a trip to the bathroom. And while I'm gone… you could, um, take care of whatever needs taking care of?”

“Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that! And then you'll come back in and the room will stink like me. No, I'll… I'll get over it. Don't worry.”

“But you're so keyed up! Just let me let you do this. I don't care how the room smells,” she added as an afterthought.

“But it'll be…” Seeming to rethink her words, she turned away. “Besides, the last thing I want is to wake up my mom with this. So if either of us get up… forget it. I'll just wait until I take a bath in the morning.”

Scoffing, she reached over to nudge Blake with her elbow. “You just said you can't sleep. I'll be really quiet on my way out, I promise.”

Now she looked truly conflicted. Even moreso than before. Why? Was Kali that light of a sleeper? A glance over showed her that Blake's legs were constantly squirming, though in a way that kept her from moving the bed too much. She looked miserable, and humiliated besides. Even while she was looking, she could swear she saw her eyes misting over, though in the low light from the window it was hard to tell.

“Hey,” she breathed softly, hand coming to rest on her forearm. “I can be quiet as a mouse. It's no trouble; I have to go a little, anyway.” That was an exaggeration; she did, but it would be easy to ignore until the following morning.

“How can you be so nice to me when I've been such a bitter… shrew?” she demanded, her voice soaked with emotion. “I even… I even thought…”

When she didn't finish, Weiss eventually gripped her forearm a bit tighter. “You even thought what? It's alright, I'm not going to kick you out of your own bedroom. I promise. You can say anything that's on your mind.”

“I even…” The tears were falling now, and she reached up to brush them from Blake's cheek. “When y-you were in the hospital, I really thought for one second that it might be better if you didn't make it, and everything could go back to normal! How stupid! I don't w-want you to die, not really, and even if you did, things won't go back to normal anyway! Why do I have to be so… s-so awful?!”

Weiss rolled over to hug Blake tightly, and felt her return the embrace as they clung to each other, only the latter sobbing. Though a cold feeling settled into the pit of her stomach from the sentiment, the knowledge that at any point Blake had wished death upon her, it didn't make much of a dent in her gratitude that she was opening up - no longer keeping her at arm's length. If they were ever going to truly be friends, they would have to evolve past petty jealousies one way or another.

“You're so sweet!” she finally growled into her shoulder when she could speak again. “God damn you for being so sweet, I can’t stand it!”

“Shhhh,” she soothed her as best she could, not really experienced with this sort of thing but trying her best. “I’m not, really. I feel like I should have said something earlier, but I didn’t really know how to - and it was easier just to ask Yang to talk to you instead of getting involved mysel…”

A little too late, she realised what she had said. Blake pulled back to blink down at her, halfway between puzzled and still remorseful about the whole situation. But then she nodded. “It’s okay. I know I was a terrible brat about it when it happened, but I do appreciate you trying to do the right thing, and get us talking again. Even if I had a funny way of showing it.”

“Yeah. Like I said, it's not easy with you still being hung up on Yang. For us to be pals, I mean.”

“It’s not just that. I mean, you’re right, Yang’s the one I… well, you already know. But it would be a lot easier if my rival weren't such a bleeding heart. I mean, Yang and Cinder? I'd be clawing her eyes out!” They both chuckled, and Blake relaxed against her. Apparently, the more heavy subject matter had dissipated much of her arousal. “Too bad the one who rode in on a horse and swept Yang off her feet was actually a tiny white knight, and a sweetheart.”

Smirking, she murmured, “Pretty sure that happened the other way around. I was a lamb to the slaughter.”

“Hey, careful; you’re still talking about the woman that holds my heart.” She rolled over to face the other way. Weiss almost didn’t catch the next words over her own weary sigh: “One of them, anyway.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Goodnight, Weiss.”

“Goodnight.”

However, it took quite some time for Weiss to drift off after that. She wound up eventually taking a trip to the bathroom, after all - and was very cautious when returning to the bedroom, but Blake was fast asleep this time. Completely content. It made for a nice change.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Earth 5620 - Chapter 1

Summary: When fractures start appearing across the world, S.W.O.R.D. and S.H.I.E.L.D. work together to create a team of...specialists. It’ll take them coming together to stop two dimensions from colliding.

Word Count: 2604 words

Warnings: Um, none that I can think of?

Marvel Kiddos

A/N: I haven’t written anything on here in a WHILE. So I hope you like it. :)

--

January 15th. Seattle. Washington

Covert. That was what they were supposed to be in this moment. Calm, cool, collected. Gathering information because this was a clusterfuck. They were waiting for higher-ups. That was their orders. Still, when she got the call, this wasn’t what she had expected.

A split between dimensions.

Cracked – but who swung the hammer? Who manipulated the reality?

Boots scuffed against concrete as she reached for it. The best way to learn was to discover. That was what she always believed and now seemed just as good a time as any to practice that idea.

“Director Carter.”

Sharon sighed. Her hand dropped to her side as she turned to see who S.W.O.R.D. had sent to help. “It’s not exactly comforting when they send in their best, Captain Rambeau.”

Monica smirked. She loved being sent in. Desk work did her no good and she figured the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was the same way. “What is it?” She gestured to the crack. No, Fracture. Definitely a Fracture. It was too big. Too noticeable to be anything else.

“Was hoping you could tell me. This area is more your specialty, don’t you think?”

Her smirk grew into a smile as Sharon gave her a knowing look. It was true. S.H.I.E.L.D. specialized in super soldiers, arrogant billionaires, and things like vibranium. Mutants too, but that was because of Sharon’s aunt. There was a special interest there for them.

S.W.O.R.D. handled the weird and freaky. Things that had no real explanation. Infinity Stones…Alternate Realitiess? Or Aliens? Powers that were more than genetics and Masters of the Mystic Arts? That was Monica’s area.

There was a mutual respect between the two. One neither woman would ever dare to overstep even if their specialties chose to intertwine.

She turned her attention back to the Fracture, circling it. However, as she reached its side, the crack vanished. “It’s two dimensional.” She glanced at Sharon who mirrored her movements.

Sure enough. It was like looking through a window.

“I’ll get my men to do some readings.” Monica was already heading back to the vehicles, knowing her men were waiting on an update. “Let’s see if there’s anything on the other side.”

Surprisingly quiet, Sharon couldn’t take her eyes off the anomaly. As interesting as “another side” sounded, she had to wonder –

Was this the only occurrence?

March 19th New Orleans. Louisiana

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

Monica’s gaze shifted from the Fracture to her newest guests. “Director Carter.” She didn’t move from her spot on the ground. The reactor in her hand was still struggling to get a reading. The last thing she needed was to mess that up. “This is only the second, remember?”

“Yeah, but I’m worried about the lack of information.”

Monica sighed. Passing off the reactor to a S.W.O.R.D. operative, she rose to her feet and walked around the Fracture. It was at least twenty feet long – more than twice the size of the one in Seattle. And she wasn’t the only one to notice. She joined Sharon’s side and only just noticed the worry on Sharon’s face. It was etched so deep in her features, as strong and unwavering as diamond. Monica understood her fear. Truly.

Things had grown considerably calmer since Thanos was destroyed. This sparked problems and no one had a clue how big they were. The questions were surpassing their answers and it was enough to make both women feel ill.

“Let my specialists work, okay? If a third pops up, we’ll talk about a POA. But right now, it could be a coincidence. We got a lot of them in this line of work.” With a gentle nudge and a friendly smile, Monica reminded her, “You know that.”

“The last time we believed something was a coincidence, we had to learn the hard way that Hydra and Weapon X were one and the same.”

Monica winced. “Okay. Bad choice of words.” Looking back, she knew they should worry. At least a little. But she didn’t want to react yet. Sharon was always ready for a fight. And while Monica was too, there had been a fair amount of peace that she wasn’t ready to let go of.

Not yet.

May 7th. Boston. Massachusetts

Darcy couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It looked as if glass was breaking. In the middle of the air. It sounded ridiculous, she knew that, but it was an accurate description. This was something she would expect from an Asgardian visit. Instead – it was hovering in the middle of the Boston Public Garden. Appearing out of nowhere.

She’d guess it was at least a mile long and half a mile wide. It was huge.

“That looks weird.”

“You could say that again.” Darcy kept up her trek across the ridiculously huge park. She looked ahead and found the guy that had spoken. He wasn’t paying attention to anyone that had run away or the officers that were attempting to evacuate the park. He was completely wrapped up in the same thing she had been staring at. She joined his side. “Doctor Darcy Lewis – astrophysicist.”

He hadn’t realized she had spoken to him until she cleared her throat. Pulled from his thoughts, he glanced down at her and nodded. “Will.”

“You’re not scared of it?” Darcy raised a brow. Did he have a death wish?

Will chuckled. He propped his glasses on top of his head and gave her his full attention. His eyes – a splattering of rainbows and crystals – were almost impossible to look at. “I’m really good with weird.”

Behind them, just entering the park, Monica and Sharon slowed their run. It seemed their realization was mutual. This wasn’t just a couple cracks, or Fractures as Monica called them, this was something big. Very big.

Unable to tear her eyes away, Monica asked Sharon, “So you remember that POA I mentioned?”

She nodded. “I got a couple ideas. A few phone calls we can make.”

May 12th. Afghanistan. South Asia

He should be lifting spirits right now, being a leader.That was all that was on his mind. Hope was key – especially with the men and women. Their chance to go home had been prolonged for another five months. Five months with no contact for his soldiers. No way of reaching their families.

It was so much to ask of them. And instead of trying to give them hope, he was here. Why? He spared a glance across the room, recognizing the other guy. He was lower rank, but a specialist. His name – Benjamin couldn’t bring himself to remember it.

“You’re Master Sergeant Rogers, right?”

Benjamin couldn’t hide his surprise. There was no way. But as surprised as he was, he was also impressed. “Yeah. And you shouldn’t be talking.”

The specialist chuckled, shoulders shaking. “Our parents fought together.”

“How did you know? No one else – “

“Everyone knows. We just don’t say it.”

Benjamin huffed, nostrils flaring. He looked away only for a moment before remembering, “You’re Clint’s and Nat’s kid. Jensen, right?” He nodded and Ben shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry. About her – your mom, I mean.”

Jensen scoffed. “Look, we don’t have to get into that. I was just pointing out that we’re Superkids. That’s probably why we’re here.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Jensen, who had no interest in acknowledging the tension, simply stayed put. But Ben found himself counting the seconds, the minutes.

It took ten of them. Ten minutes of uncomfortable tension before the door finally opened.

The two stood, backs tense and hands poised, ready to salute whoever walked through those doors.

They hadn’t expected to see James Woo, FBI agent and overall awkward individual. He nodded, offering a curt smile as he said, “Hi.”

Ben and Jensen shared a look, hands already mid salute when Jimmy shook his hands.

“Don’t do that. Seriously. I’m here with a friend and we…Well, we need your help.”

Furrowed brows and confusion hung in the air. It seemed a million questions silently morphed over their features before they saw Jimmy’s friend enter behind him.

Ben smiled, recognizing her from many a training session. “Captain Rambeau.”

“Master Sergeant Rogers.” She smiled. “It’s been a while.”

“Just a decade or so.”

The two shared a laugh, easing a bit of the tension in the room. And while that was great for them, it left one person still in the dark. Jensen shifted from one foot to the other, raising a hand as if he had to be called on. “Look, reunions are great and all, but can I bring up the elephant in the room? Why’re you here?” He pointed to himself and Ben. “And why’re we?”

Monica huffed. “About that…”

Queens. New York

Flying through the air, an excited laugh tumbled from her lips. She landed on the fire escape with ease and released the webbing. Sparing one quick glance, fingers curled around her window and she crawled inside.

It fell shut behind her. With a sharp exhale, the mask was tugged off and her massive curls freed. Lena checked her appearance for a quick moment. Flipping her hair and nudging it with her fingers, she was satisfied enough. Next came removing the Spidersuit, replacing it with comfy, pink joggers and keeping the sports bra.

She was home. Extra effort didn’t have to be made in her attire.

“Lena!”

She squeaked, jumping a foot in the air when she heard her father’s voice. Normally, it was Lena’s mom shouting for her to do the dishes or some other boring chore. Her dad didn’t yell. He didn’t like yelling. Grabbing her phone, she was quick to leave her room only to find herself particularly confused when she saw her dad wasn’t alone.

Well, at least the yelling made sense now.

“Dad?”

Peter looked up. That goofy smile of his, the one she had known all of her life, was staring right back at her. But it was different. Proud? Maybe that was the word? Not surprising. He was always proud of her. “Hey, how was school?”

“It was good.” Her eyes drifted back to the blonde. She was edgy in a weird sort of way. While Lena had grown up hearing how rough and tough her mom was, this woman was different. She redefined the meaning of the word. “Who’s this?”

“This is Sharon Carter. She’s the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Hey, Miss Parker.” Sharon offered a smile. It was enough to melt the edges away. She softened, but Lena didn’t buy it. It was too much. As if Sharon was trying to relate to her.

“Yeah, cool. What’s this about? I have homework.”

Peter leaned against the counter. “Since when do you care about homework?”

Lena pouted. Okay, that was fair. But she found herself taking a quick step back when Sharon walked around the dining table.  It was weird. She should trust her. Her dad did. But their histories in the Superworld were different. And this wasn’t a face she recognized.

“Is this you?”

Lena’s gaze shifted from Sharon’s face to the clip on her phone. It was her in her Spidersuit, swinging in and out of those random cracks that had appeared in the MoMa in Queens and the Brooklyn Museum. According to the news, a couple more had popped up in New Jersey and California. She shrugged. “Um…yeah. No one had closed them off yet.”

Sharon’s face morphed into that of amusement. She zoomed out on the clip, showing the warnings and Agents that were securing the area or had just finished.

A blush tinted Lena’s cheeks as she looked from parent to agent and back again. “Am I in trouble?”

Sharon shook her head as Peter grinned from ear to ear. “Far from it actually. If it’s okay with you, I’d really appreciate your help.”

May 20th. S.W.O.R.D. Headquarters

Terrance’s fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel. He really didn’t like this idea. He didn’t trust it. “Look I know Dad wanted us to help out Sharon ‘cause she’s family, but we don’t know anything about these guys.”

“Sure we do.” Sasha’s small smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t like it either. She definitely didn’t trust it. “We’ve known Sharon since Dad and Papa adopted us. And neither of them would send us anywhere they didn’t think was safe.”

Terrance parked the car, getting out as Sasha followed suit. “I’m just saying, there are a lot of other big-name heroes they could be calling. This isn’t our territory.”

“And I couldn’t agree more, but I did my research. S.W.O.R.D. helped take down Weapon X and Hydra. They played a big part in bringing our parents back. We can do this.” She looked at Terrance. “But I’m not going in if you aren’t.”

He looked at the massive building, having to crane his neck. It was huge. Gaudy. Too much for people who were supposed to be blending in to do good. “They just want our abilities, Sash.”

“Maybe. But what if they need us?”

His distaste shifted to a plain, old grimace that he had given his sister one too many times. “I hate when you do that.”

She laughed. “And I love it.”

The two stepped inside the building. It was too bright. Too clean. Neither of them liked it, but they had grown used to this being “normal” for these types of organizations. You must look good to do your job. At least that was what these groups shoved down their throats.

“Maggie!” Sasha immediately brightened at the sight of her old friend making her way towards them.

“Hey, guys.” Smile unwavering, Maggie tackled the two in a hug. It made Sasha soften, but Terrance was still tense. Some things never change. “Guessing it was Uncle Bucky that talked you into this?”

“More Dad actually,” Terrance told her.

Though surprised, Maggie appreciated that Sam had managed to do this. “Well, I’m just glad to see two familiar faces,” she admitted. “C’mon. I was just heading towards Monica’s office.”

--

The screaming could be heard far before they actually reached the door. Terrance grimaced, already looking at Sasha as if she owed him for getting him here. Who could have caused such a huge fight when they weren’t even there yet?

And hearing so many voices, he had to wonder – how many people had they asked for help?

“Um, I think we’re in here.” Maggie grabbed the door. With a sharp tug, she held it open for them and gave them a peak of the chaos inside.

Overlapping voices, overwhelmingly loud. A girl in a green Spidersuit hung from the ceiling with no intension of coming down. A blonde guy, super tall and screaming “Captain America” vibes was currently holding back a smaller, brunet.

That was the guy doing most of the shouting. And it wasn’t to everyone. No. It was to one guy. He was arrogant, smirking because he clearly held the power. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t feel the need to. Instead, he shrugged and waved to the newest additions in the room.

One guy currently being shielded by two familiar faces. Monica and Sharon. They were desperately trying to calm down the screaming guy.

And then there was the last one – standing by the door. He looked over his shoulder, nodding to Terrance, Sasha, and Maggie. “Glad you could join us.”

Terrance shook his head, his elbow hitting Sasha’s rib. She hissed, rubbing her side as she muttered, “Ow.”

He gave her the look. That look that every sibling gave when they truly meant what they said next. “You owe me.”

--

Tag list is open? If you want? Lol

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH30

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 4,362

- Author Note:it is almost new year everyone, happy advance new year :) and oh Happy tete day! <3

Previous | Next

Chapter 30

The ride to BigHit felt awfully long and draggy. Not to mention, to be seated in the moving vehicle in between Yoongi and Jungkook were making her broke into cold sweat. It brought the memory of her and Yoongi intimate moment few days ago. Seul could not get over the fact that they got carried away and be that close. To be frank, she didn’t regret the moment that she had with Yoongi. It was supposed to be a mistake knowing her position in this complicated relationship, she couldn’t just lie to Jimin and Jungkook and go behind their back.

They agreed to have a fair fight. Would it be fair for Jungkook and Jimin if she continued to lie on their face about his hyung and her intimacy? Another thing about this incident, Seul had not make her mind just yet in regard to which man that she loved the most.

Yes, call her a bitch. Seul admitted she’s being a bitch and a little greedy.

Not that she wanted to prolong this and toyed their heart. The thought of surrendering your heart to that one person scared her to death. What if she made a wrong choice? Jungkook, Yoongi and Jimin had showed how much they cherished her in their own way.

To break it down one by one, Seul could tell how they were loving her differently.

With Yoongi, it is called infatuated love. Lust and desire lead to infatuation along with an unspeakable intense emotion. However, this infatuated love that she had with Yoongi was a healthy one. Some may think, infatuation can scar you, infatuation only seeks for control not love and infatuation is not love. It was different with Yoongi.

The fear of falling for someone dangerous like Min Yoongi, blinded her for quite some time. If this relationship that they had was a mere fantasy, and temporary, how was it possible to feel the intimacy physically and emotionally? Speaking of infatuation, people set a clear line between reality and fantasy. It was clearly being said that infatuation was not a real love. It only tried to disguise those fake belief with love.

Don’t you realize if you don’t fantasize something, the desire to make the things yours won’t exist. In her case, if Seul choose not to fantasize Yoongi, this thing with him won’t happen. Luckily for her, she did fantasize to be in loved with Yoongi. What stops her then?

Infatuated love can be overpowering and intense. Seul could feel the intensity with him around. The looks from his eyes, those sinful mouth who used to utter the most sinful things and the tenderness in his touch lashes out the scar in her heart, overpowering her every single time. 

Hence, her feelings for Yoongi, could it be love?

Now, this passion she had with him involve love and commitment, could she call it fatuous love instead?

 Jeon Jungkook, that not so innocent honey bunny who never fail to amaze her. Who never fail to render her speechless. Who seem to have so much power over her with a single look. How can a man be so powerful, sexy and at the same time to appear deliciously innocent? Jungkook, that one man she tried to avoid yet it failed her. He is irresistible.

If with Yoongi is infatuated love, then she could say it is a romantic love with Jungkook. There were an obvious intimacy and passion between them, though their level of intimacy were brief teases here and there, it never went beyond kisses.

“Romantic love can generate many powerful feelings. It can provide a profound ecstasy, and a deep suffering when frustrated. To some people, romantic love is irrational. Romantic love can seem like an emotional storm. (Conner) ”

She never mistaken Jungkook’s flirt as a way for him to persuade her into his bed. However, she could tell Jungkook was as sexually frustrated as her. She felt like a total bitch for having such fantasy for the young man when obviously she, out of people should know the boundary. So far, she was doing good in refraining herself from giving false signal towards Jungkook.

Seul was being cautious in everything that she does.

Oddly, she enjoyed having these weird butterfly feelings in the stomach whenever with Jungkook. Not weird, just it was special thing that she had with Jungkook. She couldn’t compare Jungkook and Yoongi, the way how these men approach her were different. It gave her an immense feeling of frustration and confusion.

Frankly speaking, her relationship with Jungkook started off normal like those normal people out there. They cultivated them by building it on a solid foundation of trust. Being playful and having fun together, a loving and conscious relationship started to emerge. The passion in this relationship was evident, and it was unavoidable.

Could Jungkook and Seul consciously moving toward a long-term relationship with the sense of commitment together?

 Jimin. A small guy with big heart. His heart is an ocean that’s inside a bigger ocean. It had grown bigger and bigger over times and became more ferocious and bold. He used to be extremely shy around her, yet little did she know he became one of the earliest person to confess his feelings.  

It would be a lie if her feeling was never swooned because of his charming side and his gentleness. Everything is perfect when it comes to Park Jimin. The number of flaws that she could find in him thinning with every moment they spent together. He’s not aggressive and more compassionate in showing his love.

Seul called it a companionate love.

Companionate love develops slowly with the presence of intimacy and commitment. There is not much passion that Seul experienced with Jimin as his confession was too abrupt and happened at the most unexpected time. It gave her no time to process her feelings for Jimin whether it was only an affection towards a friend or more.

It was more like a reliable relationship that was a little bland. Could it be Seul whom was a little comfortable with Jimin around? Did she fell the same though? As much as she hated to admit this, if they rekindle the fire and bring back the passion between them, at this rate anything is possible.

That adorable mochi, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind. At one point of time, she longed for his gregarious presence beside her. She didn’t want to assume this feeling as love in case she only saw him as someone dependable and trustworthy which was worth to be called as friend.

Would it be too early to set this fine line between her and Jimin?

 Jin. Kim Seokjin. It was hard to ignore the obvious. Jin had been behaving oddly intimate and too comfortable with her these days. Seul thought it was his natural oppa instinct to be friendly, lively and approachable to everyone. Now, she was doubting him. Was this thing with Jin can be consider as a friendship? Pure friendship or there was something lying beneath it.

Seul must not reconsider Jin in this. It would be bad if she involves Jin in her already messy mind and distorted thinking.

What’s Jin to her?

What’s her to Jin?

She was so lost in her thoughts, when she heard a distant voice calling her, finally dragging her out from her peace. “Seul-ah, did you call me?” Jin pushed his round glasses back to its place. Flustering at his question, she stared at him blankly “No..I said nothing...” this freaked her out. Was it a telepathic thingy? How could he hear the things in her head? Scary world.

“Really? I swear I heard my name being called… “he pursed his lips and turned his head back to the empty street. Seul expelled a sigh of relief when Jin had stopped questioning her further.

Jungkook noticed her strange demeanour and slipped off his arm around her shoulder looking extremely concerned, “Are you okay? You seem a little jumpy” a low murmur could be heard near her left ears which tickled her.

“I am okay. Just a little tired” she leaned back in his arms, seeking for comfort and warmth. Seul was not good in dealing with her own feelings now, she felt the need to have a long bath to clear her mind. Yoongi was already fast asleep beside her, like how easy for that man to nap in any condition.

“Take a short nap. I will wake you up when we reach our destination” his voice was soothing making Seul wanted to fall asleep right away. Nodding briefly, she settled down in Jungkook’s arm, letting herself melted into his embrace and closed her eyes.

Jeon Jungkook smelled so good and feel so warm like usual.

 -----------------

Thirty minutes journey felt like forever. The heavy traffic was not helping at all. Seul managed to have a short nap thanks to Jungkook and pulled herself together before she embarrassed herself with her sleepy face.

Their manager parked the silver vehicle on the other side of the building to avoid the fans. Knowing they brought Seul together, it was wise to be extra careful even though there’s nothing to be worried off.  Several people greeted them on their way to the break room. There were a few people gathered in the room as they entered, and it seemed like they were facing the culprit who sat at the centre of the room with his head hung low.

Seul followed the rest of the members greeted the staffs which she didn’t really recognize. There were few familiar faces like the boys’ personal managers, and camera director who went to Las Vegas with them. She was not that friendly with them, so she stood there awkwardly waiting for the truth to unfold by its own.

“He admitted being the cause of all this?” Namjoon went to Sejin’s side holding his gaze on the guy. The guy sat silently, sealing his mouth shut without lifting his head up. He was too afraid to meet any of the angry eyes in this room.

“Yeah, he claimed that he was the one who trashed the practice room and the studios. Nothing came from him except his name, age and occupation” one of the staffs spoke with a stern voice. Seul tilted her head to the culprit, scrutinizing his feature with a heavy heartbeat. Everything about the guy was familiar to her, she wondered if they ever met each other before.

She wanted to take a brief look of his face, but he had been adamant in keeping his head down. That was strange. Yoongi’s voice boomed not long after. “Why the fuck did you do that?” his voice was gruff, and his brows drawn together into a frown.

The guilty guy flinched in his seat upon sensing Yoongi’s anger “I…am sorry…I was forced to do this” he murmured softly but enough to draw Seul’s interest towards him. It was not just his appearance, but his voice sounded like someone she knew. It couldn’t be him right. Impossible.

She shrugged the possibility out from her thoughts and tore her gaze to Yoongi. His jaws tightened as his fist curled up into a ball. God knows how much she hated violence. She hoped this man could hold back his anger and not to cause any scene.

“Sorry won’t change a thing. You broke into our place and erased my work. Who do you think you are?” he snarled angrily.

The guy fell into silence and he looked vulnerable in his seat. Her heart ached in pain watching him fidgeting uncomfortably there probably accepting the fact he would be punish severely after this. It was the mistake that he committed, and it wouldn’t change the fact that this might ruin his life forever.

Annoyed, Yoongi moved forwards grabbing his collar harshly, forcing the guy to look at him “LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING, DOUCHEBAG!” glistening with the tears, the guy lifted his head slowly, staring at Yoongi helplessly.

“Hands off Yoongi. Don’t use your fist” Jin warned.

The image of that young man in Yoongi’s hold shocked Seul. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Wasn’t that his little brother Hoon in front of her?

What in the world is happening to Hoon.

Why was he in that seat and admitted to a crime that appeared impossible for him to commit?

What was his motive?

“Hoon-ah….” Seul squeezed the word out from her mouth garnering everyone’s attention towards her included Hoon. The young man trembled at the mere sight of his sister and bursting into tears right away. He was agitated and frightened to what he might face making its hard for him to control the emotion inside.  

“Nuna..help me” he pleaded in desperation.

Sejin looked baffled as he inquired “Do you know him Seul-ah?” confused, Yoongi released the guy from his grip. “He is my brother” with that she hurriedly went to Hoon, pulling the poor boy into a tight embrace startling everyone in the room. “Hoon, what the hell is happening? Why are you here?” the younger guy buried his face in her shoulder, shaking in fear.

“Brother? He is your brother?” said Hoseok in bafflement.

“This is so messed up” light murmurs flied echoed across the room, expressing their concern and confusion. After learning the news about the culprit identity, they failed to brain the information and make sense out of this.

How on earth Hoon ended up in this state?

“Ji Hoon, tell me right now. What is this all about? Is it true you are the one who behind this?”

Hoon pulled away, keeping his head low just like before, sighing heavily “Nuna..I didn’t mean to- Yes, I did it. I was forced by someone from the competition” he confessed. All eyes were on Hoon as he finally said something more than just a desperate sorry.

“What kind of competition? Hoon, is there something that I don’t know? Something that you have been keeping away from me. Spill it out one by one” she said firmly with a deep frown.

“I..got into a survival show. Produce 101” he tugged the hem of his shirt nervously, anticipating Seul’s reaction. He screwed up big time for not being opened to his mom and sister about his dream to become an idol.

Just like he expected, Seul eyes flew open upon hearing the revelation of Hoon joining a survival show. Not that she ever heard about the show before since her knowledge about entertainment and idols were not that impressive.

“Produce 101? You are one of the contestants?” Jin looked just as shock and it was evident on his face. Hoon bit his lower lips and nodded weakly.

“Survival show? Do you need to kill someone in order to survive? Like Hunger Games?” she started to hyperventilate. For a moment Hoon just stared at his sister, looking rather perplexed.

“Yah no! It is not that kind of show! It is a survival show to be an idol” he explained calmly.

“What? Wait..Idol? How can mom and I have no idea about you joining that show? I don’t even know you are into singing or dancing or worse becoming an idol! What else are you hiding from us? Gosh, you are full of surprises” words coming out from Seul moved faster than a loaded machine gun.

Cringing at her pitchy voice, Hoon rubbed the back of his neck “I am sorry nuna. I wanted to tell you and mother about this. But, it is still new, and I am not sure if I will be able to survive until the end. I am thinking to reveal it to you until-“ Seul snapped before he could finish his sentence.

“Until you become the winner or until you’re eliminated from the show?” she snorted sarcastically. Her temper was so fierce she had to clench her hands to keep them by her sides and not around his throat. The boys looked amused to witness her temper, it was no joke.  

Namjoon mumbled lowly “Let the boy finish his story Seul. Control your mouth” he shot the girl a meaningful look shutting Seul mouth instantly. She let out a small grunt while rolling her eyes as she signalled her brother to continue.

Hoon took a deep breath, gathering his strength to scan faces in the room “I wanted to prove it to you and mother that I really wanted this. Until it happens I plan to keep it away from both of you. I am sorry” Seul massaged her aching temple.

“I am sure you are not working alone. Who is your partner? How is it possible for you to have access to this building when it is fully secured?” Jimin questioned softly.

Hoon was numb with shock, too frightened to answer, and he took a moment to organize his thoughts and words. They patiently waited for the younger guy to speak and when he did it once again left them in pure shock.

“It is one of the hyungs from the show. He’s an underground rapper and used to be in the same team as Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung” their consciences were alarmed as they exchanged confused glances.

The dark-brown haired rapper groaned in disapproval, looking at Hoon intensely “Who is he? Someone that we know?” he grew impatient.

“His real name is Ki Jun, and he called himself ‘Sly KN’ back then. He told me he knew both of you especially Yoongi hyung. That.. he has an unfinished business with you” Yoongi scoffed, groaning under his harsh breathing.

“Ki Jun. How can I forget him? Now he has resurfaced again. How ironic.” a flash of memories came knocking into his mind. It had been years since the incident, yet it remained fresh in his memories. The thing that Ki Jun did towards him was unforgiveable and unforgettable.

Namjoon gasped in horror knowing exactly who’s the infamous Ki Jun.

Ki Jun was the same person who stole Yoongi song and made money from it. He was the nastiest human on planet who betrayed his friend for money and fame. To make it sounded even horrible, Ki Jun pinned the blame on Namjoon and made Yoongi turned his back on him. Those times were hard for both of them. They didn’t trust each other. They let Ki Jun words got them and in the end, it ruined their friendship.

Realizing Ki Jun was toxic did not happen right way. They had plenty of arguments and betrayals to finally realize Ki Jun was the cause of the misery. Yoongi remembered the last time he met that bastard.

 The man with frenzy hair threw 100 won coins at Yoongi and smug “That is your share. You deserve that at least Min Yoongi. Plus, the songs that you produced are not that good. Barely made money out from it”

 Seul tilted her head confusedly trying to patch all the info together. It sounded to her this man, Ki Jun and Yoongi had a bad past together. “Hoon-ah, this Ki Jun guy, out of all people in the competition, why he made you do it?” she emitted another long sigh.

His face darkened and his boisterous voice dropped to a mutter “He found out about mother working for BTS…and…he..made me do it” Seul furrowed her brows as she scrutinized his features in hope to find some answers.

Then it dawned on her, his brother was bullied by this Ki Jun dude.

“Ji Hoon, what did he do to you?” Hoon averted his gaze and swallowed, like he was scared to say something as if his life depended on it. “I am asking you one more time. What the hell did this Ki Jun do to you?” she raised her voice forcing herself to sound as nice as she could. She knew it better. Seul couldn’t hold her frustration and anger any longer.

The air inside the room suddenly seemed stifling as everyone’s attention now was on the siblings. No one even dared to get in between them. The truth of what was happening about to be unravelled. It was a matter of time until Hoon decided to open up about everything.

“He…” he turned his back confusing everyone, and carefully Hoon lifted his shirt to reveal the visible burn marks on his skin. There was a loud gasp from the floor. They couldn’t fathom the image in front of them, it looked horrible and painful.

“Hoon-ah…What..why..” Seul gulped the heavy lump in her throat, as her fingers trembled slightly. Yoongi jaws clenched, and the dark gleam seemed to come into his eyes. Bastard, he grunted angrily in his head.

Seul covered her mouth with her hand to control the sound of crying. She felt like she had been a horrible sister to Hoon. Why was she not aware of Hoon’s sufferings? She could have done something about it if and only she showed extra compassion and love for him.

Hoon sobbed, tears rolling down his puffy cheeks, breaking her heart because she badly wanted to wipe them away and embrace her brother tight. “I am sorry Hoon.. I am sorry for being so ignorant. I should have paid more attention on you” she pulled younger boy into a tight embrace.

“Let’s give them a moment. We have to talk” Namjoon said with a sigh, glancing up at the members and their managers. With a deep and long-drawn sigh, everyone seemed to be prepared for a lengthy talk. Everyone exited the room giving the space for the siblings to sort the unsettling issues between them.

 -------------

Seul managed to clear the misunderstanding and convinced them that Hoon was a victim, though she offered to pay for the damages that he made, Bang PD strictly rejected her idea. Bang PD had sent his team to deal this thing with Ki Jun personally knowing he had been abusing Hoon in the competition for his own benefit.

As if this issue was not fucked up enough, they found out one of Bangtan’s backup dancer was behind this. It answered to the questions on how Hoon got into the building without being caught by the security. Apparently, Ki Jun had a best friend who appeared to work for Big Hit as BTS backup dancers. He had been using him to get to Yoongi for so long, but his plan never worked out. Therefore, seeing the bright chances in front of him, Ki Jun used Hoon to do the nasty things for him, sacrificing the innocent boy.

However, Hoon still had to deal with this issue legally in order for them to take action against Ki Jun for good. He expressed his intention on leaving the show since he found that it only to stress him even more if he remained as one of the contestants. For the first time, Hoon and Seul had a decent talk about their life and worries.

Seul realized she had missed a lot of things about Hoon. Today’s conversation that they had taught her a lot of things about her little brother. They were closed to begin with, however they failed to make time for each other to have this heart to heart talk. Thankfully, they found their way to each other before it’s too late.

Hoon felt extremely guilty for ruining Yoongi’s works and he had been apologizing non-stop to him. There are no words to express his sorrow and regret for the pain he had caused others by his reckless actions.

“You are young. Human commits mistake. Don’t worry, it is not your fault. It is Ki Jun’s. I am sure it is harder for you” Yoongi patted his shoulder, smiling meekly.

He chewed his lower lips and bowed deeply once again “Thank you hyung. I will forever remain indebted to you..I am sorry again” the older guy smiled genuinely melting Seul’s heart. She was touched by his kindness. If she were Yoongi, she’s not sure if she could pull a smile on her face. Yoongi is truly a fallen angel.

“Lets head back, it has been a long day. I bet you need a rest” she caressed his back gently, “Wait for me in the lobby, okay?” Hoon nodded off and left the couple alone in the room. She stood back for a moment studying Yoongi.

The expression on her face turned wary as he watched her, and Yoongi opened his arm gesturing Seul to come closer. She closed the distance between them as she stepped into his outstretched arms and embraced him. Yoongi held her body firmly to his, leaving feathery kisses on her temple.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, hearing his calm heartbeat. “I know you don’t want to hear anymore sorrys, but I am sorry Yoongs for everything” she mumbled into the fabric of his shirt. Seul nestled closers as his arms tightened around her in response, as if she were a delicate treasure he didn’t want to let go.

“Let bygones be bygone. I am glad Hoon is fine. I am sorry that Ki Jun drag him along just to get to me” he sighed, his massive hands rubbing her back.

“Ki Jun is horrible. I can’t believe he did that to you. Trying to break you and Namjoon apart. And, took advantage on you. I am sorry that this happen to you Yoong..” momentarily remembering his vivid past, it pained him. A thousand of reflections reached upon his mind, it brought him right back to his past conduct. He remembered his coldness and indifferences. He sighed with disgust.

“It made me stronger. I am who I am right now because of him” he looked down at her feeling grateful to have Bangtan and Seul in his life. Something that he could be proud of after enduring the hardship and difficulties in life.

Seul whispered “I will be by your side, even you don’t want me to” that brought a wide smile on his face.

What did I do to deserve you Ji Seul. Yoongi chuckled and embraced her tighter.

  This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

[vagrantblvrd]

Hi friend! Superhero au with Jerevinwood? Ryan & Fiona are a duo & she is the driving force to get the three of these idiots together. She & Lindsay just >:3c at these three at all times. Gav & J another super(hero/villain) & Ry & Fiona are also super(h/v). They run into Gav & J & always have these flirty stand offs, Fiona is 100% done, Linds is greatly amused by all of this & helps her wife get them together but shenanigans happen & they get together anyways, much to Fiona & Lindsday's relief.

Holy shit, I love it?

Like, yessssss.

I really love the idea of Ryan as this (mostly) hapless idiot superhero? Like, sure, he’s not a heavy-hitter like Fiona is?

But he comes up with the armor/gadgets/vehicles/mini-robot army.

Literally in a way, because tiny little robots about yea high - maybe six inches tall at the most - that help him around his workshop. Little helpers who hand him tools when he asks for them and pick up pick up screws and nuts/bolts that fall behind/under the worktable.and otherwise would be lost for forever.

The leader (butler) robot that rides around on Ryan’s shoulder/hovers about and nags him beeping and the whatnot not unlike R2-D2 or some other adorable movie robot because Ryan is what experts would call a fuckin’ nerd. (Fondly, though.)

There’s this old cross between the Master Chief/Ironman-ish suit in the back o f the workshop Ryan used in his younger years? But he could never fine-tune it enough for it to be useful in prolonged fights/situations. (Put strain on his body and such doctors warned him about and he was all lol, i’m fine! until there was this situation that dragged on for too damn long and he ended up in a Convenient Coma for a bit and just.

Yeah.

So he quit that team - they cared more about what he could do with his suit than his well-being and anyway, anyway, 90% turned evil after he left, so yes.

Decided to retire after that, make a quiet living doing something suitably nerdy.techish and tinkering away in a garage workshop in the suburbs where he pretended to be some normal dude.

One day he catches a report on the news one day about this new hero that showed up who was fucking the bad guys up? Like seriously going to town on them, but obviously young and while she had some great moves she barely won the fight and anyway, anyway.

He pushes the incident out of his head because he’s retired and it’s not his business?

But then he’s in town and there’s yet another incident that he (naturally) gets caught up in because wrong place at the wrong time.

Tiny butler robot hiding in his coat pocket or tucked into his scarf and pulled up jacket collar is beeping insistently at him as some asshole goes past rampaging away, and then the super he saw on the news shows up to stop them.

Which you know, they do? But it’s...messy. (Happens with supers new to the life, more focused on stopping the supervillain they go a little overboard. Happens to all of them, just needs some training/experience to get that kind of stuff down.)

So, hey.

Ryan’s grateful for the new super saving his life and all? But they’ll figure their shit out just fine and off he toddles home.

Or would, but then butler!robot sneaks off to drop a little piece of paper - maybe even totally normal civilian guy Ryan’s business card - into the super’s pocket, or the equivalent without either of them noticing.

So you can imagine Ryan’s surprise when also totally normal civilian lady Fiona shows up at his house/business and is like, “Hey, dude.”

She stopped the supervillain but they’ve since escaped or been released on a technicality or something along those lines, and there’s nothing she can do about it?

But then that surprise!business card that’s maybe a clue/lead as to the supervillain’s identity?

So off she goes to check this guy out, expecting some classic underground lair or whatever, but it’s just a well-equipped workshop for a nerd of Ryan’s (normal civilian Ryan, because his real workshop is in a hidden sub-sub-basement with, idk, biometric security measures or something suitably impressive to access) caliber.

He is all ??? at how she got his business card, but butler!robot is being super sketch so he figures it out really fast.

Some chit-chatting goes on and it doesn’t take long for him to realize Fiona’s totally the new super? And that she’s here for something, even though he doesn’t know what?

Realizes after a while she think he’s suspicious as hell, but it’s more amusing to him than annoying and he just. Goes along with it. Plays up his borderline supervillain tendencies like whoah all this ominous sounding stuff you’d expect from a baddie pretending to be a bad guy but not putting too much effort into it?

Fiona makes up an excuse to come back to his workshop some other day. Maybe talks about commissioning him to make her a butler!robot too as a cover story or something and he’s like “Okay!” :D because this whole thing is amusing as hell, and also he likes her?

And then!

Montage sequence of dumbasses becoming friends and Ryan’s tiny robot army totally liking Fiona more than him. (They don’t, but goddamn are his reactions hilarious when they pretend they do, and also Fiona’s in on it with them. Makes all these comments and gives him looks like she’s about to steal all his tiny robot friends.)

ANYWAY.

The escaped/released supervillain strikes again and Fiona goes off to fight them, but this time she’s obviously outmatched. (Supervillain’s called in friends/invested in better/more henchpeoples.)

Ryan watches it on the news, sees Fiona go down hard and get carted off to the supervillain’s lair. Presumably going to be a public execution later, Ryan doesn’t know for sure because he turned the tv of in the middle of the asshole’s Supervillain Victory Speech(TM).

Quiet down in the secret workshop aside from the tiny robot army bustling about picking up dropped parts/cleaning up/that one endearingly slow one that’s stuck in a corner like a roomba that’s lost its way.

Butler!robot hovering over his shoulder with this worried air about it because it’s super fond of Fiona.

Ryan manages to pretend he’s not worried for a little bit longer, but it’s bullshit and his robot army knows damn well it is.

And, look.

He’s been tinkering with his old suit here and there for years, because it’s always bothered him that he couldn’t get the damn thing to work the way it’s supposed to?

Still not perfect, but might not kill him if he wears it too long now. (He’s 70-ish% sure about that.)

No time to think about that, though, because gotta save Fiona?

So he gets into the suit and packs along some new gadgets and the whatnot he wasn’t not making for Fiona (figured he could get then into her hands without her realizing who they’re from) and goes off to save the day.

Which doesn’t go exactly to plan, but neither of them die and the supervillain ends up headed to supervillain prison and then it’s like.

“Huh.”

Because Fiona totally knows it’s him - helmet of the suit got severely damage in the fight and he had to ditch it. And also she knows that he knows she’s a super. (Only an idiot wouldn’t have figured it out, which is why the supervillain still doesn’t know.)

And then, you know.

Superhero duo?

Ryan mostly does the gadget thing, but he keeps working on the suit and eventually gets to a point he’s 85-90% sure it won’t be the death of him any time soon and goes about superheroing with her.

Which is how they meet Jeremy, who’s this little idiot trying to become a major player in the supervillain world. (Because reasons?)

Also this internationally renowned thief/anti-hero in Gavin who has this Thing with Jeremy?

Works with him when he’s not gallivanting about being wanted by the likes of Interpol and all that?

Thinks Jeremy’s ridiculous - like he’s not Evil(TM) but he sure likes the idea of being a supervillain or, just. who knows with him.

Fiona is like OMG when she realizes what’s going on between the three of them?

And like. To be honest, so is Gavin because he totally figured out the whole love-triangle thing the tabloids - and even reputably news outlets - are always on about when it comes to the three of them is way off the mark. But it’s fun watching the other two fumble about figuring their shit out.)

I’m just. Fiona and Gavin having coffee and the whatnot as their normal civilian personas to gossip about their idiots and otherwise shenanigate? Thief/anti-hero Gavin being ~chased by Fiona while Ryan and Jeremy square off/flirt outrageously?

(Absolutely bet on whether or not smooches take place while they’re ”fighting” or if the whole “Oh, no, I’ve been pinned!!1!” while engaging in sexy fighting - which honestly ends with at least one (1) smooch most of the time, so it’s win-win all around.)

As to the Lindsay/Fiona side of things?

I love the idea of Lindsay as a veterinarian/back alley doctor that Jeremy and Gavin go to for help when they get hurt and don’t want to risk a hospital/whatever?

Which is how Ryan and Fiona find out about her - Jeremy and Gavin accused of some heinous crime. End up being hunted by everyone in the city and only Ryan and Fiona think they’re innocent/being framed and yes.

OR.

Lindsay’s the mayor/deputy mayor who’s the one who really does the work around the city. Meets Fiona when Lindsay’s been kidnapped/being held hostage and it’s superhero meet-cute 101?

Ryan is like, OMG because how often does this shit happen? But also, “Just hurry up and get her number, the supervillain’s getting away!”

And then!

Idiot boys figure their shit out because some baddie from Ryan’s past comes to town and due to plot reasons has this grudge against Ryan?

Which naturally means all his loved ones are in danger because of it, and this assholes goes after the ~supervillains Ryan’s obviously in love with because who else to use to make Ryan hurt more?

This whole deal where Ryan insists on putting his suit on. He’s just made improvements to it that are untested but of course he doesn’t give a damn about that because his idiot love interests!!1!

So off he goes, and he doesn’t do too badly at first? But this asshole planned for that, and manages to capture Ryan.

Whole bit where he’s forced to watch as this asshole nearly kills Jeremy and Gavin before Fiona (and some other allies they’ve made since then) show up to save the day.

Everyone leaving the three of them alone while they oversee the asshole being taken into custody and the whatnot and just.

Super awkward Confessions of Love and the whatnot and them helping one another out of the secret lair where Fiona and Lindsay and whoever else are waiting on them and just.

Yes.

ALSO.

I kind of want Fiona’s power to be super strength or fire-based because lololol?

AND.

Her and Ryan’s dynamic is totally that one where he has to hold her back all the time?

Like always down to fucking fight someone Fiona (Lindsay’s words, not his) and poor Ryan trying to keep her from punching every asshole who makes the mistake of catching her attention.

Actually picks her up and carries her off while he’s wearing his suit one day with her fighting to get out of his hold to fuck some assholes up, and everyone being !!! because what the hell???

(Ryan just. Shaking his head because those assholes have no idea how close to death they just came. Figuratively, because Fiona would really have killed them? But wow would they be hurting.)

[segersgia]

Looking back: Part 4 - Primaris Space Marines - Vanguard Infantry

When the Reiver was introduced at the beginning of 8th edition, it was only a small taste of what we were getting. The Vanguard Space Marines were revealed during the Vigilus storyline alongside a new Chaos Space Marine release. 

I remember there being a big divide upon their inclusion. For some they were way too “Tacti-cool” and didn’t really fit the Warrior Monk aesthetic of the rest of the range. Others welcomed them with open arms as they were an embodiment of what Space Marines should be in the first place.

But what are Vanguard Space Marines?

The Vanguard Astartes:

Vanguard Space Marines encompass the different Primaris Space Marine units that are trained in reconnaissance and covert missions. They usually are deployed behind enemy lines and operate as assassins or saboteurs. Most of their units wear Phobos Armour; a more light pattern of gear that allows their servos and machinery to run almost silent. This does mean that they are way less armoured, so they can’t charge willy-nilly into enemy fire. 

What makes these units interesting is the fact that they train in the arts of survival and self sufficiency. Vanguard Astartes don’t have the luxury of a swift strike. Their missions order them to be deployed for very long amounts of time without any form of backup. No orbital strikes. No supply drops. No swift extraction when things get tough. They only get what they’ve brought with them. 

Guilliman apparently liked these units so much that he adapted the Codex Astartes so that they could accommodate the Vanguard Marines into the rest of their ranks. Now, the 10th Company, instead of only being consisted of Scout Marines, counts around 100 Vanguard Space Marines, proving once again that the Codex Astartes’ “1000 men per Chapter”-limit is filled with loopholes.

This doesn’t mean that all Vanguard Marines come from the 10th Company. All Primaris Marines have, at some point in their career, trained to use the full arsenal of the Vanguard force. It may also happen that when Marines of a Reserve Company are needed to assist the Battle Companies, they will don Phobos Armour. This means you can most certainly find Vanguard Marines in any Company. 

Obviously, Chapters differ, so some might not have any Vanguard Marines at all, while some might have completely turned into a “Vanguard Chapter”. They are your army, and you can do whatever you want with them.

Let’s look at their infantry units.

Infiltrators: 

Infiltrators are the Battleline unit of the Vanguard Marines, tasked with the disruption of enemy communications and the sabotage of certain targets. To help them in their duties, they have something called Omni-Scramblers strapped to their back; devices that can intercept enemy communications and scramble their frequencies. 

When they eventually do strike a target, they do so under the volley of the Bolt Carbines and an absolutely ridiculous amount of Smoke Grenades. 

Because of their prolonged time behind enemy lines, they need someone to tend their wounds. For this, they have the Helix Adept (depicted on the right). These are Space Marines who are trained by the Chapter’s Apothecarion, yet aren’t full Apothecaries. They can only perform general Medical duties in combat and the extraction of Space Marine gene-seed.  This is necessary since the lack of outside support means that the loss of gene-seed is an even more likely scenario. 

FINALLY! Good looking helmets!!! And they resemble the helmets of their Firstborn brethren. I really wished these were the helmets that all of the Primaris would’ve gotten. I love these units just because of this alone.

I do admit that they have flaws. Their carbines are way too cluttered with scopes and their armour looks a little too plain without the smoke grenades and extra pouches. The Start Collecting box is therefore a way better kit in my opinion to get. 

But I really like a lot of what I’m seeing. The extra gear like the pouches, grenades and the Vox-Scramblers adds a lot to their design and it fits with their “self-sufficient” background. They are very well posed; with options for both a battle ready or a stationary stance. They actually hold pistols with two hands. The Helix Adept I specifically like because they still have their Narthecium, something that the new Primaris Apothecaries sadly lack. I do find it weird that you can’t have the Helix Adept outside of the Start Collecting box, being replaced by an Infiltrator with a Comms Array. Maybe we will see a Helix Adept come up in a different kit. I would welcome a kit of Vanguard Specialists and HQs. 

8/10

Eliminators

Eliminators are your classic sniper unit. Dedicated marksmen tasked with the “elimination” of high value targets. They do have a variety of roles depending in which Company they serve. When they are part of a Vanguard Force, they act as protectors of their brethren, making sure that they remain safe by eliminating targets that could endanger the rest of their force, such as enemy snipers or artillery emplacements. When they are part of a normal strike force, they are deployed as assassins, scouting ahead of the main line and murdering enemy HQ.

Eliminators wear an even more stripped down version of Phobos Armour, meaning they are even more sneakier than the rest. The Camo-Cloaks they wear are coated with something called Cameleoline (very cool name). This substance allows the fabric to take on the overal colour of their surroundings. Their main form of weapon is a Shrike Pattern Bolt Sniper Rifle, but they may also replace these with a Las-Fusil or an Instigator Bolt Carbine. Depending on their target, they can switch and choose between different forms of amunition. Finally, to help them find hiding targets, they have a variety of visors and Auspexes that allow stuff like heat-vision and the ability to see through meter-thick walls. They can perform Wall-hacks.   

These are such an ace looking unit. There is absolutely nothing bad to say about them. They blow the rest of the vanguard range out of the water. The Cameleoline Cloaks work so well and I wished that these came standard with Phobos Armour. It would certainly help stick a better identity to the Vanguard Marines. Their poses make them look very menacing and professional. What I like the most out of these is the amount of customization. They have so many different heads and weapons that makes them all very unique.

10/10

Suppressors:

Suppressors are tasked with supporting the rest of their army through the means of covering fire. They wear Omnis Armour; a pattern of armour that mixes Indomitus Armour with the boots of Gravis Armour. 

How they work is that they can leap at great speeds and jump great heights thanks to the Grav-Chutes and Jump Packs they carry on their backs. They use this to quickly and aggressively take a position over the enemy and providing covering fire. This allows them to quickly change positions on a whim and prevent the enemy of adapting to their assaults. 

Once they have a favourable position, they will engage and open fire with their Accelerator Autocannon. Their Jump Packs allow them to fire them without too many problems and the guns are capable of penetrating armoured infantry and light vehicles.

This one was seemingly a very decisive unit and I must admit that this is a guilty pleasure of mine. I really like the concept of the unit; it sounds like something the T’au would come up with. They have a very “Gundam” design and that is definitely not a bad thing. The Autocannon looks intimidating and this version of their armour is a nice mix between the different patterns. I love the design of the helmet and I don’t even have a problem with the Boot-Plates; they look way better on this unit than on the Inceptors.

I have two main problems with this unit; the Jump Pack and the pose. For one, the design of this model and the lore that describes it doesn’t justify in any way a flying stand. If this model was just posed on the ground, it would work so much better. Second, I don’t like the design of the Jump Pack, at least not for something that is supposed to fly. I would rather see the original Jump Pack on this model. 

So what this unit needs is to either stay on the ground, or be equipped with a different Jump Pack. Either or both would work.

7/10 

Incursors:

Incursors are a Primaris unit that is focused on close-quarters gun-fighting. It seems that they are a mixture between a Reiver and an Infiltrator; seemingly performing the same roles as the latter, but with a much more straightforward approach. They attack strategic enemy positions and destroy their most important assets, such as generators or communication devices. The Haywire Mines they carry help them in destroying enemy armour.

What makes them special is their war-gear. They arm themselves with Occulus Bolt Carbines and are equipped with Divinator Auspexes, both of which feed information directly into their combat visors. This technology allows them to see just about everything. They can see through walls, smoke and can work in the dark. 

But wait! There’s more. The Auspexes can predict the trajectory of incoming drop troops, and the emergence of tunneling troops like Genestealer Cults. It can spot energy signatures within the area were teleporting units will appear. It can even during combat, predict the way enemies will attack. 

Also, apparently, this is not a Vanguard unit. It is not very clear what they are, similarly to the Reiver, which is somewhat of a “Schrodingers Vanguard Marine”. It might just be the case that not every Marine in Phobos Armour is a Vanguard Marine.

I hate this unit...

I hate absolutely everything about this unit. I hate its lore. I hate its weapons, I hate its poses. I hate its dumb visor and its Auspexes. I hate everything it stands for. It is such an unnecessary unit that feels so overpowered and without any actual purpose. You would expect with a unit specialized in the neutralization of strategic assets, that it would be more focused on explosives or sapping and be geared towards that. The Haywire Mines are the only thing that would suggest such a role.

3/10

——–

That’s it. Outside of the Incursor, the Vanguard range is in my opinion a very fine addition to the range, at least when it comes to their design. Now that we are seeing Space Marines getting a new codex in October, I’m hoping that their lore becomes a little bit more streamlined. I don’t need to read three codices to figure out if Reivers are part of the Vanguard or not. 

Next up, I’m tackling the Infantry units of the Chaos Space Marines. It feels balanced to divide the overviews like this: Imperium/Chaos/Xenos. 

Afterwards, I’m tackling the new miniatures that the Drukhari got. 

‘Till next time.

previous posts: Primaris Mainline Infantry, Death Guard Infantry, Craftworld Aeldari

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment is All We Are (5.1/?)

This chapter is REALLY long so I split the text ver into 2 parts for Tumblr. 

AO3 link: here

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Story type: Romance/Drama/comedy

Pairing: Dazai x OC/reader (Dazai is endgame, fic is long-running and will also feature Kunikida x OC)

OC (Kusunoki Kyou) and Ability are based off of "The Story of Your Life," written by Ted Chiang, aka the basis of the Amy Adams movie "Arrival."

Rating: M for Blood/violence/themes of depression, anxiety, suicide TW: The second half of this story will deal more heavily with themes of suicide, depression/anxiety. *No major character death will occur*

Story follows OC as she joins the ADA, partners up with the detectives to solve various cases around Yokohama and develops feelings for Kunikida and Dazai (Dazai endgame).

Written for those who want an immersive ADA experience :)

Updates every Sunday evening around 6pm PST

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It wasn’t always like this.

Okay, maybe it was.

For as far back as I could remember, the visions had always been random, random events I would see of the future. If I was in physical contact with someone, the visions would be from their future. If I wasn’t, then the visions would be from my own life. Sometimes when I was really stressed, the visions of my future would actually come in the form of a dream, like in manga or novels.

Perhaps that was the best way to explain how The Story of Your Life worked; it was like taking out a book, keeping a finger against the pages and flipping until that finger finally caught on a single page. Then, flip open that page and read the first paragraph that jumps out; the book was the person’s life and the paragraph was the event, a single scene from that person’s future that I bore witness to.

The visions didn’t always show me death, blood and despair.

In fact, the very first vision I had was that of a puppy—a cute little thing my friend Kiko gifted me at my fifth birthday party. I must’ve seemed shockingly unsurprised (and possibly rude) to Kiko and her parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain that I’d seen her giving me this puppy half a year ago.

In retrospect, the puppy vision had been great. Sure, it took some of the fun out of a surprise gift but it was still a vision about a puppy. Honestly, if my visions were nothing more than glorified versions of baby animal videos, I’d be perfectly fine with that.

Maybe then, I wouldn’t be left with this overwhelming fear of my own Ability.

I used to be able to touch people, shake their hands, and hold them. In the beginning, “The Story of Your Life” only activated with a prolonged touch...

At first, “prolonged” meant more than ten seconds. That meant getting to play tag in kindergarten, going over to friends’ houses and having sleepovers. Normal stuff. My life didn’t even change all that much when ten seconds shrank to seven some time around middle school; I was able to play contact sports and go out on shopping trips without incident. Seven seconds became five halfway through high school. Again, no need to make lifestyle changes. I could still hold hands with friends, so long as it didn’t go on for too long and I was still able to have my first kiss without seeing even a hint of my boyfriend’s future.

And then, college. Five seconds was no longer doable. It became three at best and just before I’d become a shut-in, even an instantaneous touch was enough to trigger my Ability. By then, however, I’d gotten pretty used to having the visions, so I remained relatively unbothered when I’d see a vision of the barista breaking up with his girlfriend when I got my morning coffee. In other words, managing my Ability was no big deal.

Or so I thought.

About six months ago, my visions went from being an occasional distraction to a panic-inducing nightmare. I still wasn’t sure why...

Maybe it was just luck of the draw. I’d only seen good things, mostly, for the first ten-plus years at least: faraway cities, weddings, and graduations. Every once in a while there would be a failed exam or a lost wallet but overall nothing too out of the ordinary for an otherwise regular teenager to see.

Maybe it was just a sign of the times. As I got older, so did the people around me, so the more likely it was that they were entering that phase of their lives where things could start to go south. Or perhaps their previous lives were just catching up to them.

Or maybe, it was karma finally catching up to me. I’d be lying if I said that I’d never used my Ability for personal gain before. There were a few exams I managed to ace with the help of a well-timed touch of the hand and a few pitfalls I’d managed to avoid through a combination of sheer luck and a decently fast reflex. Perhaps six months ago, whatever granted me this power finally decided that I had a good run and it needed to end in the worst way possible...

And it all happened so quickly.

I never had much control over my visions to begin with and they never really bothered me before but suddenly, they were invading every part of my life—and with each vision I saw, the accuracy increased. My dreams became more vivid than ever; I would see things that had yet to occur and before I moved out, my college roommate would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my screams. I started passing out in the middle of class if someone so much as tapped my bare shoulder and when I came to again, it would be a minute before I remembered where I was and what I was doing. I was starting to consider seeking some kind of help until one day, I finally saw my first death.

It was horrible. I was at dinner with friends on a group date and I hit it off with one of the guys. He wanted to take me to the movies that weekend, and being relatively new to college and Yokohama in general, I agreed. Then, smiling, he’d held my hand just a millisecond too long and I saw it: him getting hit by a car while crossing the street.

I tried not to think about it too hard. Sometimes the vision were wrong. There were times when they’d been off by just a fraction of a second and because of that, I still had hope. Maybe there was a chance that things could change last minute, either by a miracle or by someone’s sheer force of will. But as time passed, my anxiety grew. He was running late and I didn’t like it. Finally, I spotted him at the intersection and, frantic, I waved him down just as the “walk” sign lit up and he started crossing the street.

That’s when it happened.

A single black vehicle, no license plate, ran a red... and ran into him.

I would remember seeing his body flying into the air for the rest of the semester.

After that, I started taking an alternate route to class, just to avoid going anywhere near the part of campus where he’d died. It wasn’t that people were whispering behind my back or accusing me of having a part of it—I just couldn’t handle the memory.

That was the first death.

The first.

It was as if some kind of floodgate had been opened. I had never seen death before that day but after...? Death became all I saw. I briefly shook hands with a foreign exchange student and immediately saw an image of a middle-aged woman lying in a hospital wing. The woman had been the student’s mother and I heard she died a week later. I could not have been responsible for the cancer that claimed her life but I spent weeks feeling guilty about it anyway. There was another incident where I accidentally, and literally, bumped into my English teacher on the way to class. I saw his brother being hit by a bus downtown. His death was announced a month later, on the morning news. When I saw it, I broke down in the middle of the cafeteria and my friend Eri had to take me home.

And it just kept happening.

I became afraid to touch people. I began wearing longer layers during the summer months and started keeping to myself. When even a brush of the hand or bumping into people on public transit could trigger a vision, I started wearing gloves. I got a lot of stares on the subway for wearing itchy winter gloves in the subtropical heat and the knitted fabric made gripping the overhead handholds difficult so I ended up changing to disposable nitrile instead. I got less stares for that but unfortunately, I eventually had to give up public transit entirely when I got squished between two tourists and had a panic attack in the middle of the car.

But giving up public transportation put me in a tough spot. My dorm was pretty far from campus and I didn’t know how to drive. If I really wanted to, I could walk but that would take far too long and make for far too many chances to see another person’s death. And I really didn’t want to ask anyone for a ride because that would just mean more questions and more explanations I wasn’t willing to give.

And yet somehow, I managed to make it work for a time, waking up early to go to class, avoiding hangouts in-between classes and running back to my dorm as soon as I got a chance. But I was still attending classes with lots of people in a crowded lecture hall and living with roommates in a dormitory building. Ultimately, the stress of trying to avoid people while also trying to keep up with increasingly difficult classes caused me to start having nightmares. They were frequent and they were bad. And I knew that these were all things that would someday happen to me: me and a friend being held hostage in an abandoned apartment building, a woman in a suit and sunglasses pointing two machine guns directly at my face, a man didn’t recognize growing steadily colder in my arms as I screamed for him not to leave me...

That following morning, I woke up sobbing—crying as if I wished I was the one who had died instead. When my roommate tried to comfort me, I jerked away out of instinct and immediately realized I’d made a mistake.

And that was it.

I couldn’t it take any more.

About a week later, I left the dorm and found myself a tiny studio apartment, one that I could still afford on my shoestring budget and more importantly, one where I could live completely alone.

Soon after, I dropped out of college and became a shut-in. In true shut-in fashion, I shunned all contact from classmates and friends in case someone came to visit and decide they needed to barge in because they couldn’t—shouldn’t—do such a thing. My apartment had become both my sanctuary and my jail. So long as nothing changed around me, none of the horrible visions would come to pass.

Thankfully, a month into my new lifestyle, the nightmares stopped.

So long as nobody came near me, I wouldn’t have to witness another death with my waking eyes...

I still remembered the night I decided to stop going to class. It was the same night I looked out the windows and saw my own reflection, touched my fingers to my face and pulled them away, confirming that it was indeed blood and not salt tears that dripped down my cheeks. I started avoiding mirrors from that day on and threw myself fully into watching anime, joining fandoms and drawing commissions, anything to distract myself from the invasive, self-destructive thoughts that grew stronger whenever I looked into a reflection of my own eyes.

Yes... Staying was the only solution. If I never stepped out of the apartment again, the world would be spared the sight of my hollow eyes and bloody tears... And I—I would be spared the curse of witnessing things I should never have seen to begin with.

***

“So you’ve been holed up in your apartment for the last six months doing...”

Kunikida frowned, tapping his pen against his chin.

“What exactly? Rent in Yokohama isn’t cheap. How have you been supporting yourself?”

“Commissions,” I explained. “I started watching a lot of anime and playing video games and fans pay good money for drawings of their favorite characters, original characters or even pictures of themselves in a stylized form.”

Summing up my Ability meant practically telling these two my entire life story, not just recalling the events of this morning, and I had to commend the detectives’ patience for sitting through what I would’ve considered a pretty long-winded explanation. Now I was even telling them how I’d stretched my budget and supplemented my allowance.

I held out my hand.

“If I could have some paper and something to write with, I could show you, if you like...?”

Dazai immediately ripped Kunikida’s notebook and pen out of his hands. Ignoring his partner’s protests, he held them out to me and, throwing his arm out to keep Kunikida from taking back his own things, sat back to watch me draw. Within seconds, a coarse outline appeared on the pages, followed by facial features: eyes, nose, hair—a minute later, I handed back Kunikida’s notebook, a quick, rudimentary pen sketch of each detective on its two open pages.

As one, they leaned in to stare at it.

“This is pretty good,” Kunikida said, looking up at me. He squinted down at the page, tracing the lines with his fingers, mumbling, “Does my hair really look like that?”

“It is... isn’t it?” Dazai agreed, rubbing his chin.

As Kunikida puzzled over the drawing, a mischievous glint appeared in Dazai’s dark eyes.

“Kusunoki-san... Have you ever considered a career as a sketch artist?”

At once, Kunikida shot him a warning look.

“Don’t even think about it, Dazai,” he growled, “Making decisions without the President’s approval—”

“I’m not making a decision, only a suggestion,” Dazai declared. “And what’s wrong with a good suggestion?”

“Dazai...”

Ignoring Kunikida entirely, he turned to me.

“Really, I don’t know how we survived like this for so long. We’re a detective agency, one of the best in the city and yet, we don’t have a sketch artist... It’s a shame, don’t you agree, Kusunoki-san? What do you think? Interested in a change of career?”

“Wait... are you asking me to join you?” I asked warily, looking from one detective to the other. “Why would you want someone like me? I can’t fight. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

“I’m asking you,” Dazai said pointedly, “if you would be interested in becoming a sketch artist. I mean, it just so happens that we are in dire need of one—(“No one said that!” Kunikida roared)—and you happen to have the exact skill set we are looking for! Not to mention you’re an Ability User... Just think of all the people you could help.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking away, “Wouldn’t someone like me be more of a burden than an asset? I can’t even control my Ability, much less use it to help people—”

“But what if you could control it?”

I froze. Having had no control of my Ability for my entire life, the possibility hadn’t even occurred to me...

“There’s a way?” I asked, looking back up just as Dazai’s grin turned into a triumphant smirk. “How?”

“I could tell you,” he drawled, his smirk growing even wider, “But it’s a closely guarded secret. You’d have to join us if you want to find out... Of course, I’d be more than happy to vouch for you if you’d like to apply—”

“Dazai—!! You—!”

Kunikida was on his feet.

“We can’t just offer a job to every stray Ability User we rescue from the Port Mafia! Atsushi was one thing but—”

“Oh my, so you’d be perfectly fine sending a nice girl like her back into the jaws of the Port Mafia? Really, I thought better of you, Kunikiiiiiida-kun—”

“That’s not what I said!”

“So you agree, we should take her in?”

Kunikida’s face was in his hands.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but it’s not our decision to make! And besides, she’s clearly been through enough, what makes you think she would agree to—”

“I’ll do it.”

Kunikida’s mouth dropped open. He looked stunned.

“You will—? Wait, no, I never said I agreed—”

“Let me apply,” I said, looking him firmly in the eyes. “I want to help people. I’ve always wanted to. Isn’t that what you do here at the Agency? Use your special Abilities to make their lives better?”

“That’s true,” Kunikida admitted, folding his arms over his chest, “But this can be a dangerous job. Especially for a non-combatant. You almost died today! Why do you want to help people so bad? In fact, let me ask you...”

His eyes flashed from behind his glasses, his expression fierce.

“Why did you go so far for a neighbor with whom you weren’t particularly close?”

I glared right back.

“I had to save her.”

“But it sounds like you already did, when you pulled her off the sidewalk—”

“That’s not good enough!” I burst out, startling Kunikida. “How could I say I saved her, truly saved her, if I knew she was going to die in a week and I did nothing to stop it?”

My hands clenched into fists.

“That doesn’t count. Saving someone means seeing it through to the end, to fully committing yourself and doing what’s right! Isn’t that what you did for me? What both of you did to bring me here today?”

Kunikida was struck dumb. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dazai got to his feet.

“I think it’s about time I take Kusunoki-san back to her apartment,” he said, making his way to the door, his long tanned trench coat swishing elegantly as he moved.

He patted Kunikida on the shoulder.

“I’ll let you think about what we should tell the President later.”

Kunikida instantly flushed an angry, embarrassed pink.

“Dazai, you—”

Ignoring his partner, Dazai called out to me.

“Kusunoki-san? I won’t be taking you back to your original apartment tonight. We’ll be going to one of the Agency’s safe houses instead. After everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Port Mafia had staked out your building and had someone ready and waiting for you at home. And if you’re wondering, Yamazaki-san is on her way to her nephew’s place in Nagano, so you won’t need to worry about her.”

“But what about my things?” I asked, “What am I gonna tell the landlord?”

“It’s already been taken care of,” Dazai replied, opening the door for me. “Shall we?”

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy Pt. 1

Christ on a bike, this took me forever to type up from the handwritten scribbles I created on honeymoon.

A/N: Here are a bunch of caveats and notes:

- I haven’t watched all of the MCU films. Hell, I haven’t seen all of the Thor films.

- I’ve never read the comics.

- Based on the above two points, I may well miss things that are obvious & canon. My bad.

- I haven’t written outside of work for yonks, so this is going to be rusty.

- I haven’t written fanfic for around 15 years, and I’ve certainly never published any. It took a lot of getting out of my own head to get to this point.

- I have no idea how I should label this according to fic conventions.

- I wrote a lot of this while drinking, so let’s assume my tenses are all over the place and I’ve typo’d everything.

- In my head, Thor is hairier and squishier than in Endgame.

- Endgame spoilers (I assume).

- This is almost 7,000 words long and almost nothing sexy happens. Stick with it, I’ll write that bit next.

- If you’re under 18 and have somehow found this, I’m obliged to tell you not to read this. That being said, I know what I got up to as a teenager, so on your head so be it.

- I know that some people don’t like Thor being insecure about his squishiness, I can understand that. This Thor, my version of Thor, is because that is how my squishy husband was when we first got together. It took time for him to become more confident in his body and accept that I’m attracted to him because of his body, not in spite of it.

- Written from a female POV because hey, write what you know. In the same vein, there will be hints of bisexuality and discussions of mental health.

*****

You were bored with walking down the desolate road. Sure, the emptiness was part of what made Norway beautiful, but as someone trying to hitch a lift, you could do with a bit more traffic. If you didn’t find accommodation soon, it would be a rough night.

You’d left Oslo that morning. Picked a direction and started walking, hitching a ride as you could. The last guy had dropped you at the clubhouse of his motorcycle club. Nobody knew of any jobs for you, so you carried on walking with your thumb out, hoping to attract a lift. The job was less important at this point, you needed somewhere to sleep - preferably not under your bivvy.

After a further half an hour, you heard a vehicle slowing down behind you. As you turned, you saw it was a lorry from the Ægir Microbrewery. That was good. You walked round to the driver’s window and found an attractive woman sticking her head out to look down at you. Beer and a hot woman. She must be driving somewhere fun.

“Where are you heading?” she asked.

“I don’t mind. Where are you going?”

“New Asgard.”

“Works for me.”

You clamber into the cab, the woman taking your backpack and putting it behind your seat.

“Thanks. I’m y/n,” you said as the lorry began to move again.

“Brunnhilde.”

“Are you an Asgardian?”

“I’m a Valkyrie.”

“Oh ok. Wow,” you paused, trying to take in this information. “If you don’t mind me asking, why the lorry? Don’t you have magic and stuff that you could use?”

“The Norwegians prefer it if we use your technology. Winged horses and aeroplanes are a bad combo. The beer is because we can’t brew enough for our king.”

Aha. Thor. Of course, you have heard of him and how he had established New Asgard in Norway. It had been an international relations minefield but Norway had ceded the land in exchange for some ‘help’.

“You’re not Norwegian,” the Valkyrie said after a while. “I can tell by the way you talk. What brought you out here, searching for a lift?”

“Ah,” you smiled. The eternal question. “I’ve been travelling around, doing odd jobs since the snap. Trying to see the world in case it just disappears one day I spent the last month working in a bar in Oslo. I left because the landlord tried it on with me. I doubt New Asgard will have any jobs for a mere mortal like me, so I’ll stay the night and try again in the morning. What currency do you use in New Asgard?”

The Valkyrie doesn’t respond immediately but you can tell she’s thinking.

“I have a job for you,” she said eventually. “Our king isn’t quite who he used to be, these last few years have been especially hard on him. I’m largely in charge of rebuilding. Until things change, one way or another. There’s a little hut by the docks you can stay in and in exchange you can clean his house and cook for him. Sound fair?”

“Sounds very fair but...why me?”

“Thor doesn’t like what he’s become, doesn’t want his people to see him this way. He only sees me because I bring him beer. But he might be more tolerant of a Midgardian. He’s always had a soft spot for your people.”

The rest of the journey takes just under an hour and you pass the sign welcoming you to New Asgard as the sun is setting.

Brunnhilde stops at the hut.

“This is it. Don’t worry about a key. Nobody locks their doors here.”

You climb down slowly with your rucksack and push open the wooden door. It’s sparse but it’s better than the alternative. You shrug off your bag and leave it next to the bed before returning to the lorry.

You’re driven up the hill to the furthest cabin. It’s a little bigger than the others but gives no hint that the occupant is royalty.

“Let me get the beer in before I introduce you,” Brunnhilde advises.

You watch her as she ferries full cases to the house and empties to the lorry. You begin to nap when she taps on the window to get your attention. You’ve never met royalty, let alone a god before. How are you supposed to act? Do you curtsey?

“I’ve brought you a visitor,” says Brunnhilde as she crosses the threshold before you.

“Are they here about the cable?” comes the reply.

“No. This is y/n. She’s going to look after your house. Cook, clean, that kind of thing,” she gestures as you step to stand next to her.

Thor is not how you imagined. He’s better. He’s soft, round, hairy. He needs a wash, you can smell him here, but he looks comfortable. Comforting.

He finally pauses his game and lets out a startled yelp when he sees you, grabbing a cushion to hide his torso before scurrying into the next room. When he returns, his face is flushed, trying to hide under his hoodie.

“Apologies,  y/n. I wasn’t expecting such beautiful company. Valkyrie, no, I don’t need help. I don’t want help. I want to be left alone.”

“Thor, she has nowhere else to go. I’ve let her stay in the hut by the docks. Let her work for a week and if you’re still sure, I’ll take her back when I next get supplies. Or, perhaps I will find my own use for her,” she winks, groping your arse slightly.

You blush a little, then a lot at the thought of having sex with a Valkyrie. Thor mumbles his assent and you hear his stomach grumble from beneath his hoodie.

“Perhaps I could start by making dinner...my...lord?”

“Thor. I’m not worthy of that title, so just call me Thor.”

Valkyrie rolls her eyes but answers for him. “Yes, dinner would be good. Please cook for all three of us, I’d like to sample some Midgardian cooking.”

No pressure, you thought to yourself as you stepped through detritus to get to the kitchen. This was not going to be easy.

The floor looked good in comparison to the state of the kitchen surfaces.

“Umm…” you said, pausing to survey the devastation. Broken glass, mouldy mugs, and who knows what else. You heard Valkyrie stand behind you.

“This is worse than last time, Thor,” she said softly. “I will order some of that pizza you love and myself and y/n will go to Tønsberg to pick up some supplies so that she stands half a chance tomorrow.”

You smiled sheepishly at the blushing god as you made your way carefully out of the cabin.

***

The next morning, you woke up early. You wanted to make a solid start on Thor’s home before he woke up in the hope that he’d see your worth and prolong your stay in New Asgard.

In the cold light of day, the cabin looked even worse than it had the night before. Valkyrie had put the food away but the cleaning supplies were in bags by the door.

It was overwhelming to look at, no wonder Thor hadn’t touched it. You knew a fellow depressive when you saw one. Cleaning your own stuff was always a chore. Cleaning other people’s was much easier - you didn’t have the shame or guilt.

You could hear Thor’s thunderous snores coming from the bedroom. That would be the last job. The most intimate room.

To stop yourself from becoming overwhelmed, you opened a cleaning app to work through the tasks. One thing at a time. You couldn’t let it get to you. This man, god, whatever. He needed help. f

Thor eventually appeared around noon, shuffling over to the fridge to grab a beer before slumping onto the settee with his games controller. It was always sad to see a person like this, you thought, as you took your tablet with a sip of water. But you knew what it was like to be that person, too.

“Good afternoon,” you smiled, placing a cup of coffee next to Thor. He mumbled his thanks, eyes not leaving the screen as you retreated to the kitchen to make him some brunch.

He seemed to approve of the stack of pancakes you’d made, drenched in syrup and topped with streaky bacon.

“ y/n, that was delicious. May I have another plate, please?” he mumbled to his chest. It was curious how he mumbled when he spoke to you. He was certainly not quiet when he spoke to his gaming friends online.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Of course, you may have more, you only have to ask.”

You assumed as king he would be used to asking for things but this king seemed shy. No, not shy. That wasn’t quite right. Anxious. A feeling you knew all too well. He was on edge, you could understand why. You’d seen the news, you knew enough of the past few years to empathise with him.

After you handed him the second plate of pancakes, the rest of the day was spent pottering around - cleaning, tidying, and handing Thor beer when you could see him getting low. Glasses of water and cups of coffee kept them company, but he preferred the beer. You’d occasionally find him shuffling into the kitchen, looking for snacks, gently reminding him to call for you when he needed something.

You washed up after dinner - 7oz Fillet steak with triple-cooked chips, homemade onion rings and a thyme-roasted tomato - and bid him goodnight. The cabin was by no means clean but it was a start.

“Thank you y/n. This is much better. I’m sorry I couldn’t, I’m sorry I let it get so bad.”

“It’s ok Thor, I understand.” You desperately wanted to hug him but that didn’t seem appropriate. “Is there anything you’d like me to do differently tomorrow?”

“I like Pop-Tarts for breakfast.”

***

Over the course of the week, you developed an easy routine. You came to know when Thor needed to be fed and watered before he knew it himself. He was eating a little better now you were cooking for him, although you had to up your portion sizes. You’d been surprised, wandering around the supermarket with the Valkyrie just how much food she’d piled in. Surely it would go out of date before you used half of it? Apparently not.

The cabin was much tidier now and it was easier to manage. You could just clean after the god rather than trying to fight with the whole house. You had time to observe him, to try to understand the powerful yet damaged man.

You’d grown to like Korg and Miek, too. They’d been a shock when you first met them, causing you to drop Thor’s coffee on the floor. Thor had laughed at the blaspheming, cursing litany you’d let out before you switched to apologies. For a split second, he’d wondered if you had such a filthy mouth in bed, before quashing that thought. You wouldn’t want him, certainly not like this.

“y/n, these are my friends, Korg and Miek,” he said once you regain your composure. “Korg, Miek - this is my friend,  y/n. She is from Midgard.”

You exchanged embarrassed pleasantries, pleased that Thor had introduced you as a friend.

After returning with enough coffee for everyone (you hadn’t thought to ask if Thor’s alien friends drank coffee) you set about mopping up the mess you made. Thor could feel himself staring at your arse as you knelt down with towels, so ripe and round and peachy. Oh Norns, what he would do to feel it in his hand.

***

While you could wrap your head around Korg and Miek, explaining from your hut via Skype to your family and friends was another matter. You were vaguely in contact but it was unsettling. For five years you had thought they were dead. You had grieved for them, let go. Having them back was too odd. Skype was as much as you could cope with. You kept your location vague-ish, for fear they would turn up and force you to face everything. There were loose assurances, lies (to yourself or to them?) that you were fine. That you would be home soon.

Home. What even was that anymore? The one person you wanted back couldn’t be brought home. They weren’t dusted, but they’d died as a result of the snap nonetheless. At least Alex had a body you could hold a funeral for. A body, ironically, turned to dust at the cremation.

C’mon brain, not now. You began listening to a meditation on Headspace, hoping to find some sleep.

***

It had been a week and you were sad at the prospect of leaving. Although, there was still the possibility that the Valkyrie would take you in.

You heard her before you saw her.

“Is this even the same place?” you heard her exclaim. You stuck your head around from the kitchen where you were making a fresh cafetière of coffee.

“Would you like some?” you asked, waving a cup.

“No, thank you. I’m off to get supplies and wondered if I was taking you with me?” She looked at Thor but he was engrossed in his game. “Thor!”

He jumped, turning towards her. “What?”

“Are you keeping y/n or not? It’s been a week.”

“Oh,” he blushed. “I’d like that very much. If she’d like to stay?”

You nodded your head as you set the coffee down next to him.

“Excellent,” he roared, standing beer in hand and pulling you into a sweaty bear hug. He’d remained covered up in front of you since that first day, but you could feel his softness and warmth. You were both rosy-cheeked when you parted.

“Forgive me,  y/n. I forgot myself,” he said looking down.

“That’s ok, I should be getting back to work,” you said, hurrying into the bedroom to gather his laundry

“Fine, but I may still want you for some work of my own,” the Valkyrie said with a wink as she turned and left the cabin.

***

That afternoon, having washed up after lunch, you realised there was nothing that needed doing. It was too early to begin preparing dinner, so you wandered over to Thor with a beer.

“I’ve done everything that’s immediately obvious, is there anything I can help you with?”

Thor studied you with his odd-coloured eyes. “Korg and Miek aren’t here, so perhaps you’d like to grab a beer and play with me?”

You failed to suppress a giggle at that last part and Thor looked mortified.

“It’s ok, I understood what you meant,” rubbing his arm in reassurance before turning to grab a drink of your own.

With your back against the cushion, your feet don’t touch the floor, so you kick off your shoes and sit cross-legged.

“I hope this is ok?” you asked, as Thor handed you a controller.

“Certainly,  y/n.”

You sit staring into those eyes, amber and aquamarine, a beguiling combination.

“What? What is it?”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” you could feel your cheeks burning as you took a large swig of your beer. “It’s just I’ve never met someone with heterochromia before.”

Thor tipped his head to the side, confusion written over his soft, hairy face. One you’d quite like to sit on if you thought about it.

“Heterochromia...your eyes are two different colours?”

“Oh, that,” he said, running a finger over his scar. “That’s a more recent addition. My sister stabbed me in the eye.”

You’re frozen. Eyes wide and beer halfway to your mouth. What can you say to that?

“A kind rabbit gave me this one,” he says, pointing to the amber one. “Before that, I wore an eyepatch, just like my father,”

You can tell by the way he says this, that his father is gone, in a pre-snap kind of way.

“So, it’s like a glass eye? Like a fake?” you asked, confused as to how a rabbit could give him a false eye. Maybe it was an alien space rabbit?

“No, no. I can see through it.”

You’re puzzled but decide against further questions. A lot of weird shit has happened over the past five years, ignorance is often easier.

“Will you show me how to play this game?”

“Certainly,” he says, taking your hands in his to explain the controls. Despite their size, they are gentle, pressing your digits into the control pad as he explains the mechanisms.

***

After a couple of hours and a couple of beers, you’re starting to get the hang of Fortnite, although you’re nowhere near as good as Thor.

“y/n, may I ask you a question?” he asked as you return from a bathroom break.

“Sure, what is it?” you say, returning to your cross-legged position.

“What is that tablet you take every day? Are you ill?”

“Aha, you’re more observant than I realised. That’s citalopram. An antidepressant. It helps me to feel less sad,” you say, explaining until you see a spark of recognition.

“I’m sorry,  y/n, was it the snap?” he asks, terrified that he is responsible for your sadness because he didn’t go for the head.

“Yes and no,” you shrugged. “I took tablets before, the snap made it worse.” You can see he doesn’t quite understand, so you take another large gulp of beer. “You know how without the beer, you feel an emptiness, an abyss? That nothing will make you happy again? Feel anything again? Or you do feel things but they’re the wrong things? Inappropriate. Like, you cry uncontrollably at something happy but you feel nothing at a friend’s funeral? Or it’s just sadness, anger, frustration. Hating yourself, hiding away, avoiding mirrors so that you can’t see the awfulness that’s you? Well, this is like the beer for me. All the bad stuff is still there but it takes the edge off enough for me to function. Proper therapy would help but there are not enough counsellors in the world to undo the damage caused by the snap, let alone the damage done before it.”

Thor is lost for words. He can’t understand how the Norns could let someone so beautiful feel so much pain. He wants to hold you, to kiss and caress away as much of your sadness as he can. But he doesn’t want to scare you or make you feel duty-bound to respond. He lays a calloused hand gently over yours, tilting your chin up with the other to meet his gaze. He can see that you’ve lost a lot but doesn’t dare to pry. It’s not his place and he doesn’t want to open those wounds.

“y/n, you are so strong and beautiful. You could’ve been a Valkyrie, I don’t know how you do it. You’re far stronger than I am.”

“Ah Thor, I appreciate the flattery, even if it’s the beer talking. I’m not stronger than you, the pain just weighs on us differently.”

“It’s not the beer, I mean it. You understood completely as though you could see inside of me. Tell me, do you think those tablets could help me?”

“I’m not sure how an Asgardian would react to our medicine,” you say with a frown. “Surely there are healers you could talk to?” The look on Thor’s face suggests that they are only really concerned with the physical rather than the mental. “There is something that might help.” His eyes brighten and there’s a hint of a smile at this. “We have a concept called self-care, it might make things seem a little better.”

“How does it work, y/n?”

“It’s about being loving and caring to yourself. Nurturing and nourishing all of yourself and accepting that you are worthy of love and care. Imagine the things you would do if someone you loved was distressed, except that person is you.”

Thor doesn’t look at all sure about this. Sure, he’s still worthy of wielding Mjölnir but that’s about it.

“Let me help, if you’re willing to try?”

Thor nodded slowly, hair falling in front of his face.

“Ok good, wait here.”

***

You go to the bathroom and began to fill the enormous tub, before rummaging through the cupboards and drawers. A bathroom this big and belonging to a king must’ve had some toiletries, you reasoned. Eventually, you found them, caked in dust. In the beginning, he must’ve still cared, or someone cared enough to bring them to him. Oakwood absolute and golden apple-scented -  a pleasant mix. You weren’t sure how much to use, so the result was a thick, foamy layer, like the head on a cappuccino or a bath in an old Hollywood movie.

“Hey Thor, come in here,” you shouted.

“It’s...a bath,” he said once he’d padded into the room.

“Yes. I find a bath with some pleasant bubbles and things helps me to relax and I always feel better after washing my hair. I thought it might help you too? You can drink your beer in the bath if you like.”

Thor stands there fiddling with his sleeves, shifting his weight from side to side.

“I’ll just go and leave you to it then,” you offered.

“No,no...I’m just not sure about this.”

“Ok, suit yourself. I’m not letting this go to waste,” you said, turning and removing your top. It was partly the beer and partly you wanted to see how he’d react. What way did he mean it when he called you beautiful?

You leave your clothes in a neat pile and climb in, hearing Thor pacing and mumbling in the background.

“Uh, naked...very naked,” he muttered, turning his back and casting his eyes to the ceiling. Of course, he’d seen naked women before, but this was different, you were different. And most importantly, he was different. He didn’t have his chiselled body anymore, didn’t know how to seduce people with this one. After a few minutes of silence, he turns to make sure you haven’t drowned. Only your head is visible above the bubbles, resting against the side of the tub, eyes shut, seemingly dead to the world. He moves towards you cautiously and when you don’t stir, he decides it might be safe. He undresses with his back to you, just to be sure, and climbs in gingerly.

You had no idea a man of his size could be so stealthy. The rising water level was the only clue that you had company. He’s facing away from you, but it’s a start.

“Thank you for joining me,” you said, running your hands across his broad, scarred shoulders. “May I wash your hair for you, please?”

He’s torn. On the one hand, he wants you to touch him and he used to love how soft his hair felt. On the other, he’s deeply ashamed of the matted mess he’s let it become. He only relents because you’ve asked politely, so he leans back until his hair is under the water.

You’re ready with a golden hairbrush when he sits up. Detangling the blonde mane is slow going, you’re constantly muttering apologies to Thor as you accidentally tug on the tightly entwined strands. He doesn’t seem to notice, and in the grand scheme of things, this probably isn’t that painful to him, you reason, but you still feel bad that you might be hurting him.

Eventually, you get to a point where you can run the brush through the length of his hair without it snagging. You empty a sizable amount of apple shampoo into your palms, massaging it slowly into his scalp, working in small, light circles, before moving down to the main body of his hair.

“Mmm,” he sighed as you brush against his neck.

“Ok, lie back, let me wash this out.”

He obeys and you continue to massage, making sure all of the shampoo is gone. You then repeat the process with his beard before moving onto the conditioner. You work this through, slowly, ensuring that everything is nourished, paying particular attention to the ends before brushing it through, just to be sure. You had no idea if this was how you were supposed to look after a beard but you figured you couldn’t make it any worse, so you worked the conditioner through his facial hair too.

“I’m going to leave this in for a bit, so no need to lie back unless you want to.”

You remembered how Thor had enjoyed your head massage, so you decided to take a punt. You moved your hands to his shoulders and started to knead the knots, His shoulders seemed to be hewn from stone but you persisted, eventually making headway.

“Oh, y/n, you are very good with your hands,” Thor purred as he relaxed more.

You raised an eyebrow but kept your smutty comment to yourself. You didn’t want to scare him off now that he was becoming more welcoming to your touch.

As you continued to work out his knots, Thor slowly sank back into you. You moved up to his neck and ears, rubbing and lightly tugging on his lobes.

He loved the way you were touching him. It had been so long since anyone had touched him with such care. He could feel himself melting back into your breasts, you were a lovely pillow indeed.

As he relaxed further into your chest, you decided to be a little bolder. Your hands slipped forward onto his chest, running your fingers through the hair and pressing lightly into the soft flesh until you reach his nipples. At first, you opt for a feather-light brush that causes Thor to gasp, before flicking and squeezing them, steadily increasing the intensity before switching to twisting them.

Thor leans even further into you, obscene, incoherent moans coming from between his plump parted lips. He can feel himself getting hard, something he’s not felt for a long time, bar the inconvenience of morning wood. His hand moves down, partly to stimulate and partly to clean. If this is going to happen, the least he can do is ensure he’s hygienic for you.

And then it happens.

A hand slides down to caress his rounded, hairy stomach. The panic is immediate. He jerks away, remembering how he looks, how he feels. That keg of lard strapped to his front. Water cascades over the floor as he fumbles to get away, grabbing clothes and towels, cursing as he goes.

It’s all such a shock, you forget to check out his arse as he scurries away.

Well, fuck, you think.

You wait until you can hear the familiar sounds of Fortnite coming from the front room.

Your clothes were sodden from Thor’s sudden exit. You hang them to dry on the rack above the tub, dry yourself and mop the floor before returning to face the god swaddled in his soft towel, feeling a lot more precarious about your future in New Asgard than you had a couple of hours ago.

“I’m sorry, Thor. I shouldn’t have done that, I went too far,” you say, standing in the doorway.

“It is I who should be apologising to you,” he said, pausing his game to turn to you. He was glad you’d reappeared but now that you were here, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted you to keep touching him like you were but he was scared he wasn’t good enough for you. How could he be?

“It’s ok, I understand that you don’t want to be touched like that.”

You were wrong but he couldn’t tell you. His heart was breaking as he looked at you, so sad, soft and ashamed, the giant towel swamping your frame.

“What happened to your clothes,  y/n?”

“They’re, um, drying,” you said, blushing. Your earlier bravado was gone and you were left trying to hide, to get away from the beautiful god in front of you.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry,” he replied, his blush matching yours. “Please help yourself to my clothes, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You shuffled awkwardly to his room, glad to escape his gaze for a few minutes. You found a clean grey hoodie and threw it on, wearing it like a dress. When you returned, Thor had started a fire and placed your clothes in front of it to dry.

He couldn't believe how delicate you looked in his hoodie, like a tiny ceramic doll he was scared to touch.

“That looks warmer,” he said as you walked past him to return the towel to the bathroom, his gaze lingering on your bare legs, imagining them wrapped around his neck as his licked you with love.

“I didn’t finish your hair,” you said, waving the brush as you came back. Thor grabbed a beanbag and flopped down in front of the settee his the controller and his beer.

“Thank you,” you smiled, relieved that some of the tension had dissipated and he was allowing you to touch him again. The conditioner was still in his hair but you figured it wouldn’t make much difference after all the crud that had been in it before. You brushed gently, working your way through the knots, pleased to see you weren’t pulling as much as earlier. Thor was content to game and drink, so you braid his hair, tying the ends into a knot. It had been a while since you’d played with someone’s hair. As you admire your handiwork, you realised Thor wasn’t engrossed in his game as you thought.

“I think you should do the same to my beard,” he said, tipping his head back to look at you.

You smiled, pleased to have a reason to continue touching him. You cupped a hand beneath his head, gently tipping it forward so he could continue his game while you braid his beard.

When you were done, he slowly padded to the bathroom. Leaning over, you could see him examining your work in the mirror. It had been so long since he’d looked, really looked at himself in the mirror. He looked away as he began to feel his cheeks burning with shame beneath their downy fuzz.

“I’m sorry it’s not very good,” you called, anxious of his reaction.

“No, no. It’s lovely. I wore my beard like this during...during my last battle,” he says, tugging at the thick braid to distract himself from the memory.

“I should probably start dinner,” you said, rising from the settee to start chopping veg.

“No, y/n. You’ve done so much today, let me order pizza. My treat.”

You watch him play with his 3310, scrolling and punching until he finds the number he wants. You’ve not seen an ancient Nokia like that for years.

“Dominos. Hey, it’s Thor again. You know, the god of thunder? Listen, buddy - could you do me the usual but with one extra, please? Any flavour, I don’t mind. Thanks.”

You’ve no idea what he’s ordered since he never asked what you fancied. Although if he’d phrased it like that, you would’ve replied that he was what you fancied.

“Why do you have such an old phone, Thor?” you asked as he handed you another drink, his other hand gently pressing the small of your back to guide you back to the settee.

“I kept breaking the new ones. I’m too rough when I touch them.”

I bet you are, you though. You’d seen him furiously mash the buttons on his controller and wondered how it would feel if he mashed your button. You shrank further into the hoodie to hide your blush.

“Oh, y/n are you cold? Here, let me,” he said, taking the fluffy throw from the armchair and tucking you underneath it.

“Perhaps you could offer some more heat?” you ventured, emboldened by the new beer and gently patting the space next to you. He acquiesced, letting his still muscular arm drop behind your head, allowing you to lean into him a little.

“You know, we have another concept that may make you feel better,” as much to his chest as to him.

“What is that?”

“Skin hunger. Science shows that people who experience the touch of another less often are less happy. Perhaps we could recreate the hug from this morning?”

“I did enjoy that,” Thor concedes, wrapping his arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides. You were right, he was hungry for this. Hungrier still to see you without any clothes on. He regretted not looking at you earlier but he’d liked what he’d felt under the bath bubbles. He looks down to see you meeting his gaze, melting before him. He inches closer to your lips.

Bang, bang, bang.

You jump away from him as the delivery driver pounds the door. Thor heaves himself up, cursing that this is the one time they’ve ever arrived so quickly.

You’re startled when Thor turns around with six boxes in his arms.

“Fucking hell, Thor! Why did you order so much?”

“The Norwegians have a party deal, five pizzas for a set price. I got an extra one for you.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that sharing one pizza with him would have sufficed. You look at the boxes and see that Thor is waiting for you to choose: Pepperoni Passion, Deluxe, Veggie Supreme, Hot & Spicy, Extravaganzza, and Mighty Meaty. Heh, Mighty Meaty. That’s Thor alright, mighty and meaty. You pick your favourite and take a slice, small dainty bites compared to Thor almost inhaling the one he’s already demolishing.

“Mind if I turn the telly on?” you ask, wanting a distraction from Thor so you don’t watch in awe at his apparently insatiable appetite. You liked seeing him enjoying his food, a little jealous that he didn’t eat the food you made him this way. You don’t want him to think you’re judging him, you’ve already upset him once today.

“Mmm,” he says through a mouthful, handing you the remote. The cross-country skiing is on. That’ll do, you thought.

“You’d be good at that,” you said nudging Thor. “Yes, you would! You’ve got big, strong legs to power you along.”

“Big,” he sighs. “I’m just big.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Everyone has bits of themselves they don’t like, Thor.”

“Even you?” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, of course,” you laugh. “The trick is to focus on the bits you do like.”

He can’t figure out why someone as beautiful as you would dislike any of your body. It looked pretty perfect from what he’d seen so far.

“And which bits do you like?”

“My favourite is my hands. I like how strong my nails grow, the shape of them. I like how useful my hands are, what I can do with them. I enjoy touching things with them, discovering pleasant textures. I think touch is my favourite of my senses.”

“I like your hands too. I like what you did with them earlier,” he says with what he hopes is a flirty smile. It’s been so long, is that even how you do it?

“Well, I only got your top half earlier, would you like a foot rub?”

“That sounds very pleasant but you haven't finished your dinner,” he says, frowning at the box you chose where over half the pizza remains.

“It’s lovely Thor, thank you. I guess I just don’t like food as much as you do. But I’ll have one more slice, for you.”

This pleases him and he returns to chewing his way through the meaty, cheesy feast.

Once you've collected what you need from the bathroom, you sit down on the rug in front of him.

“You know what they say about men with big feet,” you accidentally muse aloud as you remove his feet from his Crocs and guide them to a bowl of warm, sudsy water.

“What do they say?” a worried voice asked from above you.

“Oh! That they have...big socks.”

“Ah yes, of course,” he laughs, missing the innuendo but the obvious answer tickles him still, causing his soft stomach to wobble.

“I’m going to leave your feet to soak, give me your hand.”

He cautiously extends the one not holding a slice and you wipe away the grease and sauce with a flannel soaked in the bowl, before moving to trim his nails. You file them down and work the dirt out from underneath them.

“Other hands, please,” you say when you’re done.

“But...pizza.”

“So, use your other hand.”

“But you just cleaned it.”

“Yes, but when you’re done you can wash your hands. Honestly, Thor, you’re drunk. Not stupid,” you say with a smile as he transfers the slice to his other hand.

With both hands done, you move to his feet and dry them on the bottom of the hoodie you borrowed. His toenails get the same treatment as his fingernails before you move onto his feet. You apply a little of the oakwood perfumed oil you found and take one foot in hand. The soak has softened his skin a bit but you make a mental note to get some pumice next time you visit Tønsberg. Using your thumbs you stroke firmly, from his toes up to his ankle. You repeat this until you feel the tension begin to leave his foot. Next, you cup his heel, sliding your index finger between his toes, before moving onto the sole of his foot. You focus on the pressure points of his arches, kneading him like a cat making its bed. He’s making noises similar to the ones he made in the bath when you stroked his nipples. Another erogenous zone to remember for the future. You spend longer than you usually would on this part, relishing his sighs and moans, before moving to the other foot. By the time you’re done, he’s a blissed-out mess, unable to focus on the telly or move to grab his beer. You go to the kitchen to wash the oil from your hands and decide to fix him an indulgent drink.

You find the largest mug and make him a hot chocolate, adding a generous slug of mead because it’s been a good day, before topping it with whipped cream, marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles.

He’s managed to sit up a bit, so you hand it straight to him. He takes a sip, gasping as the mead hits him.

“I would never have thought to add mead. This drink - I like it!”

“I’m glad,” you say. “Thank you for a fun day, Thor.”

“No, thank you, y/n. The pleasure was all mine. Thank you for your patience and understanding, it’s appreciated.”

“Well, I hope I helped,” you say, moving to touch your clothes. “These are dry enough. I’ll just get changed and head home.”

You’ve barely shut Thor’s bedroom door when you hear an almighty crash of thunder directly overhead before the deafening deluge of rain hits the roof. You can’t walk home in this, you didn’t bring an umbrella.

Thor knocks on the door and sticks his head in,

“Given the weather, perhaps you’d like to stay here, y/n?” he suggests, one hand on the doorframe, the other gesturing to his modest bedroom.

You nod and leave your pile of clothes on top of his drawers, content to sleep in his hoodie You shuffle under the covers and roll into the dip in the middle where Thor usually sleeps. You push yourself to the side away from the window and wait for him. He switches off the light and climbs in on the other side without getting undressed. You go to touch him tentatively but he’s crashed out as soon as his head hits the pillow. Between his snores and the storm, it’s going to be a long night, you realised.

One thing you hadn’t bargained on was the nightmares. After the initial calm, Thor is restless, whimpering in his sleep. You want to help but you don’t know how to. You give up clinging to the edge of the mattress and let yourself roll into the dip in the middle. You hug him as best you can, rubbing his back in reassurance. He quiets slowly until he’s soundly asleep again. This happens throughout the night and each time you hold him until it passes.

***

You’re vaguely aware of dawn breaking, the cockerels crowing around New Asgard. You’re half asleep. The big spoon. A hand stroking something soft and warm. A stomach. Thor’s stomach. This is pleasant, he is as comfortable as he looks, you think, before drifting off again. It’s only when your sleepy hand brushes against Thor’s burgeoning morning wood that he startles awake with a shout, exiting the bed as swiftly as he’d left the bath the day before.

You lie there confused until you realise where you were rubbing.

Damnit.

[paracosmists]

Six Simple Tips For a Healthier Life

Are you looking for simple ways to get you from where you are now to where you need to be? Maybe you feel that you could do better than your current situation.

You're not alone. Most, if not all people have at least one of the following aims:-

To be joyful, to be healthy, to look beautiful, to be slim, to be healthy, to stay young, to succeed.

The following tips may help get you from where you are to where you want to be. They will however, be of no use until you need to change. You will need the desire to create that shift. It's of enormous help if you can imagine yourself in that better position.

After you can imagine how that better position will feel you'll find the motivation to take actions .

If you can turn off the TV and get up of the sofa it is time for;

TIP #1: START MOVING. Get up and go outside. Then walk into another corner and back. That's it. You've made a start on improving your own life. Try and walk daily or at least three times per week to start. Walk a bit further every time, but do not overdo it. If the furthest that you've been used to walking would be to your vehicle and back then you might find stiffness in your calf muscles initially. This will pass as your body becomes used to the new expectations. In addition to increasing the distance and for that reason the time that you're walking, endeavour to walk more briskly. Walking faster will, initially, make you somewhat breathless. Don't over exert yourself. Finding a little breathless will indicate that your heart is beating a little faster and that you're building your cardiovascular endurance. Your heart is a really important muscle and giving it some mild exercise is no bad thing, especially when connected to increasing your lung capacity.

TIP #2: STRETCH. You might have seen professional athletes stretching before doing or when heating up. Your stretching isn't in readiness for your entrance to the Olympic Games but,it's just as important. You need to stretch before and after your walks. Inactive individuals have tight hamstring and chest muscles due to prolonged sitting, so it should be your priority to stretch these muscles out. In addition to helping build and protect these muscles you'll also find a remarkable improvement in your posture. Long periods of sitting or childbirth or of slouching can mess up your posture and make you look old before your time.

TIP #3: IMPROVE YOUR DIET. Watch what you eat. No more fast food. What's in that stuff anyway? If you do not know what is in it why are you putting it in your mouth? Here is a little test for you. Go into a grocery store and get a ready meal. Look on the back and see the listing of components. For a start the quantity of sugar and salt in that 1 packet will likely be greater than the recommended intake for a week. Then what about that list of unpronounceable ingredients? How many of them do you understand? How many can you pronounce? I'm not a gambler but I'd bet that the longer the title, the less probable it is it will be good for you.

Eat regularly. Four or five small meals a day is significantly better for you than that one huge evening meal.

TIP #4: Eat five servings of fruit and vegetables per day. Attempt to make them organic where possible. Do try to get them unpackaged. That lettuce at the cellophane pack might seem fresh but it's probably been washed in detergent. Do wash all products, not only for any detergent but also for the elimination of any harvest spray.

Occasionally cakes can get boring, so do a bit of research and find new items to include. The health benefits of sprouting seeds is monumental. You can grow them yourself quite cheaply and have them fresh daily.

TIP#5: JOIN A GYM. With such a sizable part of the populace at risk of being diagnosed as clinically obese, it's of no surprise that health clubs are all the rage today. You should do a bit of research before you join . Bear in mind that a gym that has a fantastic reputation doesn't need to resort to aggressive advertising or create dubious offers.

So why join a gym in any respect? Because, it's where to go to burn calories and build muscle. Some might be put off by the notion of being surrounded by beautiful people and super healthy bodies. Do not worry. These people used to be where you are now and with a little discipline you may combine them in feeling good and looking great.

You're going to have to begin with a resistance training program in addition to a cardiovascular program. For the best benefit in addition to all over fitness, this is the best approach. We're not making recommendations concerning the particular routines or exercises on which you should be focusing as such will vary widely dependent on several things. Age, height, build, gender etc.. suffice to say you will need the recommendation of a recognised authority on the topic. In a fantastic gym you'll find no shortage of enthusiastic help if you need it.

TIP #6: GET A BUDDY. There may be no greater incentive to get you to the gym than knowing that someone is there waiting for you. Nobody enjoys letting down people and in this instance it's to your mutual benefit.

Start looking for a gym partner that's not too strict or too indulgent in their service. Start looking for somebody who will be supportive but firm in keeping you on track. You should also think about finding a partner who will mesh well with your personality in addition to schedule and location. It sometime helps if you're new to getting healthy, you can be a help and an inspiration to one another. Are you looking for more tips about healthy living. Visit PARACOSMISTS

3 Essentials To A Fuller and Healthier Life

Among the most frequent misgivings people have when it comes to embarking upon a healthy living program is they believe it'll be prohibitively costly to implement. Gym memberships and fitness equipment do not come cheap and a enormous number of the supplements on the market, certainly in the gym, look hugely costly. However, it isn't all bad news.

You may create some hugely significant changes to your life at no cost! In this day and age with everyone living such hectic, stressful lifestyles it's easy to overlook the basic principles of healthy living, and to focus on the latest fad diet or exercise gimmick to supply us with the quick fix that so many folks crave. So lets just have a moment to check out the 3 fundamentals to leading a healthier lifestyle, things we could implement right now without spending a dime.

There's a magical elixir that can cure all ills and is completely overlooked by most people. It's Water! For years, physicians, nutritional experts and exercise trainers have advocated that drinking eight 8 oz glasses of water every day is an absolute necessity to keep good health. Drinking more will help burn more fat by increasing lipolysis and mobilizing stored fat.

Of course there have been innumerable research into this. The University of Utah completed among the most recent. They found that those who consume the most water have higher metabolisms. In this study, subjects drank 4, 8, or 12 cups of water every day. Those who drank at least 8 cups reported greater concentration and greater energy levels, and tests revealed they were burning off more calories than the 4-cups-a-day group. As we all know, higher metabolisms lead to greater fat loss, a very important tool in any weight loss quest.

The National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey quantified where most of our calories come from and found, to their horror, the group making up the greatest proportion of our calorie intake-over 7 percent in fact-was not a food in any respect. It was soda!

These carbonated drinks contain loads and loads of sugar and empty calories (or health zapping artificial sweetners). Additionally, they can cause bloating and water retention. The bottom line here is steer clear of the fizzy drinks and unhealthy juices and stick to water in the event you possibly can. Many times fat will melt away with this one little change.

The next element to use in any healthy living program is that most natural of sleep! I can not begin to stress the importance of a great night's sleep, at least 7-8 hours if at all possible. Lack of sleep has been demonstrated to cause numerous problems, including severe mood swings, lack of memory and chronic fatigue. It has also been associated with high blood pressure, metabolism and weight problems, and depression. The essential point here is that too little sleep leaves us completely unable to work at our best. How on earth can you expect to lead a healthy life if you aren't getting enough sleep?

Now there are many tips on the best way best to get a better night's sleep and we could probably fill another few pages on the topic, nevertheless, here are only a few to get on with. Firstly, commit to creating a regular around your bedtime. Go to bed at exactly the exact same time each night and get up in the morning the exact same way. Keep your bedroom free of white noise and unnecessary distractions and try to keep the room cool and dark. Experiment with the amount of pillows etc to ensure that your bed is as comfortable as you can. Whatever it takes, get some sleep!

Last, let us take some time to CHILL OUT!! Anxiety is perhaps the biggest killer in the western world. There appears to be so much anger and pressure in our daily lives that it is little wonder we find it so tough to follow our healthy living regime. Yoga, massage, meditation, prayer, painting, composing, singing, dancing or making love. Whatever it takes for you to unwind and get some perspective on life.

These 3 principles are relatively straightforward to put into action, but when it comes to making some positive changes in your life they're only the tip of the iceberg, though you ought to aim to make them an important part of your healthy living plan. Whether you are attempting to drop weight or not they will still constitute good information and must be heeded.

The terrific news here however, is that you're not alone. Changing your life for the better could be challenging and you'll need all of the help you can get. Grab a buddy for assistance or hire a coach who will hold you accountable to what you state you desire.