#but if i also got on the leaves and dirt dealing train i could have something goin

[paranoidgemsbok]

tending to my podbins and imagining the cute table display i would have at a reptile expo :)

[motherofdogs1010]

Letters to Juliet & Romeo I (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Summary: Heartbroken and in the midst of the Great War as a nurse, Y/N L/N writes to a person she never expected to write to before... her brother's friend, Thomas Shelby... But the war's over now and it is time to face the letters...

Warnings: wartime angst, talks of wartime violence, pre-Peaky Blinder Tommy, soldier Tommy

Italics: content of the letters

A/N: Inspired by the movie 'Letters to Juliet', also there is no real timeline of when Tommy goes into the tunnels in France

January 1916, 2 Years into the Great War (WW1)

"L/N, you got a letter."

Looking up from the book she was reading, Y/N set it to the side as one of the soldiers came in, handing her a envelope that was a little dirty, had seen a little wear and tear but she recognized the hand writing on it.

She recognized his handwriting after months of writing to Tommy, Y/N remembered the first time she had written Tommy; it came after months of not hearing from her brother when he had left to France with the rest of the men in Small Heath. Y/N had made the decision to join in as a nurse with the Red Cross and maybe it was foolish, but she remembered the night before leaving on the train, when her nursing uniform was on her bed as the nerves were coursing through her that she grabbed a piece a paper and began to write.

Dear Thomas that letter began, she poured out everything about how Small Heath was, how she had signed up as a nurse and how she prayed she wouldn't find any of them in the camp hospital she was going to be. She had written how she barely had made the qualifications of being a nurse for the Red Cross with her just having turned 25 and such.

"Who keeps writing you, F/N?" one of her fellow nurses teased.

"Don't you know that's her boyfriend?" another responded.

"He's not my boyfriend", she denied, feeling a heat go through her.

"Sure he isn't."

The letters have begun as something innocent when Tommy had responded back to her first letter, she could sense the shock in his letter about her writing him but as the letters progressed, so did their relationship through their letters.

Opening the newest letter, Y/N felt a sense of anxiety in her as she remembered having had the courage to send Tommy a picture of her in her uniform; she remembered taking the picture once her training had been done, having donned the periwinkle, long-sleeve floor-length dress with the white apron that wrapped around her and went down to the ground. She had to tightly wrapped her back back into the white cap like habit.

A big red cross over the chest of her apron, she had sent the photo off with her letter and prayed that he didn't dislike it.

Reading the letter, she traced over his handwriting, feeling where he pressed hard on the paper as he wrote as she read how he found her to be beautiful in her photo.

You look even more beautiful than when I last saw you...

It made her heart clench as she saw how he wrote how he hid the photo in his service jacket from the others, that he didn't want them to see the lovely girl that kept writing him letters because he felt possessive over this same piece of heaven that was keeping him sane.

Y/N could picture Tommy in the trenches, covered in grime and dirt as he had to listen to the horrors of the wartime. She read how he longed for the war to be over, how he was fortunate enough to be with people that he knew, but he was terrified.

They're sending me to the underground soon. They want me and the others to be sappers, dig in the tunnels under No Man's Land

Y/N felt her heart drop at the prospect of Tommy going into the tunnels, having to dig with shovels under the handles broke and he would be forced to dig with his hands. She had seen some soldiers came in, having treated their hands for digging under the trenches and dealing with the explosives.

My only comfort is you, being able to bring the picture you sent me down in the ground where death might be waiting for me... the only thing that has gotten me through this damned war is you...

"Ladies, we got mass casualties coming in!" their head nurse shouted into the tent. "Look alive, ladies!"

Y/N tucked the newest letter into her pillowcase, knowing she was once again about to face the horrors of the war as she reminisced on Tommy's smile, she knew he smiled a lot.

But now, she had a feeling he didn't smile as much.

Dear Thomas,

I'm sure you're curious as to why you received a letter from B/N's litter sister. Frankly, I'm a little shocked I'm writing to you, I've not heard from my brother no matter the amount of letters I've sent.

That was how the first letter started, Tommy sometimes would re-read the letter when he couldn't sleep amongst the noises of screaming soldiers and anxiety.

"Shelby, ya girl's sent another letter", one of his fellow soldiers said as he held out a envelope.

Tommy grabbed the envelope, none of his brothers were around as he opened the letter; he remembers the shy smiles Y/N would send him when he would see her as she visited her brother, the little nose wrinkle she got when she would laugh a loud, deep belly laugh (one that he knew others called unladylike, but that he remembered fondly).

He felt the smooth texture of a photo in the letter, pulling the picture to his eyes and he felt a sense of... love come over him as he saw the picture of her in her nursing ward uniform. A small smile on her full lips, the roundness of her cheeks that only made her look younger, he could see in her eyes the nerves of everything. The cap hid her hair from view and he wondered if she had cut it short like other nurses were forced to do because of sanitation and he was curious if she still smiled.

He hoped she did because the only time he smiled was when he got her letters...

[mizusnose]

Sweet Dark

Reincarnation au,, partially inspired by @libbyfandom whose own mizu x reader reincarnation au had me in tears—thanks for writing it! Also heavily inspired by To Someone From A Warm Climate by Hozier

Summary: Mizu dealing with the aftermath of reader’s death and coming to terms with losing you, then having you again in the modern world.

“But it happened easy darling, as natural as another leg around you in the bed”

———-

Hot blood stained Mizu’s fingers, her wrists, her arms and shoulders where you laid against her. She pressed you to her chest, a child crying in her mother’s breast. A silent cry, none at all.

“Ringo! Get me my cape.” Mizu’s throat was raw, a scream that carried too long. A broken wing mid flight, a bloody landing.

Ringo hurried over, the blood soaked snow crunching beneath his feet. Mizu felt unfocused as she looked down at you, a limp thing in her arms. Something she’d had nightmares about, a dream untethered and untrue, one you’d help her come down from when she gasped awake in the middle of the night. Her sobs a broken noise.

Now, it’s not a dream—it’s real.

Mizu scoops you up, can barely feel the warmth within your chest now that most of it had been lost from the blood lost.

“No no no no no—please, no, no!”

Her front was soaked in your blood. A smell that would faster leave her nose than her own death. One Mizu would wake from, even months after she’d buried you tucked away in Kohama, against the tree line where she’d learned how to fight.

Not enough to fight for you, but a memory nenotheless.

Mizu considered herself someone who didn’t care. About herself, about the world, about anyone—and yet..

The night Ringo had to tear your cold body from Mizu was the start. She hadn’t slept. Waited instead for the sun to rise above the pines, a rustling of a bird in the distance, eyes unfocused.

The nights after that just got worse. Mizu couldn’t sleep. When she would, she’d wake up, hands carrying your frame, your head, your limp arms—and realize her embrace would be empty. A dream put to shame.

She’d went back to Kohama. Try to recenter. Try to train. Try to heal.

Yet, as she’d lay down on the soft of the dirt in the absence of the fire, she’d shiver—a desperate wracking thing. She’d shake and her legs move, seeking out warmth. A heat from somebody rather than something.

Met with coldness, a deep quiet, an empty space.

Mizu didn’t sleep much at all if she could help it. Knew she’d resent the coldness only winter brings. What it meant to lose so much warmth from the loss of you.

She never truly got over it. Even after her life was gone and she’d been born again in the world renewed. She’d never been able to swallow around the lack of it: warmth of the bed from you.

So when she did have you again, everything and every part of you, it was worse than ever losing you.

Maybe because it was the joy that came with relearning it: your shaking against her body from the cool sheets, a duvet holding no heat. She’d pull the blankets over your both. Your face pressed against her neck—the same place you’d breathed your last exhale.

“Not used to the cold?” She’d chuckle.

“Nope,” You’d say, enamored by her, her her, “From a warm climate’s why.”

“You’ll get used to it.” And she’d press her body to yours as if to say see? i told you, see? I can protect you here, see? see?

Mizu wished she could express it all. The way all her dreaming had been put to shame, an instinct that was embedded in her: the cold lake water of her heart boiled over.

She’d think: what an innate primal thing it is to be loved. To experience a bed, warmed by someone you’d lost—someone found again.

And, as if in a dream again, she’d hold you and wake in surprise to see you there: alive, hers.

hers.

———

Hozier’s lyrics = the standard. title from savannah brown’s poetry book of the same name.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xix – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,700+

masterlist

After the meeting of the High Lords, Y/N didn’t see Eris for quite some time. He was bogged down with his duties. And Y/N could only assume he was barely eating or sleeping with the amount of work he was dealing with. Her stomach sank at the idea of Eris not taking care of himself. Someone needed to make sure he was doing both of those things. 

However, Y/N’s usual schedule of breakfast, training, and library continued. 

But on this morning, Lucien came to her after training. 

“Would you like to go riding with me?” He asked as Y/N drank water. 

The Weapons Master had already exited the training grounds, leaving her exhausted and alone. Well, not really alone. For she had two of the smoke hounds as her guards and company still.

They now eyed Lucien wearily, not appreciating how close he was getting to their master's mate. 

But Y/N’s eyes beamed with the question. “Really?” 

Lucien tried not to tease her for being so excited. In actuality, he felt guilty for such a simple thing clearly bringing her such joy. If he had known that, he would’ve asked long ago. 

He studied her current state. “Yes, really. Perhaps you would like to change before doing so?”

Y/N looked down at herself. She was covered in mud and dirt. And what couldn’t be seen, but surely smelt, was the sweat she’d released from all her training. There was even a few cuts and scrapes across her hands and arms from little nicks she’d received while sparring. 

“Yes, perhaps I should clean myself up first…” Y/N mumbled as her face got hot with embarrassment. 

Half an hour later, Y/N appeared from her bedchambers freshly bathed. Her hair was still wet, but braided. And she wore a riding outfit that Lucien was sure the handmaidens had helped her pick out. 

“S-Sorry to keep you waiting,” Y/N quickly muttered, only able to look at the ground as she shut her bedchamber door behind her. 

“It wasn’t long at all,” Lucien tried to tell her. 

They hurried to the stables, which Y/N had no complaint about.

Two horses were already saddled and waiting for them when they reached the royal barn. A stableboy had both reigns in his hands. 

“What’s this?” Lucien asked, pointing to a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to one of the saddles. 

The stableboy seemed embarrassed and wouldn't look Lucien in the eye when he answered. “The High Lord demanded that Lady Y/N never go on horseback without at least two weapons on her saddle. I am just following orders, my lord.” 

Y/N smirked and stepped toward the horse that was now very obviously hers. It was a stark white gelding, covered in muscles, but held a kindness in his eyes as he greeted Y/N. 

“What’s his name?” Y/N asked the stableboy. 

“Aengus, my lady.” 

“Aengus,” Y/N muttered to the horse with a smile as she softly stroked his face. 

The stableboy cleared his throat awkwardly. “The High Lord also stated that Lady Y/N is not to leave the estate without an escort.” 

“And what am I then?” Lucien snapped. 

Y/N chuckled as she easily lifted into the saddle. “Lucien, don’t start.” Then she turned to the stableboy. “That is fine. But may they remain behind us?”

The stableboy looked relieved at having her support. “Yes, Lady Y/N. Only five will be joining you. They will meet you at the gates.” 

“And what is your name?” Y/N asked sweetly. 

“Cian, Lady Y/N.”

“Thank you, Cian. We will be seeing much more of each other now. Perhaps I can help you brush the horses after we return.” 

He smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, Lady Y/N.” 

She leaned down to stroke Aengus’ neck. “Ready for some fun?” She whispered. 

The white gelding neighed happily and stomped his feet, proving just how ready he was. 

Y/N turned to Lucien, “They will learn quickly that they need to keep up.”

And then she whistled, signaling Aengus to make his escape. The horse quickly jolted into a gallop out of the gates.

It only took Lucien a second or two to follow, but even that made him fall far behind. 

He hoped Eris didn’t hear about this little stunt, because it would be him that he reprimanded. Cauldron knew Eris would never scold Y/N for anything. Lucien couldn’t even imagine his brother so much as slightly raising his voice at his beloved mate. 

——

Y/N looked to the right to see one of their Autumn guards 50 yards or so off to the side of them. A guard was placed the same distance in all directions of them, putting her and Lucien in their perimeter of safety. If anyone sought to hurt them, they’d have to go through one of the guards before ever reaching them. 

Y/N and Lucien slowed their horses to a brisk walk. 

“How did you know I would want to go on a ride?” She asked. 

Lucien smirked. “Eris said you love horses.” 

“I said that to him once, in passing, when he was still but a stranger.” Y/N shook her head. “Yet he remembers all my words as if they hold such weight.” 

“Because they do,” Lucien countered. 

Y/N ignored him. 

“You know, if you let him get to know you more, he could remember more than just the things you say in passing…”

Y/N’s head whipped around to glare him. “Really? You of all people want to make such comments to me? You flee from your mate every chance you get.” 

“That is not fair and you know it, Y/N. I tried with Elaine more times than I can count – far before you ever joined our ranks, might I add. She wants nothing with me.” 

“And perhaps that is her right,” Y/N growled. 

Lucien cocked an eyebrow. “That wasn’t your tune when you were unaware of having your own mate…” 

Y/N halted her horse to glare into his eyes. 

And he couldn’t help but feel guilty when she did it. 

“Stay out of it, Lucien.” She grumbled before whistling, signaling Aengus into a gallop back to the Forest House. 

Their fun had been ruined, all thanks to Lucien.

The guards quickly followed after her, not bothering to make sure Lucien was with them. But he already knew they weren’t there for him anyway. 

——

Y/N cantered through the gates of the estate and up to the Forest House to find that Eris was saddling his own horse.

And there were nearly thirty sentries already mounted and waiting for their High Lord. 

Eris immediately turned when she halted Aengus just a few yards from him. 

“Where are you off to?” Y/N asked through heavy breaths. She’d pushed Aengus to his highest speed as she’d made her escape from Lucien. 

“Visiting the surrounding villages,” Eris answered. 

Then Y/N’s guards caught up. The High Lord glared at them, noting how they let his mate get away from them. It was obvious that would be discussed when Y/N was out of earshot. 

“May I come?” Y/N blurted out before she could stop herself. 

Eris blinked, evidently taken aback by her request. 

“I promise I will keep to myself,” she added quickly, as if her very presence would be a burden to him. 

Eris frowned, not at her, but at the idea that she could ever see herself as such a burden. “That will not be necessary. You may join me, if that really is your wish. Though I worry the day will bore you…” 

Y/N beamed at his admission. “Oh, I would never find it boring! I have been wanting to see the villages of Autumn. I have read so much about them!” 

Eris tilted his head. “Read?”

But before she could answer or mentally scold herself for saying too much, Lucien came galloping over to them. 

“You are supposed to stay with her,” Eris growled. 

“You try keeping up with her,” his youngest brother shot back with exasperation. “Cauldron, she rides like the wind.” 

But Y/N ignored him, acting as if he weren't even there. And of course Eris caught it.

He ignored his youngest brother as he mounted. “We must leave now to make it back before dark.” 

Lucien glanced back and forth between his brother and Y/N. “She’s going with you?” 

“Yes,” Eris answered with boredom in his tone. “And you are staying here.” 

If his mate was annoyed with his brother, then he would choose her side.

Lucien scoffed. But rode back towards the royal stables. Clearly he didn’t wish to accompany them that badly, for he didn’t even put up a fight. 

“Is this some trick?” Eris asked Y/N quietly, so no one else could hear. “Do you intend to make your escape?

Y/N smiled and leaned toward him. “Guess you will have to wait and see.” 

—

The Forest House was now just a small structure in the distance behind them. Y/N watched it get smaller and smaller before turning back to Eris. 

He wouldn’t leave her side since they left the estate, choosing to ride right alongside her. 

“May I ask perhaps a silly question?” She asked. 

Eris nodded. 

“Why do we not just…winnow to the village?” 

He smirked at her. “It is a fair question. But there are many who reside between the Forest House and Falanaird. I wish to see how even the smallest homes are fairing.” 

Then his smirk grew to a full smile that was almost mischievous. “Besides, the village would be in a panic if their new High Lord appeared before them out of nowhere. I thought it would be better to give them a fair warning of my arrival. By the time we are a few miles out, someone will have alerted them of my presence.” 

Y/N grinned at him. “We are going to Falanaird. I have heard it is quite beautiful…”

Eris narrowed his eyes. “How do you know of Falanaird, little witch?”  

Y/N felt her face heat at his pet name for her. If anyone else used it, she was sure it would irritate her. But coming from him, it only felt sweet. 

But she remained quiet. 

Eris persisted. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with your reading you mentioned, would it?”

“I have been reading about the histories of Autumn Court,” Y/N finally admitted quietly. “After training, I go to one of the libraries and read.” 

“What for?” Eris asked.

Y/N laughed. “To learn about your home, of course. Why else?” 

Before Eris could fully let that settle in, she sat up straighter in her saddle and pointed in the distance. “Look!” When he followed her gaze, she was pointing to two small fae children who were standing at the gate of their little cottage, staring at the High Lord’s traveling company with mesmerized expressions

When Eris locked eyes with them, they gasped in fear and ducked behind the fence. 

“They are only little ones,” Y/N scolded when she saw that Eris had a dark look. “There’s no need to intimidate them.” 

Eris blinked, realizing it was a habit that had been ingrained in him for centuries to intimidate any and all who looked upon him. 

But he knew Y/N was right. What good would it be, having children fear him? 

The High Lord let out a sharp whistle, and the entire company came to a halt. 

He jumped off his horse and moved to a small wagon that had been trailing in the back. His reached into a basket. When his hand reappeared, Y/N realized he had grabbed two cookies from what she now realized was a wagon full of food. 

Eris walked to the edge of the fence where the two young ones were hiding on the other side. 

They slowly peaked over it when they heard his approach. 

“No need to fear,” Y/N heard Eris mutter to them. “We are only passing through.” 

With slow hands, each of them reached out to take his offering. And their eyes lit up when they realized what he was handing them. 

They screeched, “Thank you!” And then ran off in a fit of giggles, surely to eat their cookies before their parents could find out and reprimand them. 

Eris then returned to his horse as if nothing happened. And the company continued without questioning or even looking quizzically at their High Lord. 

But Y/N wasn’t going to let it go unnoticed. “I like when you let others see your kindness, Eris.” 

He refused to look at her as he responded with, “I only did it because you went out of your way to guilt me…”

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

—

They finally reached Falanaird about an hour later. 

Someone had clearly done as Eris suspected, and warned the entire city of their High Lord’s surprise visit. 

Y/N saw the tension fill Eris’ entire posture as everyone stared. He couldn’t sit any straighter in his saddle. She could see his internal struggle of trying to figure if he should be stern and cold as their leader or break the cycle and lead with kindness and integrity. 

They stopped to dismount. 

“Hold your arm out,” Y/N whispered to him hurriedly. 

He looked at her with confusion. 

“They are scared of you,” she hissed. “Offer me your arm. Trust me.”

To her surprise, Eris did as she said. Like a gentleman, his left arm was held out and Y/N gently placed her hand on his bicep. She noted how thick and strong the muscles were there. 

A red-brown haired male came to greet them. 

“Lord Callum,” Eris greeted formally. 

Callum bowed his head deeply. “To what do we owe the pleasure, High Lord?”

“I am surveying the cities of Autumn Court. Much has been ignored these past centuries. I plan to remedy that with a tour of my court.” 

Callum didn’t hide his surprise at such a gesture. Then his gaze shifted briefly to Y/N. “I see you have graced us with the heroin that is your mate.” Then he bowed at her and greeted her with, "Lady Y/N."

Y/N gave him a shy but warm smile. But she promised Eris she would stay quiet and she was not at all versed in political conversations, especially ones at a royal level. 

“Y/N was rather excited to hear we were visiting Falanaird,” Eris answered. Then he looked down at her with an encouraging look. “Weren’t you?” 

Y/N nervously cleared her throat before saying, “Yes! I heard Falanaird is responsible for the best harvests in all of Prythian. I was excited to see the city for myself.” 

Callum seemed to straighten with pride as such a compliment. “You honor us, Lady Y/N.” 

“Let us discuss the needs of the city, Lord Callum.” Eris commanded. 

Callum bowed his head and gestured for them to walk into the city. 

“Make sure to keep that kindness in your eyes,” Y/N whispered to Eris when everyone else around them was distracted. 

Eris’ face immediately softened with her instruction. But he kept Y/N on his arm as they were guided through the city. 

Callum gave Eris detailed updates on various businesses and citizens of Falanaird. Eris rarely interrupted and when he did, it was to ask for more details on certain matters. 

“And how are the crops fairing this season? I know with the last, there was some issues that my father had little patience for.” 

“Aye,” Callum agreed darkly. “The eggplants and carrots are suffering. The creek used to direct water to the beds has been misdirected and we have been unable to fix it permanently.” 

Eris frowned but nodded.

“What is blocking the creek?” Y/N asked suddenly. 

“A giant pine tree, Lady Y/N. It then flows into a river that we have built an irrigation system for those specific crops.” 

Y/N looked to Eris before continuing. He seemed both amused and curious as to where she was going with her question. 

“Could you take us to it?” She continued shyly. 

“The ground is muddy and no place for a lady,” Callum tried to warn her. 

Y/N smirked before teasing him with, “Worried about getting mud on your nice clothing, Lord Callum? I will survive.”

They hiked through a nearby forest to get to the creek Callum referenced. Eris moved Y/N’s hand from the crook of his arm and laced their fingers instead to help her through the hills and mud. She knew he would never let her fall or so much as trip. 

“We have tried to use fire wielders to incinerate it, but the wood is too moist,” Callum explained. 

“I guess it is a good thing your High Lord is here then?” Y/N answered with a smile. Then she turned to Eris. “If I remove the water, can you set the fallen tree alight?” 

Eris nearly scoffed at the question. “I can destroy it even without your efforts.”

Y/N laughed. “Then by all means…” 

With the wave of his hand, Eris set the tree into flames. Even from their distance, Y/N could feel the warmth of it. 

Through his magic, the tree was nothing but ash in just a few seconds. 

However, the creek was still too low to move the water where it needed to go. 

Y/N stepped forward quietly and then kneeled. She looked at the water as if she were about to have a conversation with it. 

Slowly, she started chanting in a whisper. It was once again a language Eris did not know or understand.

But the water started rippling. He heard crashing of water in the distance, and a mini-monsoon of waves came rushing from the creek’s source, filling it up to the brim. 

Callum looked on in awe. Some of their escorts even let out quiet gasps.

Y/N looked up at the sky. 

Everyone stood behind her, but Eris was at her side. So only he saw when her eyes glazed over in white, like they had on the night they’d killed Beron. 

She chanted again. It seemed to echo through the forest. Like nature was chanting back. 

Thunder cracked over them. 

And then the next second, rain started pouring. 

Callum smiled up as the storm soaked him. 

Y/N turned to him. “Hopefully that does it.”

“Thank you, Lady Y/N. You do not know the miracle you have bestowed upon us.” 

Then he watched on as Eris immediately removed his cloak to cover Y/N’s head and protect her from the rain. 

“Follow me,” Callum said. “There is an inn where you can seek shelter.” 

Eris grabbed her hand again, hurrying them to follow Callum. 

But when they reached an inn at the edge of the forest, the two of them were already soaked. 

Y/N giggled from the ridiculousness, especially when she looked up at Eris to find how irritated he seemed about being wet. 

Without realizing what she was doing, she stepped forward to brush some stray hair off his face and behind his ear. 

“Shall we have a drink?” She asked his sweetly. 

And just like that, Eris’ irritation disappeared and he smiled down at his mate. 

He nodded and nudged his head at the barstools in the tavern that was the bottom floor of the inn. 

His sentries were close on their heels, eyeing the patrons who had already been in the tavern upon their arrival. 

“Keep your distance,” Eris commanded. “I do not need you breathing down my neck.” 

They did as he said, grabbing tables and taking standing posts far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on their High Lord’s conversation. 

The bartender clearly recognizes Eris, but didn't let it stop his gruff and abrupt attitude when he asked them what they wanted to drink. 

He slammed two giant mugs of ale in front of them, and then left them alone. 

“I see you have more clever tricks up your sleeve, little witch.” 

Y/N frowned a bit. “If I am being honest, they come as a surprise to me, as well.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ever since that day you found me in the woods…something new has come to the surface. Something…powerful.” Her brow furrowed as her eyes glazed over and she remembered her last days in Night Court. “I almost killed Azriel when we were sparring. I summoned a lightning strike and it almost hit him.” 

Eris smirked. “It would have been a cause for celebration.” 

Y/N pinched his arm. “That is not funny!” 

But Eris’ amusement disappeared as he said, “I will not forgive him for what he did to you. You should have given him your wrath.” 

Y/N stared down into her ale. “The wind said you threatened him when you found out he forgot about me. I guess…I guess it makes sense now that I know our…umm…connection.” 

Eris watched her a moment before he answered. “Well, he would be dead if I did not care about how upset it would make you.” 

Y/N’s face got hot at his confession. So she distracted herself by looking around at the tavern. It was cozy and the light was colored in oranges and reds, only being lit by a hundred candles and two roaring fireplaces. 

“What are your thoughts on Falanaird?” Eris asked after a moment.

“It is beautiful,” Y/N answered immediately. 

“It is no Velaris,” he pointed out. Then a tiny bit of hope sparked in his eyes as he locked gazes with her and added, “But perhaps one day it could be.” 

“Or perhaps…” she replied slowly, “it will be better.”

Eris looked out the window as the rain pelted the glass harshly. “How long did you make it rain for?”

Y/N shrugged and looked a bit embarrassed. “I have not a clue.” 

He laughed. “We could be here all night.” 

“Good thing we’re already at an inn.”

Both their minds went to the scandalous implication of what she may have meant. 

But then Eris remembered what Feyre had once shared with him, what Y/N had confessed to her about her past lovers. And he couldn’t stop the darkness from taking over his face. His grip tightened dangerously on his ale. 

Unfortunately, Y/N interpreted Eris’ sudden shift as his disinterest in the idea of ever sharing a room with her at an inn. 

“Why have you been researching Autumn Court in the libraries?” 

“Library,” she corrected. “Singular.” 

He narrowed his gaze. “You know what I mean. Stop evading my question.” 

Y/N sighed. “I live here now, do I not? I figured I should learn about its history.”

“And you did the same for the Night Court when you lived there?” 

She opened and closed her mouth. “Well…umm n-no, actually.”

Eris looked out the windows again. “Thank you…for your help today, Y/N.” 

“You’re the one who burnt down that giant tree as if it were nothing.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he quickly told her. 

Y/N swallowed, sensing that he was going to say something that would make her heart skip a beat. 

“I find it…difficult deciding who I am supposed to be as High Lord of this court. I do not want to be my father, that I am sure of. But after centuries of wearing a mask…it’s harder to take it off than I ever could have imagined.”

She nodded. 

Eris stared at her a moment before finally confessing, “I find it easier with you at my side. That is what I am thanking you for.” 

Y/N reached for his hand, softly covering it. “Kindness is not a weakness. Just like cruelness does not equate to strength.” 

“Even Rhysand wears a mask to control his subordinates,” Eris argued. “I have seen his charades at the Court of Nightmares.” 

Y/N watched him with confusion. “But why compare yourself to him?” 

“You have seen the headway he’s made as High Lord. His true court is made up of dreamers, not high-borns given power by birthright alone. He has assured female Illyrians have the same opportunities to train as males, and tried his hardest to put a stop to wing clipping. The citizens of Velaris do not fear him, they respect him. How am I not to compare myself?” 

“That is his legacy, not yours.” She urged. “You have only been High Lord for a month, Eris. Give yourself time. You have plenty of it.”  

But Eris said nothing in return, only got lost in his internal battle of self loathing and unrealistic expectations he has put on himself. 

Y/N leaned forward. “Do you know why I insisted that Callum shows us the empty creek? Because I knew you could fix it. And what your people need to see is that you care – about them, about their cities. They need to see that you do not believe you are above their troubles.”

She leaned back. “So you go to village after village in Autumn Court, and you show them that you care.” 

Eris could stop his beaming from her words. “You will come with me?”

Because what did any of this matter if she didn’t?

Eris was starting to realize he couldn’t do any of it without her. 

“And when it is safe for you to leave?”

Y/N frowned at such a subject being brought up. 

She nodded toward the windows. “It has stopped raining.” 

One of his sentries approached. “High Lord, we should start our journey back to the Forest House before it gets too late.” 

Eris reached into his pocket for coins to pay the bartender. 

“Don’ botha,” the bartender spat his his thick accent. “It’s on the ‘ouse.” Then his eyes shifted between the two of them as he dried a glass. “For riddin’ us o’ that favver o’ yours. The both o’ yer.”

When they got outside, someone had already brought their horses for them. 

Y/N tried to return Eris’ cloak to him, quietly handing it to him. The thick fabric was damp for their attempt at shielding her from the rain.

Eris took it, lightly blew on it, and handed it right back to her. 

Y/N eyes widened in surprise when she found that it was completely dry and also warm like it had been sitting by a fire for hours. 

“Keep it,” he instructed firmly. “The sun is setting within the hour.”  

—

They were only 20 or so minutes from the Forest House when Eris saw Y/N’s head bob from falling asleep. 

Her horse, Aengus, kept moving closer and closer to Eris, as if he was worried for his rider and was making sure Eris would be able to catch Y/N if she fell off. 

She was in an exhausted and delirious daze. She could hear the conversations around her. But they felt unreal, like she was in a dream or sleepwalking. 

“Should we move her to the wagon to sleep, High Lord?” One of the guards asked quietly, as if he feared waking her. 

“That won’t be necessary.”

Then Y/N, half asleep, felt a tug on the right side of her saddle. A large mass mounted her horse and pulled themselves behind her in the saddle.

But she recognized Eris’ scent and warmth immediately, stopping her from startling and fully waking up. 

“You were falling asleep in your saddle, little witch. And at risk of falling right off your horse,” Eris whispered in her ear. “Go back to sleep.” 

His arms reached around her, taking her reigns and also caging in her body protectively. 

And she did just that, leaning back against her mate and falling into a deep sleep now that she knew she would be safe from falling off her horse. 

What she didn’t think about was that Eris could have easily winnowed both of them home. She would never put together that her mate finds any way to extend their time together – even if it existed as her falling asleep against his strong chest and he rode them home safely. 

Y/N barely stirred when they returned to the Forest House and Eris gently pulled her from the saddle, landing on the ground with her in his arms. 

His footsteps echoed down the halls.

“Cauldron, what happened?” She recognized Leonora’s worried voice in her sleep. 

“She is only sleeping, mother.”

“The poor thing must be exhausted. Waking up at the crack of dawn to train herself nearly to the point of collapsing. Only for you to force her on a trip to Falanaird afterward.”

Eris sighed. “She insisted. I am going right to the Weapons Master after putting her to bed to tell him their lessons are canceled tomorrow. She needs rest.” 

“Perhaps you should take the day, too.” Leonora urged. “Together.”

--------

Please please please please please please let me know what you think! Be like @pancakefancake

Chapter XX

[aflamboyanceofflamingos]

So I've been dealing with a really bad fever for the last few days, and apparently i had written something i have no recollection of writing so here it is:

~~~~~~~

Tim had dug himself into a hole.

To anyone that knew him, that fact wouldn't be too surprising. Tim had always been a very capable individual, but every now and then he became too in love with how capable he was and he would trip over his own ego. Usually the boy could get out of the messes he created, the sudden humbling giving him a clear head, but this time, he didn't think he could climb his way out on his own. 

The first shovel of dirt of this metaphorical hole came over 4 years ago, lining up with the first shovel of dirt of a literal hole. 

Jason Todd had died. Robin had died. 

Batman was in shambles. 

And 13 year old Tim Drake thought that because of the knowledge he had, it was his responsibility to fix him. 

Batman needed a Robin, and despite what Nightwing had implied, Tim was nowhere near cool enough to be Robin. 

So what would make Batman get his own sidekick? If his enemies had one! Batman would be forced to find someone else to deal with the sidekick while he dealt with the actual Rouge. 

The Joker was obviously out. Beyond the fact that the Joker was horrible, Tim may be joining up with a villain but that didn’t mean he wanted Batman to hate him. 

That meant he needed to find someone Batman didn’t enact a lot of violence on. That got rid of the Scarecrow and the various crime bosses (Black Mask, the Penguin, etc.). Bruce had been close to Harvey Dent, but a 50% chance of death was a percentage that was just a little too high for Tim (oh how that would change). Most of the lower tier Rouges (Kite Man, Mad Hatter, etc.) had gone under after the got wind of Batman's fury, not to mention that Tim really didn't want to spend his days smelling like ketchup. Poison Ivy and Killer Croc were cool, but their skills weren't exactly ones Tim could replicate. 

That left Mr. Freeze, Catwoman, Harley Quinn, and the Riddler. 

The Mr. Freeze was more gentle with kids, their “villiainly” being based on the actions of adults, and the latter three were in it for their own interests rather than the purpose of killing or invoking fear, Catowman wanted shiny things, Harley wanted chaos and fun, and while the Riddler didn't share the same soft spot for kids, he respected intelligence. 

Tim chose Catwoman; the least lethal, and the closest with Batman. The skills she could teach him would also be more helpful in other situations.

It took about a week from the day he knocked on Selina Kyle's door to convince her to train him, but soon enough, a couple days before his 14th birthday and a few more calls to 911 about petty thieves left in the wake of Batman’s grief then Tim would have liked, “Stray” entered the scene. 

And his plan was working! 

The first time Batman had seen the second pair of cat ears he had paused mid ass-kicking of a carjacker and followed the duo, leaving the guy with more teeth then the others.

Slowly but surely, as time went on, the punishments the Batman inflicted started to fit the crime. By the time Tim was 15, he even thought he had seen a small upturn at the corner of Bruce’s mouth as he witnessed a bit of friendly banter between the two cats!

This was when the young villain had started to become a tad bit overconfident. In his defense, he had managed to keep his identity hidden from even Oracle! Lifts in his shoes, a voice modulator, make-up to disguise his facial features, along with a set of the same goggles Catwoman had kept and physical information from being revealed, and Tim Drake never interacted with Selina Kyle so there was no reason that anyone should have suspected him.

That overconfidence is what led him to replicate his plan. If one Rouge sidekick had benefits, then two Rouge sidekicks would mean double the benefits!

Solving riddles wasn’t too hard for the young boy, being able to see double meaning and red herrings was a skill taught to him by Janet Drake, and he took to the escape-room-esque plans for his heists quite easily. The thing he couldn’t figure out was creating riddles of his own. Mother had taught him that knowledge was power, you only reveal it if there was something to be gained, so purposely revealing information about his intention, helping his opponent was not something Tim was accustomed to, not bound to the compulsion to always tell the truth.

If the boy truly wanted to replicate the Riddler, then he would have to learn from the man himself.

Convincing the enigmatic man to teach Tim was easier than it had been with Catowman, the impressive display of bypassing the puzzles that hid the location of the game-playing criminal certainly helping.

Now, 15 years old with an unexplained skill boost in his AP Lang class (the lessons on wordplay were a definite help), The Riddler’s protege, ‘The Puzzler’ became the newest addition to the Gotham Rogues. He resented that name by the way. It was supposed to be Sibyl or Sphinx, they were on theme because they spoke in riddles and though he would deny it, the use of greek figures were his own little way of mocking Oracle, who still couldn’t figure out his identity. But apparently Poison Ivy and the Riddler had brunch once a month (something about being the green Rouges?) and she had heard the Riddler refer to him as “the little puzzle piece” when he was talking about his apprentice and the puzzle theme stuck despite how uncreative the name was.

This is when things became a bit hectic. Not only did Tim have to hide his nightlife from Batman and his parents, now he had to keep his two mentors from realizing that their mentees were the same person. 

He managed to convince Selina that the reason he was so busy lately was the AP classes that came with sophomore year, and while it wasn’t a lie, it certainly wasn’t the full story.

Nygma was easier to deceive. Tim had refrained from sharing his actual identity with the man (just because he would tell the truth in his puzzles for the sake of theme didn’t mean that he would be sharing personal information if it wasn’t needed. The only reason he hadn't hid it from Selina was to gain her trust, something that wasn’t needed with the Riddler) so just saying that he was busy was enough.

All the effort was worth it though. Things kept getting better.

Nightwing was seen in Gotham more often, and Spoiler (someone who Tim initially thought was trying to steal his thing by being a sidekick of the Cluemaster, only to realize she was working against him) had been seen fighting alongside the Batman one or twice. 

On an unrelated note, Stephiane Brown suddenly had her tuition for Gotham Academy paid for in full by the newly created Jason Todd Foundation.

Since things were going so well, he decided to push his luck a little further.

Unfortunately for Tim, he would soon realize the reason he was known for his bad luck in the future.

It started off like other times. Tim convinced Harley Quinn to take him under her wing, and “Ace” made their debut along with Tim’s 5 in AP Psych (Thank you Dr. Quinzel).

Steph and Tim happened to share a few classes together, and went from study buddies (Tim helping her in Chem, and Steph helping him in American History) to close friends.

Spoiler officially joined the Bats, and there were rumors of another bat joining the clan as well. Well there were no actual rumors, but the newest Wayne kid, Cassandra, had started joining him and Steph at their lunch table so her becoming a new bat wouldn’t be too surprising.

Soon enough though, things went to shit.

To start off, the first time Spoiler met Ace, she threw a brick at his head.

Second, His parents had caught him sneaking out and had grounded him, meaning that he now had to wait until they did their last check on his room at 12:00 to sneak out. 

The lack of sleep was starting to catch up to the highschooler. Handling 3 separate nightlife identities was hard enough, but doing so while exhausted was even harder.

After pulling an all nighter to study for a test the night before, he had gone to Selina’s apartment dressed as Ace, and had both costumes not been mostly black he would have been undoubtedly caught before he managed to fix his mistake.

Puzzler once spent a whole night sounding like Stray, and he didn’t think that his “sore throat” lie was all that believable.

Tim accidentally made a cat pun instead of a bat one when engaging in vaguely flirty banter with Spoiler as Ace and Harley had set him down to have the talk, stating that she would love him no matter who he liked and she would be happy to serve as a wingman for him and Catwoman’s protege. It would be funny if it wasn’t so embarrassing.

Third, Cassandra Wayne definitely knew something.

Tim’s “rumors” were right. 2 weeks after Cass had first joined their table Black Bat made herself known. By pinning Puzzler to the ground.

The next day Cass spent the entire lunch period staring at Tim. When he attempted to throw her off by invoking a mix of Stray and Ace’s mannerisms she stopped staring, instead choosing to freak Tim out more by smiling knowingly. At his wide eyes she mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key only throwing Tim off further. Cass was too smart to not have known, but there was no reason she wouldn’t tell if she did know, right?

Last, but not least, and the worst of all:

Jason Todd was alive.

~~~~~~~

I have no clue where i was going with that last line, but i see a vision, so I'm hoping it will come back to me, but if not, any suggestions or constructive criticism (or a better puzzle themed name for tim) would be helpful

[transparentair]

chance, basically just by nature of having zero context beyond "drug addict ptsd beserker: symbol of the Great Khans Current State of Affairs" is the oc of anyone who ever tries to extrapolate on him, but anyways my own hyper complicated exceedingly long and incomplete headcanon of his family sitch

cw for divorce and drugs and parental death and the fact that this is just shit i completely made up founded on literally nothing <3

also this was not written in an organised headcanon cluster. it's all train of thought.

mother and father were mercs employed by darion in the age of the new khans. his mother was known to be fairly headstrong and his father was known to be particularly good at cutting a deal.

mother and father were super in love with each other for a time, but after the chosen one wiped out the new khans, his father was permanently physically disabled (got shot in the spine and became paralysed in his lower body) and both of them developed PTSD and it really shook up their relationship

they had chance, not to fix their relationship, but because he was a #happyaccident that also happened to make them feel a bit hopeful for the future. But It Cannot Be Overstated How Much Parenthood Did Not Fix Them

they still went through a very slowburn divorce arc and mutually split after falling in love with other people when chance was approaching his preteens. chance tried to avoid them when the atmosphere was bad, so neither parents were particularly strong presences in his life once he passed toddler age and could be trusted to leave their line of sight without Dying Immediately

his mother did the bulk of the parenting on account of her being able-bodied, though chance's dad did his absolute best to contribute where he could. anything that could be done within the confines of their yurt was his domain (making sure chance got to bed and went to sleep, playing with toys, etc.)

since every single adult in the camp was painfully aware of chance's parents' situation, it was a vague "it takes a village" affair where everyone kept watch on chance but couldn't overstep in the situation. when his parents split, everyone felt bad for chance, but was also relieved and felt more comfortable stepping in directly to fill in the gaps (especially after chance outright rejected his stepmother's care at every turn)

father stayed with the great khans, but his mother left the great khans for the understandable reason of Not Wanting To Constantly Feel Endangered and also the very sad but unfortunately common reason of Not Wanting to Deal With Taking Care of a Disabled Spouse For The Rest of Her Life (While Also Being a Mother While Also Having Major PTSD and a Drug Abuse Problem) but also the reasonable reason of This Man Has Another Lover Who Can Do It So Why Should I Stay

chance was always hyperaware of the strained atmosphere and also confused by the situation, so it wasn't shocking when his mother left, but still deeply upsetting, and even worse when his father's new lover (in chance's view) swoops into their yurt literally before his mother's footprints have faded from the loose dirt on the floor.

chose to stay with his father anyway because he wanted his mother to change her mind and also felt like the great khans were home. and didn't want to leave the very shaky concept of home he had for something he knew nothing about all alone with (presumably, unaware of his mother's lover) only his mother

became emotionally estranged from his father since he blamed him for his mother's leaving. didn't have the perspective or knowledge to realise that both of his parents fell out of love with each other and fell in love with people, so the situation was actually better (for the parents but definitely hard on the kid). never really warmed up to his step mother and only really interacted with her after his father died. they never became particularly close, but he stopped being angry and bitter towards her by the time he was an older teen.

his father died when he was right on the cusp of becoming an adult and everyone was like "you really don't need to worry about initiation you should actually take a lot of time to process and grieve because that's really hard to lose both parents. PLEASE." but he kind of (seemed to) not gaf at all and nobody could FORCE him to not do his initiation.

the necklaces are almost like a family symbol. his mother gave him the circular necklace he wears before leaving and the little bone charm necklace was his from the start. his father had a necklace that his step mother tried to pass on to him, but he REALLY didn't want it.

chance DID inherit a really unfortunate genetic disposition to drug addiction from his mother, but it didn't go full throttle until it was his time to ride in the severe PTSD rodeo

chance was born with his father's darker brown hair but it turned blonde. he takes after his mother slightly more than his father appearance-wise, but he did get his father's incredibly funny resting bitch face syndrome and severe eyebrows. and his blue eyes (though his father's were greyer) but that's not as important. slash j

his quietness (even before he became fully nonverbal) was mostly just from his family situation growing up, but he was noted later on by attentive adults like oscar to have a surprisingly defensive disposition that was fairly similar to his father's when he was younger

[durzarya]

I want to hear about your Hero Academia trash collection story.

Ohh boy for some context: that entire fix it au was inspired by my city's incredibly stupid new trash collection system

Meaning that the provided trash cans got incredibly small and the fees more than doubled (among other things).

Which is how this was born

Anyways

It starts the same as the show but everyone is a year younger so Izuku has some time with OFA and doesn't have to rush to UA

For some reason All Might has to leave for a time and Izuku is left alone to train after cleaning up the beach

And on one of his morning runs he stumbles upon a man who tries to leave a fridge on the now clean beach

There is no malice in his decision. But renting a truck to bring the fridge to an actual dump site is not cheap. And depositing said fridge also takes money

He doesn't have the money

So it's much easier to drag the fridge two blocks and dump it. Everyone else is doing it? What's one more piece of trash on that mountain

What actually happens is that Izuku carries the fridge to the deposit site he and All Might have gone several times and pays the deposit fee with his own pocket money

He also successfully befriends the whole neighborhood and through vigorous research and selling a lot of stuff to pawn shops he manages to make the place semi clean

This is unfortunately unsustainable

Pawning things and hard work can take you a little farther, but sometimes people are too poor to take out the trash

Enter Shigaraki Tomura

I don't know exactly how but Izuku manages to befriend him

Maybe they stumble into each other while Izuku is running shop to shop looking for some kind of deal, maybe they argue on some obscure forum about All Might, maybe Shigaraki notices that a lot of petty criminals just straight up disappear in one part of the city because some kid needs some people to help his clean up method and he is working with what he can

The point is that they are friends

It's a pretty new thing for both of them

And when Izuku sees Tomura accidentally disintegrate something his first reaction is not mindless terror

Instead he thinks: that could be useful

This is how Shigaraki Tomura, AFOs successor and Midoriya Izuku OFAs ninth user end up collecting and destroying trash without knowing anything about the other's legacy.

And Tomura gets to see Izuku, someone who wants to be a hero, going around helping people left and right. It wouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter, not to him

But

But Izuku holds out his hand to street kids full of dirt and grime. Who look more like a nightmare than human beings

He can ignore everything else but he cannot ignore that. Not when his younger face is staring back at him and practically screaming: This one is actually a hero

He is also technically a villain. No hero work for him thank you very much. Dusting trash is an illegal use of his quirk nothing else (the fact that most heroes wouldn't even consider that a work of a vigilante is conveniently ignored)

He also doesn't really want to get AFOs attention on this but screwing with the system is always great and thanks to those video games he genuinely loves exploiting anything he can

This is how Shigaraki Tomura dumps his evil plan of upsetting the status and quo lands on the table of the small community he has been terrorizing (helping) (here are some back doors in the law on how to make the government actually take care of the garbage)

Things escalate and...

There is no vigilante emerging from the pits of Mustafa

All Might’s protegee doesn’t fight crime and All for One’s doesn’t plan for a Leauge to break society

There is however a new trash collecting regulation that forces the officials to keep the trash prices affrodable for everyone

And villainy is getting lower as it is implemented

--

Anyway that's the short explanation of my trash au. There are more parts one with Bakugou accidentally tutoring a bunch of social outcasts

one with Ochako, Shinso and Iida accidentally making a support network for financially struggling villains which makes Tensei gradually shift from capture hero to rehabilitation

and one with Dabi off all people becoming a semi legal emergency foster parent and helps Hawks out of his gilded cage

-

(Also there is a scene that lives rent free in my head that after either a disaster or a big destructive fight, Stain trying to get his philosophy by preaching to the masses and someone just chunking a shovel and telling him to get to fucking work and help people)

[dreamblasterharuka]

Meine Kneipe

October 1925. Five years after Osea officially prohibited the creation and distribution of alcohol. About six months since Trigger had to leave her home and accidentally stepped into the world created by the people breaking the law to do it anyway. The seedy world of bootlegging, speakeasies, and rum-running.

I've had this AU in mind for forever, and I finally had a chance to write it. Also, look at me actually writing Trigger/Tabloid!

Kinda long, so press that read more at your own risk. Title comes from Meine Kneipe by Von Wegen Lisbeth.

Also on AO3

October 1925. Five years after Osea officially prohibited the creation and distribution of alcohol. About six months since Trigger had to leave her home and accidentally stepped into the world created by the people breaking the law to do it anyway. The seedy world of bootlegging, speakeasies, and rum-running.

Cool night air kissed Trigger’s skin as she kept watch for cops or rival mobsters ready to rain on their parade. Fall had firmly settled in, and winter would be just around the corner. Honestly, the cold stung a little, but it was either that or leave the car window up and deal with the overwhelming smell of tobacco.

Count kept up his overconfident facade on the ride over, but he’d smoked like a chimney the entire way. So he clearly wasn’t that confident. He always smoked when he was nervous, but he got pissy when called on it, so Trigger avoided bringing it up. The way he kept patting the pocket holding his Colt 1911 was a bit more subtle.

She didn’t blame him for being anxious. A big business deal was going down that night, and Wiseman put him in charge of making sure it went smoothly. Even if Count was a known con man and a…What was the fancy word Tabloid used? Pathonomic? Liar, he was pretty good at talking to people. In this world of liquor and crime where a few well placed words could be the difference between walking away scott-free or jail, it was a good skill to have. 

Trigger wasn’t worried. Count was a good liar, and better at wiggling out of trouble. Besides, Huxian had his back, acting as the muscle. Trigger saw her fight people much bigger than her and win. She would also just shoot anybody who started anything. If anything, Huxian should’ve wound up with the name Trigger, and Trigger should have wound up with Butterfingers, or something.

Trigger never sat in on the meetings. Her job was to stay in the car and be ready to bolt. She was supposed to be on lookout, too, but she hadn’t seen anything through the dense treeline. The meeting was in a little house in a thicket in the middle of nowhere, with one dirt road leading past it. She could barely make out the lights in the house, but not any movement. Not that she expected bootleggers to have set up their operation in their living room. She hadn’t heard any gunshots yet, so it must’ve been going fine.

She found herself flipping open the little silver pocket watch she kept in her breast pocket. Checking it had become something of a habit since her mother pressed it into her hands and sent her off on the first train to the city a few months ago. Half the time she didn’t even see the time and would have to open it again. Her mother never kept jewelry, so it was probably the closest thing she would get to having a family heirloom. Just tracing her fingernails on the indents of bluebells etched into the lid gave her comfort.

She needed to write a letter home, soon. She tried to write one once a month, to let the family know she was still alive and had a roof over her head, and of her little adventures. Big adventures never made it to paper. As far as they were concerned, she made a living making deliveries for a local general store, which was technically true. 

A shadow passed in the front window, then several more. Trigger dropped the watch back into her breast pocket and settled her hand on the grip of the revolver kept in her cross-draw holster. It probably wouldn’t do much, and she was supposed to book it at the first sign of trouble, but she’d never been good at backing down from fights. It’d probably be more effective to try and run someone over, but Avril would bring her back to life to kill her again for the damage to the car.

Apparently she didn’t need to worry. The silhouettes of her compatriots appeared in the doorway, hauling a large box between them. She could tell it was her friends by Huxian’s long ponytail and the way Count held his hat down. At least it was just a fedora, and not his top hat. She swore one of these days somebody was going to shoot him on principle. 

Time to get to work. Trigger craned her head out the window. “Need any help with those?”

Count’s smile looked downright manic. The meeting must have been intense. “Nope. Just get the car running.”

The bootleggers killed the lights, leaving them completely to the dim light of a half-moon. Not like it bothered her. It was still enough to see the dash and turn the engine over. Back when they had to work for Mckinsey, starting the car meant having to hand crank it. She missed the excuse to hop out and stretch, but she for sure didn’t miss having to try and get everything working while getting shot at. Wiseman had a vested interest in keeping them alive, hence the self-starter. 

She turned the key. Her heart pounded in tandem with the engine humming to life. Count and Huxian dropped the crate in the trunk with a clatter, and were now roshambo-ing to see who rode shotgun. Trigger watched over the little gauges in case anything looked off.

The L.M. Raptor was a nice car. It didn’t have much room for passengers, but it could carry quite a bit in the trunk. More than that, it was zippy, and could keep its top speed for a while before starting to peter out. Combine that with the fact it was “easy” to work on and modify, it was a darling of the criminal underworld. She couldn’t name a single part in it, except for maybe the steering wheel and pedals, despite Avril’s best efforts to teach her. 

Count won the game and wound up in front. 

“Only because he cheated.” There wasn’t a whole lot of space in the back, so Huxian half-draped herself across the seat.

Count had the sharp liquor smell to him, which might’ve explained the attitude. “I did not! Tell her, Trigger.”

Trigger shrugged. She wasn’t really sure if it was possible to cheat at rock-paper-scissors, but she noticed Count tended to win more often than not. Maybe Huxian had a soft spot for him and let him win, but Trigger wasn’t stupid enough to ask. She bruised easy. 

Getting back to the city should have been a piece of cake. Once they got to the main road, it was a straight shot for an hour until they crossed county lines. Long, boring drives weren’t her favorite, but her friends made it bearable. It was always slightly different each time, and it was nice to listen to the conversation. Kept her from daydreaming too much. Usually, it helped her keep an eye out for any obstacles. Usually.

Light flooded the car. Two headlights, way too bright to be stock, practically chewed on her bumper. Her rearview was at a bad angle for it, becoming a miniature spotlight straight into her eyeballs. Trigger couldn’t tell a thing about its make or model, but she could take a wild guess. A shrill siren pierced the air, confirming the worst. Pigs.

Her head ran through scenario after scenario. Yeah, she was speeding, but surely not enough to be suspicious. It was just as likely to be a regular speed trap as it was to be an ambush. Maybe it would be better to pull over and get read the riot act than speed off and have every cop in the county on their tail. 

Something popped behind them, a bullet whizzing past her open window that she really should have closed that when they left. Trigger could feel the grin growing on her face. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to pull over now. 

A simple “Hold on.” was the only warning she gave before shifting and hitting the accelerator. The Raptor lurched, ready to be set loose. She jerked on the wheel, swerving from side to side, hopefully enough to make them think twice before shooting. It might buy time, but it wouldn’t be enough until they found an escape route. Luckily, there were still side streets to take, but she doubted they would really lead anywhere they could lose them. 

Huxian dove beneath the seats, reemerging with a violin case. She undid the latches, and started putting the Thompson submachine gun together with a practiced ease. They usually weren’t supposed to shoot at cops, since it was more trouble than it was worth. But the cops usually didn’t shoot at them first. For all they knew, these could be hitmen that managed to score themselves a patrol car.

A few more bullets whizzed past her window, but not a single one hit. Down and to the left. Whoever they were, they weren’t very good.

Huxian tucked the Thompson under her arm and flung her door open. Count, who’d been watching over his shoulder, was now fully turned around and halfway over the front seat to grab a fist full of her coat as she hung outside. 

Trigger might’ve heard him yell something along the lines of “What the hell is wrong with you?” but it was drowned out by a burst of automatic fire. Huxian had to have held the trigger down for at least a full second, shooting wildly into the air above their pursuers. 

The other car slammed on the brakes, and swerved. It was good enough for her. She tore down the closest right turn, the inertia flinging her friends back into the car. Lucky for them. If it was the other way, they’d probably be dumped on the pavement. 

Unfortunately, this place didn’t have anywhere to hide. Houses scattered to the right, far enough apart that they couldn’t hide between them. To the left was a sea of corn, as far as the eye could see. Just tall enough to maybe cover them. It wasn’t a great option by any means, but it was still their best. She drove straight until she could make out the break in the rows for a fire road, and pulled onto it, just in time to hear the siren turn onto the street.

Fire road was generous. What it really was was a dirt path made for a tractor. A small tractor at that. While Trigger might’ve been used to driving these as fast as possible back on the farm, that was with farm equipment, and alone. It was much different bouncing around in a proper car with two other people hanging on for dear life. While she tried her best to avoid the stalks, it was somebody’s livelihood, after all, the occasional heavy cob would bend in their way, smacking into the window. One particularly bold husk somehow found its way into her still open window, covering her in corn silk. 

It seemed to go on forever, unable to see anything but the path ahead, listening to the wailing siren somewhere behind them. She couldn’t tell if it was fading or getting louder, until it went silent altogether. Nobody spoke. The excitement of getting to drive fast bled into anxiety of needing to drive fast, and then into the fear that something was going to jump out at them from in between the stalks.

Finally, finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel as the dirt path spit them back onto a proper road. It looked free of any cars. After rolling up her window and checking their direction, she put the pedal to metal back to the city. 

She forgot who started laughing first, but it turned into a proper contagious giggle fit between all of them. The whole drive continued like that, only pausing for brief moments at a time which were broken again as soon as someone made eye contact. 

They pulled into Wiseman’s in the wee hours in the morning, after most of the patrons ducked out for the evening. And by most, she meant the only people still hanging around were Wiseman himself behind the bar, and Avril, Tabloid and the Princess hanging out at one of the card tables.

Cossette wasn’t really a princess, or at least Trigger was pretty sure she wasn’t, but she looked the part. Big blue doe eyes and smooth golden hair made her look like she stepped straight out of a fairytale. She was a little naive, but not stupid, like a fairytale heroine, as well. She was Erusean, here in Osea to study. Trigger suspected she might’ve been a noble, judging by how nice her clothing and jewelry was, but Cossette never said, and she wasn’t about to pry. Honestly, she could probably afford to hang out somewhere nicer, but the Useans seemed to be on the brink of a turf war, and Trigger could understand not wanting to wind up in the middle. Besides, she was more than willing to throw some of that money around at the bar, and she had made friends with Avril, which was no easy feat. 

Avril Mead wasn’t mean, per se, but she definitely had no time for bullshit. It was a mechanic thing. The better a mechanic is, the less time they have. And she was a really good mechanic, so she really had no time. She and Trigger were roommates at the boardinghouse. They thought the other didn’t like them for the longest time. It took Avril approaching her one night after a shootout to figure out that they just communicated differently. Now Trigger was the only other person allowed to help with the car, due to “weird sixth sense crap” that helped with driving. It was a badge of honor for her.

Tabloid was the first to notice them come in, flashing her one of his signature smiles. The kindly man, who got his nickname by working for one of the local rags, had been her first, and for a while, only, friend when she came to the city. He was smart, mostly working as a bookkeeper for both the bar and the general store upstairs. Probably smart enough to not work in the criminal underworld, but times were tough and he sent most of the money back to his family. That, and she knew hiding behind all the smiles and witty comments was an anti-authority streak a mile wide. 

“Deal went well, I take it?” Wiseman was the owner and operator of the speakeasy, and their boss. A sharp negotiator and businessman, he grew the place from his basement. When their last job fell through, he took Trigger and the others under his wing, acting more like a mentor or father figure most of the time, but he wouldn’t hesitate to give a good kick in the ass when it was needed. It was easy to see why all his employees were so loyal to him.

“Of course it went well!” Count tipped his hat out of the way. “We got the price down and they still were practically begging us to come back.”

Wiseman smiled. “Well, bring it out and let’s see it then, yeah?”

Count, Huxian and Avril all went back to the car. Count and Huxian to get the alcohol, and Avril to check on any damage to the car. Trigger suddenly felt anxious, and tried to remember if she damaged the car on their little excursion. If there was so much as a scratch on the paint, she would be getting an earful. Maybe she should’ve went with them to distract her, but she was pretty sure she would only get in the way, and three people would be mad at her instead of one.

Seeing as there wasn’t really anything for her to do, Trigger took one of the seats at the bar. Normally, it was impossible to get a seat this up close and personal. This was one of the biggest speakeasies this side of town, featuring tons of tables and a dance floor in front of a large stage. There wasn’t a band tonight, but when there was, it was standing room only. Here, in the early hours of the morning, the cavernous space was deafeningly quiet. Her companions loudly bustling around was an out of place comfort. 

Count and Huxian returned from the alley out back, hauling the crate of clinking bottles between them, and dropping them off behind the bar next to Wiseman. Avril limped in behind them, looking only mildly annoyed. That meant that the Raptor was fine, and Trigger didn’t accidentally scratch the paint on the way out of dodge.

Tabloid took the spot to her left, peering over the bar to count the amount of bottles in the crate and making some marks in a ledger. He hummed to himself, and closed it, apparently pleased with what he saw. His eyes wandered to hers, and he studied her for a moment before reaching out to her. Or her hair, rather, pulling something staticy out. A string of corn silk dangled from his fingertips. “What is this?”

He let the piece drop, and ran his fingers through her hair, checking for more. She would’ve been lying if she said she wasn’t just a smidge mortified. Her short hair was messy on the best of days, and driving around at top speed with the window down turned it into a proper rat’s nest. Tabloid was probably her best friend, and heaven knew he’d seen her in much worse states, but it was still embarrassing to have a handsome man pick vegetable matter out of her tangled hair. “It’s corn silk.”

He plucked another strand out of her hair. “Why do you have corn in your hair?”

“Trigger drove us through a cornfield.”

She pouted. Count made it sound like she drove straight through, running over corn the whole way. “There was a road.”

Wiseman paused his glass cleaning, the look in his eye going from mildly amused to concerned parent. ‘Why’d you drive through a cornfield?”

“Cops came after us when we skipped town. Started shooting at us outta nowhere.”

“We lost them in the corn.” Count rolled his eyes at her, but she wouldn’t let her excellent corn driving go unnoticed.

Wiseman was quiet for a moment. “Do you think it was McKinsey?”

Police Captain Doug McKinsey was supposed to be a keeper of the law, and made sure the papers knew about all the ‘hard work’ he’d put in keeping liquor off the streets. What he actually was was a rat in a human body. In truth, he would target people who couldn’t fight back and implicate them in some nonsense crime. He’d then wrap them up in his own bootlegging business under threat of prison, and use blackmail from that to keep them there. Many of the people he targeted were from immigrant families, or otherwise had people relying on them. Prison wasn’t just a threat to them, but the threat of starvation to their loved ones.

She, Avril, Tabloid and Count were all victims of his scheme. They’d made booze, laundered money, and got in life-threatening danger because of him. They’d been trapped under his thumb, helpless, until somebody set one of his buildings on fire, destroying all the blackmail. No one knew who the arsonist was, but no one stuck around to find out. From there, the four of them signed on with Wiseman and his crew, after running into them previously, and the rest was history.

The cops tonight might’ve been McKinsey’s boys, but she couldn’t say for sure if it was a hit. He was a self-centered bastard, which was a two-pronged sword. Sneaky and underhanded, he was always backstabbing as soon as it benefited him. But he was also a massive coward. If he was taking a swing at them, he wouldn’t have done it without having his ass covered. In theory, they could go public with all his criminal activities, and with Tabloid’s link to the papers, the entire city could know by sunrise. He was stupid, but she didn’t think he was stupid enough to kill them without being sure that couldn’t happen. 

“Maybe. They might’ve just been regular cops, though.”

“What if they weren’t pigs at all?” All eyes turned to Tabloid, still picking corn silk out of her hair. “If some gangsters managed to get their hands on a patrol car, they could’ve killed everyone and all the witnesses would assume that it was just the police taking care of criminals. With how corrupt they are, it wouldn’t surprise me if the police department swept the whole thing under the rug, and the real killers would get away scott-free.”

Count rested his head on his hand. “Who would go to the trouble, though?”

Tabloid finally stopped messing with her hair, and Trigger couldn’t tell if she was happy about that or not. “Now that’s the question. One of the Useans, maybe? Rumor has it that they’re all ready for a turf war.”

Cossette dropped her head, and seemed awful intent on studying her nail polish. She looked almost guilty, but Trigger couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t like any of it was her fault. Although the world was currently at peace, scars of the last war still lingered. Even after leaving everything behind to start a new life across the ocean, it was easy to blame one’s neighbor for the actions of their homeland. Trigger even experienced it out in the sticks, when a passer-through Erusean practically spat at her mother for being from Shilage. The guy received a bloody nose for it, and she got a lecture.

Gangs in the city tended to group up by whichever country their families were from. The Osean and Erusean families were the biggest, but the current rumor was that the Shilagean and Volsagean families entered some kind of pact. That led to more rumors that they were doing it to take on the Eruseans, which could only result in a full on turf war.

Wiseman seemed to notice the change in mood and grabbed a bottle from the crate. “We can talk about this tomorrow. For now, let’s test the goods.”

With the popping of the cork, the atmosphere and passion of a full bar returned for a moment. Wiseman lined up a few shot glasses, pouring an even amount in all of them in one fluid, practiced moment. Her own face of amazement scrunched as she counted seven glasses, one for each person in attendance, including herself.

Trigger didn’t like alcohol. There was something horribly ironic about it, how it was liquid currency, one that changed almost everything about her life and fate in an instant. She risked her life for it, she might as well enjoy the fruits of her labor. But it was gross. The only way she’s ever liked it was when it was mixed in with so much syrups and other flavors that she couldn’t taste it. People told her that it wasn’t about the taste, it was how it made you feel, but the only time she’d been drunk she just felt tired and weepy. A long day could do that to her, but for a chunk of change she could pay for the privilege of doing it in public. No thanks. She didn’t touch the stuff if she could help it.

But she had to make exceptions for moments like this. A celebration of their skills, surrounded by her friends. She grabbed her glass and joined the toast. Maybe the sweet taste of success would make the taste tolerable.

She downed the shot and immediately sputtered. No, the sweet taste of success did nothing. This one tasted like burning, and it felt like it the whole way down. The only consolation was that she didn’t spit it all over the counter this time. Small improvements. Everyone else looked pleased, so it must have been the right kind of burn. Count and Huxian even went for more, the absolute psychopaths.

Before she knew it, another hour of camaraderie passed. It was already too late when they arrived, and pretty soon the earliest workers would be getting the day started. Trigger would have to be out of bed in a couple of hours. Wiseman spotted the time on her pocket watch, and promptly threw them out of his bar. 

At some point, Avril and Cossette disappeared into the night. Avril likely drove the Princess home, or a car came to pick them up, and Trigger was conflicted. The two girls almost acted like young lovers at times. While she was glad their friendship had grown so strong, it could be incredibly awkward to be their third wheel. Unfortunately, Avril was supposed to be her ride, and Trigger really didn’t want to walk home alone. The city was sketchy enough in broad daylight.

Count and Huxian both lived the opposite direction, and were both more than a little tipsy. She was pretty sure Wiseman lived above the general store, so he shouldn’t have to leave the building. Any one of them would have gone out of their way to help her get home, but she didn’t want to be a bother. 

“Hey, Trigger.” Tabloid, ever the knight in shining armor, waited at the bottom of the steps. “Walk you home?”

She smiled and nodded. They lived fairly close together, so he hopefully wouldn’t be too put out by it. Taking his side, they trekked into the darkness.

The night was quiet, or at least as quiet as the city got. Constant lights and sounds, even in the dead of night, were some of the hardest things she’d had to get used to when moving to the city. She still got headaches from it sometimes. But she could feel in the back of her chest where the city changed her. Even if she snapped her fingers and appeared home, the silence would be just as eerie and concerning. But she would adjust. Just like she’s adjusted to all the other weird stuff in her life.

Their conversation went the same way most of their conversations went. Tabloid carried on with most of the actual conversing, and she interjected whenever she could actually think of something to say. It was comfortable. Even as he ranted about a proposed city infrastructure bill because the money would just land in the pockets of the legislation pushing it. 

Eventually, they arrived at the boardinghouse, and their evening finally wound to an end. 

“Thank you. For walking me.”

“Anytime. Get some rest, yeah?” He gave her a soft smile, and her heart leapt into her throat. All she could do was nod.

Like a proper gentleman, he watched to make sure she made it inside safely, even if it meant sticking around while she fumbled around her pockets for her keys. Somehow, it was more nerve-racking than the police chase. Finally, she found the right one, and slammed the door behind her, leaning against it as she waited for her heart to stop pounding so hard.

What was that all about? Was she getting sick?

She neatly set her coat on the rack, and took the stairs up two at a time, nearly running into the ugly fruit bowl painting that marked her floor. Her door creaked as she opened it, slightly stirring Avril. Trigger paid her absolutely no mind as she crossed the floor over to the window and shoved it open. Part of her wasn’t sure it was supposed to open at all with how much groaned. The sudden onslaught of noise and cold air must’ve been a nasty wake up call to Avril, who was now grumbling behind her.

“What’re you doing? Close the damn window!”

Trigger ignored her, squeezing out the small gap she was able to make, and leaned out as far over the street as the flimsy windowsill would let her, in time to see Tabloid about to turn the corner. He stopped just as he did, and waved at her. She couldn’t see his face from there, but she hoped she got a laugh out of him. She waved back as he disappeared around the corner.

She pulled herself back into the room, and straight into the line of fire. Avril’s pillow collided with the back of her head with enough force that it probably would have sent her flying into the road, killing her instantly. She didn’t say anything about it, however, because she would’ve been annoyed enough to attempt homicide if the situation was reversed. She did, however, keep the pillow until after the window was fully closed before tossing it back.

Flopping unceremoniously onto the bed, she landed at eye contact with a stack of papers on the desk. Right. She needed to write a letter home. Her eyes burned. It wouldn’t hurt to do that in the morning. 

It had been a long night, after all.

[cc-tens]

please yap about whistle and caddy, tell me about the coruscant guard medbay! especially how whistle had to adapt after being on the front lines, how is the coruscant guard different especially with medical stuff?

Ohhh anon, you are my best friend right now because boy oh boy do I have thoughts about Whistle and Caddy.

So in this version of the SW universe I'm running with, the Coruscant Guard have the same issue that they are depicted having in many fanon headcanons and stories: many overworked and injured vode and dwindling - if any - supplies proportionally.

Whistle is the Corrie CMO transferred from the frontlines, specifically he was once a part of the 224th Division as one of the Mud Jumpers. After an incident on a mission that only he and two others of his squad survived from, the result was a very battleshocked Whistle who now not only sported immense survivor's guilt; but also the incident left him with very scarred lungs leaving him easily short of breath and dizzy, prone to hyperventilation after physical exertion. His General, Jedi General Wyren Stoll - another OC - decided to have him reassigned to Coruscant as the Guard were in dire need of a medic and they also wished for Whistle to be in a - presumably - safe space. Also there was a bonus of Whistle's other batcher Hover being there, so the reassignment felt like a kindness.

It was extremely hard for Whistle to leave the 224th behind - especially leaving his remaining squadmates and his other batchers Daven, Heckle and Ziggy behind. And it was especially hard finally witnessing how kriffed sideways and back life on 000 was like, and all the things Hover had endured without ever telling Whistle or their batch. He's angry at their lack of supplies, frustrated and their level of tolerance for how they're kicked down and treated - not out of anger towards his new Corrie brothers but out of anger on their behalf. He hates how normalized it is that they're treated poorly and their casualty rates are so high.

Being a former combat field medic he ends up spending a lot of his time training his junior medics on how to deal with field work and despite his own battleshock, he has been stubbornly persistent he be allowed to take a team with him on the streets to meet an injured rather than wait for an injured vod to be hauled back to him. Commander Thorn worried if he had a battleshock response in public it could get him decommed, but he was very persistent - he has little regard for his own life or wellbeing due to the survivor's guilt and the fact his old squad's deaths came from a lack of proactive effort from other's so he refuses to do that to his new brothers.

He spends a lot, a lot, a lot of time trying to manage his symptoms and find ways to cope. It's hard with the amount of work he's got on his plate which is why Caddy becomes such a boon to Whistle. He's a real sweet vod, quick on his feet and sharp as a tack so he's of exceptional help with triage and managing crisis. If Whistle is the needle and thread keeping the Guard stitched and from bleeding out, Caddy is the balm and anesthetic soothing away the pain and helping them to cope. He also is one of the only vod who will relentlessly push Whistle to take a rest whenever his own health is acting up poorly as he knows his CMO often tries to ignore his own health concerns. Whistle is very protective of Caddy too since he's 6 months older than the junior medic and if Caddy goes out onto the streets for triage, you bet Whistle is also there no matter what.

They're best friends, a dynamic duo, and opposites in many ways. Whistle is hardened by witnessing the loss on the frontlines and very severe battleshock trauma, Caddy meanwhile has lost several of his siblings who are fighting on the front to the slog of the war machine and it tears him apart. It's why when the 212th touched dirt after Umbara, Whistle accompanied him to the Negotiator to meet Quips and for him to be allowed a moment to hold his brother's body.

[somereaderinblue]

Web of Morality

-AU where MJ’s part of the group since childhood, Gwen is bitten by the spider, the symbiote is discovered sooner & Felicia decides to commit a heist sooner; four small changes that made everything different.

-MJ’s part of the group as a homage to USM & to balance out the ratio. 2 boys + 2 girls but also 2 science nerds + 2 theatre kids, making Harry feel less left out.

-(TW: very brief mention of past abusive parent)

-I will not stand for love triangles. Thus, MJ & Gwen are close, practically sisters. MJ’s the one who taught Gwen how to vent via drums & Gwen’s dad was the one who arrested MJ’s dad when he went too far.

-Naturally, after the powers kicked in, Gwen told MJ, who decided the best way to deal with this is to become a hero.

-Gwen is reluctant but after Peter loses Uncle Ben (maybe she could’ve saved him & spare Peter the pain) & her dad has a close call (another one of many, will the next one be his last?), she decides to become Spiderwoman.

-MJ is her girl in the chair, codename Jackpot.

-During summer break, Harry follows his dad out of town while MJ & Gwen claim to be doing their own thing (re: getting used to crimefighting), leaving Peter alone.

-He’s wandering outside, trying not to think abt the bills Aunt May failed to hide when he hears a commotion in the alley.

-The rest is a blur but at the end of it, he’s nursing a nasty shiner & being thanked by a pretty lady in a catsuit. Maybe he’s sporting a concussion too bcz when she asks what he wants in return, he says a hot dog but only if she eats with him.

-Maybe Felicia landed harder than she thought too bcz she finds herself on a rooftop with the kid, trying to make sure mustard doesn’t get on her gloves.

-Instead of calling the cops on her, Peter comes back just to hang out.  A friendship is struck. One night, her grappling gun is damaged & Peter fixes it. The next night, he shows her a notebook full of gadget ideas.

-When someone tries to mug Peter, Felicia saves him if only so she could put his ass through basic training. It takes a lot of coaxing but soon, Peter & her have parkour races across rooftops.

-(If she lets Peter win a few, that’s for her to know.)

-Summer ends, school starts & Vulture strikes.

-Since Peter isn’t Spiderman, he has the time & space to question Vulture's vendetta against Norman. Gwen offhandedly mentions his ‘stealing my work’ rants, which she totally heard from her dad!

-Either way, the seed is planted. This leads to Peter & Harry meeting Otto, who does a double-take bcz Peter’s the spitting image of his old friend, Richard.

-Otto still has lingering fondness for his dad & enough conscience to admit the meeting between Adrian & Oscorp.

-Another seed of doubt is planted in the group’s mind sooner than canon. This seed leads to actions that naturally bring consequences.

-MJ & Gwen are determined to uncover more dirt but they can’t tell Harry & Peter what they’re doing, so the boys assumed they don’t care & snoop on their own. Both pairs make different discoveries.

-Gwen bumps into Black Cat at ESU labs & accidentally releases the symbiote while Peter deciphers a file left by his dad, revealing his research, reasons for leaving....and dying.

-In this AU, the symbiote is more neutral. Still feeds on emotions, but not strictly negative ones. Gwen’s emotions don’t interest it since her civilian life is much stabler. So, it slips onto Peter at school.

-Peter seeks out Felicia bcz he’s terrified that Norman will hurt Gwen if he goes to her dad. While parkouring to calm down, the symbiote reveals itself.

F: So that’s where the alien ooze went. P: YOU TRIED TO STEAL ALIEN OOZE?! F: It was business. P: You- wait....OH MY GOD I’M WEARING ALIEN OOZE!

-Then Harry calls to tell him that his dad’s freaking out bcz the alien ooze is gone & oh lord, Peter is wearing said ooze.

-He should return it-

.

.

.

-Return it to who? The company that stole another man’s life’s work? The company that got his & Eddie’s parents killed??

-Hell. Fucking. No.

-Once, Felicia joked that he was her sidekick. Resolve set, he asks if she’s willing to be his mentor.

-So now Gwen has to deal with her usual rogue gallery & the anti-hero Venom who’s deadset on ruining Norman Osborn.

[tigereyes45]

30. aos mcspirk. its angst time, poor bones dealing with his idiots lol

This is from the angst dialogue prompt asks. 30 was:  "You're okay. You've got to be okay. You've got to be. You're okay. Please. Please be okay." I hope yall don't mind that I broke the quote up a little bit and shifted it around some. :) You can find the list of prompts here.

This story is also on Ao3. You can read it here.

Summary:

The triumvirate are trapped on a planet as animals hunt them down. Spock is injured, and McCoy is running out of options when Kirk finally returns.

Story:

Light green blood covers McCoy's hands as his nails barely manage to dig in and rip open the science blue fabric. Breathlessly he continues to repeat the mantra he began when Spock was still conscious. "You're okay. You've been through worse Spock. You're fine. You're okay. Please, you have to be."

It’s less grounding without Spock’s snarky retorts.

With a strip of Spock’s shirt, he presses it down on the wound in the middle of Spock’s abdomen. At first he was terrified that the saber had gone through his heart. Now he can see it had missed. Bones presses a white, cloth pad from his med kit against the middle of the wound. Shit. It doesn’t even cover half.

There’s shifting in the shrubbery. Leonard’s hand flies toward Spock’s phaser. The vulcan’s hold was tight. Instead of fighting to wrench it out, the doctor holds Spock’s hand up, finger pressed between Spock’s on top of the button. Purple leaves shift and shake as something pushes its way through. Brown spots are scattered around the ground. They move and shift as the orange night light shines through the moving, leaves.

If he were a soldier, Leonard would have fired. Instead, his body tenses up, waiting, one hand on Spock’s abdomen and the other around the phazer. If he were a soldier the first sight of yellow would have been shot clean off. A bald spot where dirty, shoved-up, blonde strands used to be. A nice shiner.

Jim better be grateful that he’s never been a soldier.

As the captain fumbles through the last of the foliage, McCoy drops Spock’s phaser. He’s up and racing towards Jim, as Spock’s hand thuds into the red dirt. The doctor turns back, quickly throwing out a brief, “Sorry Spock”, then he’s at Jim’s side. Arms out, catching the captain just as he starts to fall.

Jim’s knees scrape the ground as McCoy tightens his arms, and lifts the captain back up.

An arm loops around Leonard’s neck. Sweetly Jim mutters, “Glad to see you’re still in one piece Bones.”

Despite his nerves, a single, “Hah!” escapes McCoy. The tension in his arms eases as he takes the sight of Jim in. Kirk smiles. It pulls a smile out of himself. He could light a candle with just that smile, and this dark cave could use quite a few.

“That’s my line.” Jim’s other arm is stretched across his chest, holding his right side. There’s no red seeping through his golden-yellow uniform. Good. McCoy holds Jim’s arm on top of his shoulders. He rests his other hand on top of Jim’s uninjured side. “Just gotta get ya across this cave.”

McCoy carefully lays him down next to Spock. Jim pushes himself up onto his knuckles. They drag up red soil as he scoots himself back against the wall. There’s red soil back on Earth. Leonard reminds himself. Some clay is red. It can dye the dirt surrounding it. Sometimes you get puddles or red water.

Even out here, trapped on an alien planet, who knows how far away from home (Spock would know), some things are familiar. McCoy crashes to his knees between Spock and Kirk. He lifts Jim’s shirt to see an all too common sight. A giant bruise covers his side. Leonard blinks away sweat. He wills his body to cool off, as he feels around for the medical tricorder. Brown eyes trained on Jim’s side. “Got any other wounds I should know about?”

“None, doc.” Jim’s waving him off. When McCoy makes no effort to move from his side, Kirk pushes his shoulder away. “So focus on Spock.”

“Jim you come stumbling in here and-”

“Bones!” Jim cups his face. “Look at Spock.” It comes out like an order. Man does he hate it when Jim uses that tone. It’s one that expresses no room for argument. Focus up, buckle down, and get the job done, as if looking after him wasn’t his damn job.

Leonard twists his body to look back at Spock. The cloth patch is still lying where he dropped it. Blood is seeping through the wound right past the patch. In fact the bottom of it, was the only part that had sucked up any of this mess at all.

Damn it! Of course it hasn’t stopped. What, he presses his hand over the wound for five seconds while half blind with fear, and that’s enough. All those years of medical school, and he lets his judgment get clouded right when Spock needs him most. Finding a bruise on Jim Kirk is like finding red in a bowl of skittles. He should have kept a closer eye.

Bones wants to run a hand through his hair. He wants to clench it, and pull, threatening to rip out the strands as he thinks and centers himself, but he can’t. If he does his hands will be even filthier and running through the wild vegetation, past hills, digging through dirt, and working through blood has already caked his hands. There’s just a mouth’s worth of water left in his canteen too. Perfect.

Instead, he wraps the torn strip of Spock’s shirt along his waist. With one hand he lift’s Spock’s lower back up and pulls the stip under it.

“You keep looking like that and for my next birthday we’re going to have to drink to our good health alone.”

“I’d still have my eyesight.” The world can count on Jim running his mouth like it can count on a working clock to tick. “My hair thanks you.” McCoy’s hands steady. He’s finally able to finish the knot. Thank god for that mouth.

“Great job Bones.” Kirk sounds like he’s holding back a laugh. McCoy glances at him worried he’s gotten cottonmouth from something on this forsaken planet. Instead Jim’s smile. His eyes are half-lidded, but he was out of breath when he made it in.

Too bad rest is the one thing they can’t afford. “Stay awake Jim.” McCoy orders, as he digs through his medical bag for a second patch. Though he’d take anything clean to put on Spock’s wound at this point.

“I am Bones.” All that energy he has on the shore leave, or in the middle of a mission is back. “I am.” Jim’s smile shifts into a smirk, and Bones returns to looking for cloth. At the very bottom he finds a single, widespread bandage. It’s enough to cover the top half of the cut. Not nearly what he wanted but it’ll do.

With how often he has to make do with not nearly enough, he should be considered a goddamn miracle worker. “You’re lucky I’m still out here.” Bones mutters, as he rips the cover off the back. “After all we’ve saved Earth. Twice now. I could be off enjoying an early retirement on some pleasure planet with that kind of reputation.”

“You? A pleasure planet?” Jim laughs, and somehow that mockery is still comforting. “Bones you’d leave after a week.”

“Ya know I’d have a lot more energy if I wasn’t always saving you two!”

“Come on Bones, you’re way better at being a damsel in distress than us.”

That didn’t even make sense. Of course, he’d go with wit over matter.

“Bones.” Leonard rips the sleeve off his shirt. “Bones.” Delicately he pour the minimum amount of water onto the strip. “Bones?”

Careful hands gently press along the torn skin. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Surprise stills his hands. Brows furrowing, he looks up at Jim, unable to hide his concerns. “What for Jim?” He usually doesn’t start talking like this until his birthday.

“For dragging you to space.” Jim’s head bobs back hitting the wall. A somber look on his face. It doesn’t suit him. Sad looks like those never have.

Bones returns his attention to Spock. Once again he starts to clean the injured vulcan. Steady breathing made clear by the slight rise and fall of his chest. It’s comforting to see him moving. A still patient can be a gift, or a curse, and a silent Spock is eerie at best. He should be awake, should be picking a fight with Jim or himself, should be lecturing them on the rules they’ve broken, and the ways this could have been avoided.

Jim wouldn’t be so sad if Spock’s wit was here to challenge him. “I know you would have gone back to Earth after the Nero incident. Probably be happy somewhere down there.”

Where? Earth? Not a chance. That’s why he left it in the first place. Starfleet was the only option. Well, that’s not true. He could have gone anywhere with his skills. Starfleet was just the fastest way to get himself as far away from everything he wanted to leave behind. “I’m glad I’m here Jim.”

Kirk scoffs. “Yeah right.”

“I am,” and honestly yeah he was. Those years at the academy were some of the most fun in his life. Maybe everything on the Enterprise hasn’t been hunky dory, but it’s never boring. Jim’s there to keep him on his toes. Spock’s the easiest person to tease. “Who else would’ve been able to bring you back from the dead?”

Jim’s laugh is easy but stilted.

“Besides, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.” It wasn’t easy moving on. It never is. Jim and Spock made the transition a little smoother. From Earth into Space. From short missions to a five-year adventure.

From single life to sharing a room with not one but two assholes.

Okay, three counting himself, but he’s always been stuck with that one.

It only takes a handful more minutes to clean the last of the drying, green blood off of Spock. “It’s like scratching paint off a banister,” McCoy mutters. His blood runs cold. Silence fills the cave.

In a panic, McCoy checks Spock’s pulse as he twists his neck back to look at Jim. The captain lays unconscious, body slumped a little more heavily against the wall. Spock’s pulse was steady. His stomach settles, before jumping into his throat as he grabs the handle of his medkit.

 "Damn it, Jim!” Callous fingers runs along the tight stitching as they search for the one piece of metal they need. “Of course the one time your big mouth could save you, you go and run out of shit to say.” He runs the tricorder over the whole of Jim’s body now. Starting with that bruise. As it runs he mutters impatiently, “You've got to be okay. You've got to be.” It beeps. As he brings it up to his eyes in the low light he continues to pray. “Please. Please be okay."

Elevated levels of adrenaline. Not surprising, but also not great. Heart rate is declining, and his blood pressure is dropping. Okay. Not good but he should have a hypo to stabilize all of that. No poisons, no sudden deadly diseases, there are several other bruises on his body he had been hiding. Then it announces the culprit behind his loss of consciousness in bolded black letters.

He has a concussion.

“Jim!” McCoy shouts, forgetting about the group of animals hunting them down. He pulls out a hypo. Bones glances back at Spock as he huddles over his medkit, preparing the hypo’s concoction.

Quickly he injects it into Jim’s shoulders. He holds Jim by the side of his face, watching as the readings return to normal on his tricorder. “I need you to wake up Jim.” He runs his thumb along the top of Kirk’s cheek. “Please open those bright blues.”

But he doesn’t. McCoy’s left sitting there on his knees, pleading for Jim to wake up. Wishing Spock hadn’t slipped out of consciousness a while back. Alone in a cave that’s losing light, on an alien planet, with a pack of animals hunting them down, and no nearby natives to ask for help, or a way to contact the Enterprise.

McCoy drags Spock’s body carefully, closer to the wall of the cave. Once there he sets the vulcan down to his left facing away. He cradles Spock’s head in his lap. Then Leonard moves Jim so he’s leaning on his right shoulder. He wraps his hands around one of theirs each and embraces the silence. Out of habit, he starts to count their breaths. Jim’s always the fastest breather. Of course he can’t do anything slow. This time though, Jim’s is slow. Slow and steady. So very unlike Kirk, but the best he can expect right now. Spock’s is even slower. For every four of Jim’s breathes he counts one for the vulcan. They’ve got a good tempo going. One any band or orchestra could play by. Then there’s his own, and he’d be lying if he wasn’t hoping to lose count soon. It’s not erratic but far faster then it should be.

Fearful.

The sound of a powerful gust moves through the trees.

It’s the Enterprise. They’ll find them. Then he can save these two. With warm rooms, biobeds supplying all the data he needs, and access to all the best tech in starfleet. Any minute now and he’ll have them back.

Even if it’s only a comforting lie it's all Leonard has. He’s not as great at the whole lifting spirits with speeches as Jim. Nor can he use such an unerring logic to prove his points that no one has cause for doubt, like Spock.

"I'll never forgive you two if ya leave me here alone." In vain he squeezes their hands. Nothing changes.

[surveillance-0011]

If ur still doing the HOL hcs can I get some for Krubis and Creature? Only if you want :>

Ofc ofc!! I’ve been meaning to post more Krubis he’s my favorite. Creature is here too but I'll admit i have my biases and this is mostly krubis 🫣 tee hee. warning for low grade body horror

Krubis:

Nonbinary. Predominantly he/him but fine with the occasional they or she. Butch Lesbian. To me. To me. Idk if anyone will see what I see here but this is all I see.

Helmet can come off. I'm assuming the drill and energy/jet pack can come off for the sake of maintenance and whatnot but it's a hassle and his hand is legit gone

I mean he's got other helmets in his office?? but meanwhile he's apparently worn the same sort of stuff for like 20 years (painting/photo in the mansion) and i feel like most of the dialogue points to it not being removable but Im. not sure if im convinced there. It also acts like he doesn't have a spare hand so. idk.im sure he could take off the drill and engine pack in case repairs r necessary. but ig he just doesn't for one reason or another

probably bc he's stupid and stubborn and holding out for a chance to tear someone apart. too bad he's only really tearing apart his own work

That and i'm sure atp it's all low grade cyborg stuff. The green bit the drill attaches to is embedded in his arm and i'm sure there's ports and plates n wires all up somewhere in him where everything attaches.

In and out of sobriety. He's. Not really sober atp but he was trying and I'm sure he still said so that he wouldn't get dragged back into full throttle addiction and so garm wouldn't get on his case abt stuff. too bad most people can see right through his lie.

Smokes too. Smells like space weed, dead furgle, dirt and sweat most of the time. Doesn't really drink though.

Got sober after a while of dating his wife, really got serious abt it after marriage + once his workload increased. Fell back into old habits once. yknow. all that. And he fell hard. Beforehand it got bad sometimes but after everything it was less of a bad habit and basically the only way he'd even feel close to alright.

Total cheapskate, lifelong haggler. If he can’t steal it or get it for free/cheap he won’t buy it. Also a bit of a hoarder, takes all sorts of freebees and scrounges up scrap material n junk that he thinks he'll get around to using for something later

Spiteful lil bastard. Feels entitled to much more than he’s got generally but is especially pissy about his space on the ladder rung. Envious of most others. Will never NOT complain about something.

Not conniving enough to work out some brilliant plan of sabotage but he's certainly a bully who has knocked others down a peg and screwed up what he can to get what he wants.

Weak in comparison to the other officers, and generally out of shape/rusty, but he’s still relatively strong and can hold his own. Definitely stronger and more durable than humans and other common alien species, even if it’s not by much. A bit sickly from piss poor sleep and eating habits.

Minimal combat training but he fought a lot in his youth and isn’t totally helpless. Certainly not happy with how the others seem to ignore all this and regard him as the weakest link. Even if it may or may not be true.

Violence is not the answer it's a question and if you're dealing with someone who has nothing to give you the answer is of fucking course. cleans moplet guts off his drills, shoes and Gus daily.

Not the brightest, certainly not as "brilliant" as some of the others but he wasn't born yesterday either. Street smart and he knows his way around.

Workaholic but work ethic leaves somethings to be desired. Certainly has spent hours just staring at his computer wishing he was anywhere else. Or bitching over the loudspeaker/hologram messages. Not to mention that he digs in to the harvest a bit too often.

Also not very organized. Not a total slob but everything is "organized chaos" that is just teetering on that edge of even being considered organized

No free time these days but his "hobbies" mostly consist of debauchery and causing mayhem. He is rather handy tho, enough to fix himself up decently. Does not go to mechanic or doctor like ever until he's totally sure he can't do shit abt it. should really take better care of himself either way.

He knows he has a problem. He knows he has many problems. He just lacks any drive to try and fix anything. Like he's legit given up.

Sticks with the cartel bc it's all he really knows and he's holding out what little hope he's got. That and generally has that mindset that you stick with whoever's looked out for you and though what happened with Giblets and Garm's incompetence have tested that loyalty it's still been such a huge factor of his life

And he's mostly cool with Nipulon even if he's said some choice words about Garm around him. Really Krubis has some respect and admiration but doesn't get why he still answers to Garm. Hell he wishes Nipulon was in charge of all this instead!

Distant from the other officers but has a shaky...friendship ...ish? with Douglas and the Skrendels. He's very very jealous of both these parties getting what they get despite their incompetence while he works his ass off in his eyes and neither Douglas nor the Skrendels appreciate this mindset... but they do look out for each other kind of.

Closer with Douglas. As ive said before it's very weird and on and off but he just can't stay mad at Douglas bc he looks at him and sees his younger self. So if anything he's worried and would like to try and tell Douglas to wisen up before it's too late. I think they mostly mention each other in their dialogue bc it's wild that a g3 officer was killed and word spread like wildfire and YOURE HOLDING THEIR GUN TO SHOOT EM WITH more so than them necessarily being close but no one else seems to really care in this regard so i will say it's not like they're *not* friends or whatever. May or may not know what he looks like out of his suit. i'm between Krubis legit not knowing or keeping the half-open secret for douglas's sake.

As for the Skrendels. They want him to lighten up and Krubis wants these dumb fucks off his lawn and for Garm to explain why the hell these meatheads get so much of Zephyr. Eternal jersey-new york rivalry. But they're all from rougher walks of life and on the occasion that Krubis isn't stewing as deep as he usually does in his bitter envy for everyone else they can kind of chill together

I feel like of the three Angela is a little less confrontational or generally chill so he actually gets along with Krubis the best outta the three. Jonathan is charismatic but very brash and generally obnoxious and meanwhile Mona is pretty serious and the least social of the three. Jonathan is generally cool with Krubis even if he thinks he's totally cranky but Krubis finds him overwhelming and the two both get fired up easily so it's not the best mix. And Mona doesn't really like him. Mona does not like a lot of people.

His relationship with his wife was faltering before Giblets slept w/ her because of increasing disagreements. She found Krubis to be pretty headstrong even when he didn’t really know wtf he was talking about. In general things sort of just stagnated with Krubs workin all the time,, no communication nothing new,, etc etc.

But!! They were pretty happily married for some time, at least like 5-10 years. Sickening sweethearts at one point.

He was pretty pissed about the cheating and divorce (and probably said some things to her that he shouldn't have) but he was much, much more hurt by her death. In his eyes Giblets practically stole her away just to kill her and didn't care about who he hurt.

He was totally planning to kill the guy btw. Or at least ruin his life right back. Never got around to it. Bc paperwork

I don't know if he'd ever truly *like* Giblets but once upon a time he was willing to give the guy the benefit of a doubt and was even able to muster up some kindness. Certainly saw he was smart and figured maybe he'd just gotten a bad rap. Never Fucking Mind!!!

He's angry with her too, a little. But most of all he's angry with himself. For never being there. For not fighting harder to win her back. For letting her die like that. Everything that went down made him much angrier than he was beforehand (even tho he was always sorta like this).

Garm's patience was wearing thin. I'd say the feeling was mutual but I think Krubis was a lot more fed up. She... atp does she even respect him? Used to. Fears him either way.

Also Fucking Scared of Gurgula. No trust there.

Wears work + utility clothes, function over form all the time. Has a lot of promo/event sort of merch from whatever goes on at Dularmoland and the like that he wears for sleep or around the house.

Never ditches the shades. Sensitive eyes and doesn't want people to read him too easily. His eyes r pink btw. They should be pink. Not enough people in this game have fun eye colors.

very prone to freaking the fuck out. guilty of adult temper tantrums and being petty +immature abt stuff.

I do think he helps around Dularmoland. Def behind the scenes but checks in a lot when he can and has totally shown up and lent a hand. he IS friends with Ranchy just keeping some distance bc he's busy and trying not to fall further into addiction bc he knows Ranchy Is Not Okay.

Very very very loyal to the few he's close to. G3 kind of sort of counts.

Pretty good cook, for someone basically stuck making survival/depression meals 24/7

Actually kind of a total fucking dork. They've got a bit of an awkward goofy side to em. Moreso just awkward as of late they have not really had any fun with anything for quite some time but they are not immune to mischief and The Silliness. Kind of hard to avoid as a living Drill Man reference. Embarrassed and in denial that theyre kind of cringe fail.

Actually didn't mind Gus and while Gus totally hated them, they weren't too cruel to him. Besides using him to kill moplets and trying to convince him that everything they were doing was morally fine if not correct. Which is actually very cruel but. They were very affable towards him if you get what im sayin.

Kind of found the Gatlians cute and interesting in general. Not enough to be against what happened to them though.

I do think if he stepped back and saw the extent of damage that the G3 has done he would feel guilt but in the end he'd rather keep his head down and keep going along with things.

Creature (yes finally Krubis talk is over)

He/him but it's whatever. greyroace pan.

Gender wise. idk idk if he was born with that uterus or the Skrendels put that there but either way. Male.

Tries his damndest to be positive. It's not too hard bc he's been numbed to a lot of the pain but it still veers into toxic positivity ish sort of thinking.

Gets very upset when others are upset and gets VERY ANXIOUS when others are angry especially. Generally very emotionally empathetic but after all that time in a lab where anger usually lead to him being used more like a punching bag/gineua pig by the Skrendels that gut reaction isn't gonna go away

also just. doesn't like sitting with all these emotions

At least he usually goes the route of trying to see what he can do for people instead of totally shutting it all down but still not a healthy way to think

A little clingy but generally well meaning and tries his best to be kind and morally decent

he just wants some stability after all this time, man. he doesn't want his whole life pulled out from under him again.

Big catastrophizer. But also very it is what it is. shaking with fear on verge of tears hyperventilating saying fuck it we ball.

Lowkey v v numb but what he does feel is very overwhelming

cheese fan big on cheese i think i shall make some nachos for him

Doesn't like medical stuff at all. Still wants to watch Grey's anatomy

I think tv dramas catch his attention in general.

Knows the most abt Gurgula of the Gatliens though that's still not much besides witnessing the experiments he got up to and what little he's overheard.

Could totally tell you everything abt the Skrendels though

very much a tim robinson character. prone to shenanigans

ig we shall learn more in the comics but im betting the lost love bit is probably abt him in the blurb.

Also guessing maybe he was a part of the resistance or the strike force but was captured and mutilated beyond recognition

not sure how likely this is but i would not be surprised if this lost love turns out to be harper or something and they take one look at each other and say "yeah nah whatever this is is fine for now". though it's just as likely it's someone totally new.

i think maybe his OG appearance looked more aquatic? with fins and the like ? maybe he even had the tiny lil hands gus has

in a human au his head would be shaved to like a scrappy buzzcut in the labs and it would grow out over time. roots would show his hair is actually brown but it was bleached then, either before capture or by the skrendels for one reason or another

Of the group he's on the best terms with Kenny. Gets along with all of them though Gus and Sweezy wish he knew why they were (and still kind of are) mad at Kenny.

Also got some bonding time in with Lezduit before he went off with BH's parents. They take solace in the shared experiences of being lab rats to horrible people.

The other Gatlians have tried to fill creature in on what life on Gatlus was like. He was sad that he had forgotten everything and he felt bad abt not really having that same connection.

Bounty Hunter told him about Pikmin and he is enamored with it.

[agentark88]

Deku Comfort for Bullying ASMR Script (Deku x Listener)

I’m not sure how well this will translate over to Tumblr, but it’s a written piece. I thought that I would try my hand at an ASMR Script (Deku x Listener). Unfortunately, I am not a Voice Actor, so I apologize if reading it via text is a bit odd. Thought it would be fun to share. I always enjoy finding different ways to express myself through writing.

Summary: Deku has been looking for you for the better part of the day after you haven’t shown up to your scheduled study session. He finds you crying and pretty beaten up, but you refuse to tell him exactly what had happened, fearing that you would worry him. Deku brings you back to his room to help clean and bandage you up. He comforts you to help you calm down, but he also wants to find out what actually happened.

Setting: In the U.A. courtyard behind the dorm building, and then Deku’s dorm room.

 Deku: There you are. I tried texting and calling you all day, but you haven’t answered. I got worried when you missed our usual study session, but you were out here the whole time? What are you doing behind the dorms? O-of course, I guess you could ask me the same thing, but I usually come back here to train as it’s rather secluded.

[Deku gasps, and his voice grows concerned, when he notices you’re injured and were crying.]

Deku: H-have you been crying? Wait a minute, what happened to you? You’re scuffed up pretty bad, and is that… gum in your hair? H-here, let me help you up. Tell me what happened.

[Deku helps you up. Deku thinks you may be lying about what happened but steadies his voice to comfort you.]

Deku: You fell? I, well, it must have been a pretty bad fall for this to happen to you. Are you sure that’s all that happened? You can tell me. I promise it will be okay to tell me. We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to, but if you share what happened it may help you feel a bit better.

[Deku sees how shaken up you are and decides it’s better to move in doors than question you further.]

Deku: It’s okay. Um… I don’t want to leave you out here like this. Would it be okay if I patched you up? There’s a first aid kit in my dorm room, and I think I have detangling oil to get that gum out. We’ll go only if you’re comfortable. My training can wait, so don’t worry about me.

[You accept, and Deku’s relieved. His voice becomes more chipper]

Deku: Ah, okay. Good. Come on. Can you walk okay? Nothing feels broken, right? You can lean on me if you need to. I don’t mind. We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Don’t worry.

[Deku takes you to his room. He helps you sit down and get comfortable. He leaves to collect the few items, setting them down nearby. He’s embarrassed to hand you a plushy for comfort.]

Deku: I-I thought you might want to hold on to this. When I feel sad, it’s nice to hug something. I don’t have any stuffed animals, but I do have this All Might plushy. I-If you don’t want it, I can just put it back.

[Deku laughs nervously.]

Deku: You think it will help? O-okay. Good. Here you go.

[Deku starts sorting through the items on the desk beside you.]

Deku: So, I brought out a facecloth and a towel to help clean off some of the dirt. I found my first aid kit. It has all the necessities, minus some bandages because of how clumsy I can be some times. I also brought out the detangling oil and a few brushes. I wasn’t sure which one would work best for your hair. There are some tissues as well if you need them.

[Deku becomes flustered when you thank him.]

Deku: Oh, it’s no trouble at all, really. I’m just glad I’m able to help.

[Firstly, Deku helps clean your face with a wet cloth.]

Deku: It must have been really scary to have fallen so badly. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with that alone. I-I just want you to know… you can call me if something like this happens again. I’ll be there in five seconds flat, okay?

[Deku laughs softly, continuing to clean, going as far as getting behind your ears.]

Deku: Hey, what’s that face for? You don’t think I can get there that fast? Iida told me that the way I’ve been training that I could even be faster than him soon. I promise. So, you’d better not hesitate to call me because I’ll race there faster than you can say, “Plus Ultra.”

[Deku finishes by towel drying your face.]

Deku: Okay. All clean. Let’s cover up some of those cuts and scratches now.

[Deku rummages through the first aid kit]

Deku: Um, we have green Band-Aids or purple. Sorry I don’t have any ones with fun pictures on them. I go through so many that I’ve had to take what I can get. Which color would you like?

[Deku’s flustered by your answer.]

Deku: G-green because it reminds you of me? O-okay. If that’s what you want.

[Deku puts bandages on your face, carefully smoothing them over.]

Deku: I’m not blushing. You must be s-seeing things. Don’t laugh. Stay still, or I won’t put the bandages on properly.

[Deku finishes placing the last bandage on and retrieves the oil.]

Deku: Okay. That’s much better. Now, we can see that pretty face of yours again. Lastly, let’s try to get that gum out of your hair. This oil helps me untangle my curls on a bad hair day, so I’m almost certain we can get that sticky gum out of yours with it. It may take some elbow grease though. Let me just put some extra in the problem areas, and I’ll massage it in.

[Deku dots oil into your hair and massages it in.]

Deku: If you don’t mind me asking… I know you said that you fell, but how did you get gum tangled into your hair like this?

[You deflect again, but Deku doesn’t stop rubbing the oil in.]

Deku: I don’t want to pry. I’m just worried about you. I think I might know what you’re going through, and I understand why you wouldn’t want to confide in someone, but… I know it helps to know someone will always be there for you. When I used to “fall,” I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it with or be there to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I just want you to know that I can be that person for you, the one that’s there when things get tough. I want to be the person you can go to for anything. I promise you won’t be a bother.

[Deku picks up one of the brushes and begins working through your hair.]

Deku: I’ve almost got one of the pieces out. Should only take a few brushes through. Let me know if I tug too hard. I don’t want to hurt you.

[Deku proceeds to brush out your hair carefully. He does this for quite some time, until he can get out all of the gum.]

Deku: Almost… got it… There! That should be the last of that pesky gum. Do you feel a bit better?

[Deku pauses for your response.]

Deku: You do feel better? Good. I’m glad that I could help.

[Deku cleans up his supplies behind you, suddenly stopping. You hear him get really close to you again, and his voice drops down to a soft whisper.]

Deku: Please call me if you need anything. I don’t like seeing you hurt like this. If it helps, I can even walk you to and from your dorm. It’s no trouble at all, really. I care about you… a lot. So, I hope that you can rely on me when things get tough.

[Deku goes back to cleaning up, humming softly to himself as he does so.]

Deku: I can walk you back when you’re ready, or… You want to stay for a bit? Okay. I don’t mind. It will be nice to relax after such a trying day. Let’s sit together for a while. There was this new documentary about All Might that I was really interested in. Mind if we watch it?

[Deku notices that you’re still a bit distant. His voice shifts in concern.]

Deku: We can watch something else if that doesn’t seem…

[You start crying, and Deku rushes to you in a panic.]

Deku: Oh, no. Was it something I said? I’m sorry. Wait, you’re… You didn’t fall earlier, today, and you want to tell me who did it, but you are worried about what they might do if you told on them? You don’t want to get anybody in trouble?

[Deku holds you closer to him to console you, and he starts to rub your head, hushing you gently.]

Deku: It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. No, you don’t have to tell me right now. All I want is for you to take a deep breath. We can talk about it after you’re able to calm down. My number one priority is making sure you’re going to be okay first, alright? That’s it. Just breathe. In and out. Slowly. You’re doing great.

[Deku keeps gently brushing his fingers through your hair, calming you down and almost lulling you to sleep.]

Deku: You look so tired. This was weighing heavily on you, wasn’t it? Here, snuggle up against me. We can talk about what happened after you get some rest, okay? I got us a blanket. Are you comfortable? Good. I’ll stay right here. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Rest well.

[Deku keeps soothingly rubbing your head, and the audio fades out.]

[alwek]

Spiders In My Head: what to call it

I've been wanting to do these weekly ramble things more often. I tire of being beholden to the one format of "this started to document my transition" style, and more into train of thought, autobiographical type thing.

Of course, that means changing the name of it to something else. But what? I imagine you know, person maybe reading this, what I've called it. I still have to have the thought.

I fancy myself a philosopher, you see. I used to hate the idea of being something so pretentious, but I saw a three panel comic one day that completely changed my mind on it. In what could barely be called two sentences, and a visual gag, I was taught that philosophy is so much more than pretentious dick fucks arguing about who deserves to live and die.

A few years ago we got it in our head that maybe our thoughts are worth saying. Maybe we could write some kind of book thing that teaches... something. I don't know. What I think life is, I suppose?

In the summer of 2020 i was hospitalized after a mental breakdown. I was under watch for half a year, and came out with a DID diagnosis and a monthly check for being disabled enough (because it's a competition). I met lively, and lovely people there. People with struggles like me. Before one guy that I hung out with most days was discharged, he gave me a plant, in a shitty little hospital bowl that was full of water. I took dirt from the tree in the common room, and let it root.

It nearly died a few times in the months since, from my own neglect. Her leaves left dull and droopy most days, reflecting the vibes of her terrible caretaker. She clearly hated her old bowl now. I got a new pot. I replanted her at my partners house, which I find sort of fitting. We had a very off and on relationship for our early days. Things got steadier around that time.

Charlotte, the plant, started doing better after. Granted, I also started watering her more, and put plant food in the dirt after it got stale. She became so dark, so happy looking. My happy little spider plant.

I used to get small bugs in my room a lot. The door to the room I sleep in leads directly outside, so it was a daily occurrence having to get flys, and months, and beetles, and spider (black widows get smushed) out. I got fed up with it after a while and decided the spiders could stay, thinking maybe they'd eat the more annoying to deal with insects. And well, it worked.

I let certain corners of my room be spider homes now, and I've had less bug bites in my sleep since. Less bugs noticably in my room in general. I even saw a cutie lil jumping spider in Charlotte a couple times.

That made me think "i wish the spiders could eat the bugs in my brain. They deal with the outside ones so good, why can't they eat the brain bugs"

And so, maybe I lied in the beginning when I said you'd know the title of this little rebrand before me. This whole project, i guess you could call it, of mine is my way of trying to get spiders to eat my brain bugs. So I decided before I even started writing this, I'm calling it

Spiders In My Head

(No relation to cage the elephant)

Maybe someone will listen, maybe nobody ever will. But talking to the nothingness helps too. Doing it here, for me, for us. It helps.

[[Abreviated tag for these posts is SIMH]]

[talldarkandroguesome]

3rd of Hearthfire, Sundas

Having the girls home is such a delight! The sound of joyous laughter and shrieks of delight fill the manor in a way that makes it feel as though we have been woefully silent in these rooms for too long.

And enjoy it I must. Apparently Nabine was so furious about my not being there when she last sent the girls, that she almost did not consent to letting them come at all. The House managed to negotiate and agreed upon two weeks. TWO weeks! I only have half as much time as I ought to with my girls. My heart is so heavy. But I am glad for any time at all. I shall make the most of it.

I also got a response from Tel, they are looking to visit as soon as they are allowed leave, so we may soon have a very full house indeed. In a way, there is something lovely and exciting about having so many rooms occupied by those I care for.

Avon seems very stressed about everything, but I know he will enjoy it. He does so love our children. And I know he gets on well with Tel, too. If Plays-With-Fire is still in town then I am sure we can have a lovely game night. There will be enough of us to play some adult games once the children are in bed. That should help him to feel a bit more mentally stimulated. I know he has said before sometimes he feels like he has too many conversations with children and not enough engaging cerebral stimulus.

Our welcome party was a great hit and Sildras invited some of the children from his riding and astronomy classes to join. So we had children running all about and enjoying a banquet of food and games. I gave the staff a bonus for the cleaning after the party, knowing it would be particularly treacherous. But all in all the girls seemed to feel very welcomed. Kuna was a particular star with her boldness and natural leadership. Cariel is far more shy, but Kuna was not afraid to demand others follow her lead. And they generally were interested in doing so. She lead the other children around like a general with her troops.

The girls actually managed to sleep in today. I think they must have really tuckered themselves out with all the games and running about. Kuna even slept in her own bed without any issue. Cariel was in Sildras' bed by morning. I could not help but be proud to see how good an older brother he is and how much he has been taking care of her in particular. Kuna does not seem interested in having the brotherly support. She shows that she loves him, but she mostly seems interested in doing her own thing. She reminds me so much of Nabine. She really does take after her.

Usually I am happy for this, but despite having part of the garden closed off while the last of toxic substances is being removed, she decided she would prove herself strong enough to deal with them and I caught her just as she was climbing in there.

She refused to come back and jumped towards the pile of dirt. On instinct, I teleported between her and it and ended up taking a cloud of the stuff right to the face. I managed to keep her relatively out of it. She has a small upset of the stomach and her nose has been running.

The curse poison potion we gave her has her nearly better. IT has not done quite so much for me. I took so much of it into my lungs and Avon had a healer sent for. Apparently there is so much in there that they can only easy the symptoms. I cannot imagine what would have happened if Kuna had landed in there in my stead. She has not built up the tolerance that I have. Mostly I just feel very sluggish. My body is fighting off the effects as the healer comes and helps to move out of the tissue of my lungs the poison bit by bit. My breathing is difficult and my nose very difficult to breathe through.

As long as my daughter has learned her lesson and recovers, I am happy to go through this. Luayl, seeing my condition, has given me tomorrow off from my training. He says we shall see how I fair by Tirdas before he makes any decisions.

I look forward to having some more activities for the girls. Their lessons end and then they would spend more time with Sildras, but he has his riding and astronomy to practice. He has also asked to resume painting, now that he knows that Tel is coming to visit. I need to see what activities the girls may be interested in. I want them to get the most out of their time.

[bbgem329]

If Only You Were Mine… Chapter Eight

Pairings—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary

You’ve been in love with Bucky Barnes since the moment you laid eyes on him. That was five years ago, when your older sister brought him home for a Sunday lunch and introduced him as her boyfriend.

Warnings

MINORS DNI. 18++. Angst. Mentions of violence. Language. Readers family is shitty. Protective!Bucky. Nurse!Wanda. Pining!Bucky. Mentions of pregnancy.

Series Masterlist

—————

“You had one job. I understand why you did it, okay? I get that you were lost in the moment and you acted with your before you thought with your brain,” George huffed, hands tugging frustratingly on the end of his silver hair, “But this is our lives, James. You just put a bounty on all of our heads.” He threw his head back incredulously, eyes clenched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “All of them.”

Bucky stopped his pacing in front of the window to cast an exasperated scowl in his father’s direction before he was walking again.

Five heavy strides to the left, turn, five more strides back, repeat.

He was only half listening, cerulean eyes trained on the metal gate at the end of the long driveway. He could deal with a scolding later, after Steve has delivered you safely to him. Although he really didn’t need one, he was well aware of the consequences of his actions tonight.

“Leave him be, darling.” Winnie Barnes whispered, passing her husband a tumbler filled to the rim with his favorite scotch. “He finally stuck it to them, something we should’ve done a long time ago.” She sank down beside him, fingers brushing soothingly along the tensed muscles of his back, a tender kiss pressed to his flushed cheek. “Whatever ramifications arise from this, we’ll get through together.”

“If I may,” Natasha piped up, kicking off the bookshelf before making her way around the leather settee. “We’ve already got the ball rolling on a case against the Y/L/N.” She plopped down beside Winnie, both hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea. “I’ve taken it on myself and with the help of Sam we’ve built quite the case. The contract was easily approved for a void,” She shot George a sideways glance, blue eyes narrowing slyly, “But I’m sure you knew it would be, Mr. Barnes.”

The silver haired man raised a brow, chuckling slowly, “Of course I did. The contract was a mess—nothing but bullshit.” He nodded, grin falling solemn as his eyes flickered to the roaring flames in the fireplace. “That’s not what concerns me.” He slumped back on the settee, gulping back a generous sip of the throat burning scotch. “They’ll come for us. Y/F/N isn’t the man I once knew. His business isn’t as pure as it used to be.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, nails scratching along his trimmed beard. “He has connections to some very bad men and his own hands are stained with blood.”

Bucky interest was piqued.

He shuffled closer, brows furrowed, lip trapped between his teeth, and arms crossed over his chest as he stood beside the couch, eyes flashing from his father’s defeated form to the front window.

“Then we dig.” Natasha declared, leaning forward to place her mug on the coffee table. She straightened up, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m assuming you have dirt on him. Let’s dig up some more.” She glanced back at Bucky, apprehension crossing over her face and he gave a single stoic nod. “Things already don’t look good for him with the faulty contract—foraging Bucky’s signature and threatening all of you. We’re already a step ahead of them. We need to keep it that way.”

“I would also like to figure out why the fuck they treat Y/N like shit.” Bucky added quietly, perching himself on the arm of the settee. “Something must’ve happened or-” He shook his head, gnawing on his bottom lip as he combed his fingers through his hair. “You don’t just hate your own child without reason. She didn’t do anything so I want to know why.”

“Well, we don’t have much of a choice,” George huffed, throwing back the last sip from his tumbler, tongue darting out to lick the remnants from his lips, “But if we’re going to do this—go after them, we need to tread carefully. Winnie,” He turned back to his wife, intertwining their fingers before lifting it to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to her knuckles. “I think you should take Y/N and the girls north. As soon as possible.”

Winnie shifted nervously, spine straightening, lips pursed, and soft, blue eyes wide. “You really think that’s necessary? I don’t think we should be apart.”

“I do.” George mumbled with a frown, dropping her hand in favor of cupping her cheeks and placing a tender kiss to her forehead. “You have no idea what he’s capable of, the lengths he’d go.”

“Up north?” Bucky inquired, brows furrowed as he racked his brain for what that could possibly mean.

Upstate New York or further?

Would that mean being apart from you again? Because he would not stand for that.

“We have a cottage upstate.” Winnie replied, rising from her seat with George’s empty glass in hand. “We’ve kept the location discreet. A safe house of sorts.” She offered him the smallest of smiles as she refilled the tumbler halfway. This time she poured one for herself, needing something strong to take the edge off, ease the dubiety weighing heavy on her chest. “Just in case—for times such as these.”

“Why haven’t we gone there before?”

But before anyone got the chance to respond, headlights flashed through the windows and the sound of tires screeching to an abrupt stop resonated outside.

Bucky was on his feet and racing out the front door without another thought. He hurried down the front steps, eyeing a tousled, flush faced Steve as he hopped out of the driver's seat.

“She’s in the back.”

Bucky's brows furrowed further, the crease between them deepening with every step towards the SUV. He didn’t have time to question before Becca slipped from the passenger seat, tears spilling rapidly down her cheeks, gasping out choked sobs.

“What the fuck happened?” Sam hollered, rushing down the front path, meeting Becca halfway to guide her into the house. “Who did this to you?”

It was then he noticed the gash on the left side of her forehead, fresh blood trickling down her reddened cheek and temple, and he felt his heart lurch painfully in chest.

Fearing the worst, he broke into a sprint, rushing around the driver’s side to where his best friend was leaning through the opened door and into the back seat.

“Steve?”

“Buck, come help.” There was a frantic edge to his voice and it left Bucky’s gut churning and his mouth running dry.

“What’s goi-” His mouth fell open at the sight of you lying limp on the cold leather seat. Completely frozen as all too many feelings and emotions came rushing to the surface. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was shoving Steve out of the way and taking his place in the opened door.

“What the fuck? What the fuck happened? Who the fuck-” Bucky swallowed hard, inhaling sharply as he ran his fingers along your pliant body and up to your pale cheeks. It was then that he noticed the hand and fingerprints painted along your throat. “Oh my God.”

He lifted the back of your head, finding it almost impossible to breathe at the sight of you looking nearly dead. He’d think you were if it wasn’t for the way your chest heaved and lips parted with every stifled breath.

When he slipped one hand off the back of your head, intent on double checking your pulse, he found a layer of flesh blood coating his palm and fingers.

“Steve, what-” He growled out, anger swirling in his dark eyes as rage bubbled within his chest. “What happened?”

“We need to get her inside.” Steve urged, hands steady on Bucky’s trembling shoulders. “I’ll explain everything, okay? Let’s just get her inside.”

Bucky nodded, lip caught between his teeth as he ever so carefully lifted your body from the car, one arm beneath your knees and the other supporting the tops of your shoulders as your head lolled against his chest.

Wanda, Natasha, and Sam were gathered at the doorway, parting so that he could carry you in. He ignored their frantic gazes, words, and questions as he headed straight for the stairs. He didn’t think twice before turning in the direction of his old room, shouldering the door open, and setting you gently on the bed.

Wanda appeared beside him, already in nurse mode, and with a towel in hand. Bucky gently lifted your head, allowing her to press it to the gouge at the back of your head. He perched himself on the edge of the bed, taking your small, cold hand in his much larger one, and pressing kisses to your fingers as Wanda scurried out of the room murmuring something about ice.

He didn’t spare a glance at Steve when he entered the room, eyes trained solely on you, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. “What happened?” His voice was low and deep.

The underlying outrage was clear in Bucky's tone alone. Steve rarely saw this side of his best friend—only when it came to protecting the people that he loved. The very same he’d use on anyone who dared pick on Steve when they were still boys. Only now it was darker, much more menacing—a guarantee to bring whoever harmed even the slightest hair on your head, an grievous amount of pain.

Steve knew he had no other choice but to tell him, though he was afraid of how he might react. Not out of concern for Carly, she deserved whatever she got and then some, but for the sake of his very best friend.

Bucky would blame himself.

Spend today and the rest of his days, punishing himself for allowing this to happen to you.

All of this because he’d slipped up—had a moment of weakness, a quiver in his strong facade.

“It was Carly.” Steve admitted quietly, hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he rocked nervously on his heels. He witnessed the moment in processed in his brain, numerous emotions washing over his face.

Mostly anger in the tick in his jaw, an ounce of shock in the cock of his brows, and a whole lot of guilt swirling in his wide, blue eyes.

“She was on her when I got there.” Steve sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face, head tossed back to the sky as he fought to collect himself. A sight he never wanted to see again but would forever be engraved in the forefront of his memory. “I’ve never seen Carly like that. There was-” He took a deep breath, shaking his head, “There was no remorse, only hatred on her face. She was sitting on Y/N’s chest, almost bouncing on it, both hands wrapped around her throat.” He paused, carefully selecting his next words, “She kept screaming ‘You ruin everything… I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you’. Becca hit her head pretty hard, and was knocked out cold for a few minutes. She was still waking when I got there, just screaming at the top of her lungs.”

“What did you do?” Bucky inquired, voice cracking slightly as he ran his fingers over the inflamed marks on your neck. There would be bruises in a few days and the grooves from her nails would most likely scar. He cleared his throat, finally lifting his head to gaze at this friend, standing tensely across the room.

“I ripped Carly off her, tossed her back into the wall.” The blonde swallowed thickly, “Must’ve knocked her out because she didn’t stir. Not while I was getting them out.”

Bucky’s heart clenched for his friend. Steve was a great guy, the best he ever knew. He would never lay a hand on anyone, let alone a woman, unless he felt he had no choice. It was obvious it wasn’t sitting well with him.

Bucky was both sorry and thankful he’d done it for you.

Steve had saved you.

Bucky didn’t hesitate as he stood from his seat and barreled into his best friend, embracing him in a much needed, heartfelt hug.

“Thank you.” He whispered, patting and brushing his hand soothingly along the expanse of his back. “You saved her, Stevie. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for that. Thank you.”

Steve relaxed into him, arms wrapped securely around his friend's waist, grounding and steadying himself in the brunette's hold. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone but I couldn’t just let Carly kill her.” He sniffled softly, pressing his face into Bucky's shoulder, “She was going to kill her. I had to stop it.”

“You did the right thing, pal.” Bucky mumbled, tightening his hold. “Thank you for looking out for her. You didn’t have a choice and you did as I asked. She wouldn’t be alive if you hadn't.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Steve breathed out, shaking his head. “I didn’t know if I should take her to the hospital. I was afraid they’d come for her there if I did. And didn’t have my phone on me, I realized too late that I’d left it in Nat’s purse. I couldn’t call-”

“Hey, hey,” Bucky interjected when he picked up on the growing panic and distress in his friend's tone. He drew back, planting his palms on either side of his shoulders. “You did good.” He made sure to keep his face calm, expression sincere. “You did the right thing, okay?” He offered him a small, encouraging smile, giving his shoulders a light squeeze. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. You did exactly what I asked and more.”

There was a commotion outside, pulling the two apart before Becca burst through the door. Her eyes were wild, frantically scanning the length of the room. A throw blanket hung over her trembling shoulders, her chest was rising and falling with panicked breaths, and a bandage taped over the wound on her head.

Wanda and Winnie appeared behind her in the doorway, attempting to coax her from the room.

“The doctor will be here soon, darling.” Winnie tried, slipping a hand down her arm, tugging her gently towards the door. “He’ll take care of both of you—clean your injuries and check you over.”

“Why don’t we change out of your dress? Hmm?” Wanda offered softly, rubbing a hand down her back, “Get into something a bit more comfortable?”

When she laid eyes on you, she made to move towards the bed but was hindered by Bucky as he pulled her into his chest.

“Let me go.” She hissed, wiggling in his tight hold. “Let me go. Let me see her.”

“Not until you calm down. What’s going on?” Bucky breathed out, cradling the back of her head as she began to cry again, “Y/N will be okay. The doctor will make sure of it.”

“You don’t get it.” She choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks. She stopped struggling in his embrace, falling limply against his chest, her tears soaking his dress shirt. “I should’ve known. I should’ve helped.”

“It’s not your fault, Becca.” Bucky assured her, combing his fingers through the ends of her hair.

Something he used to do to sooth her when she was little. During those times she’d wake him in the dead of the night because she couldn’t sleep. He’d allow her to slip in beside him in his twin size bed and play with her long dark hair until she fell back asleep.

“No one expected Carly to react like that. You couldn’t have known.”

“Y/N pushed me behind her.” Becca sobbed, body shaking furiously against his. “She… When Carly lunged it sent me flying back and I hit the head on the corner of Y/N’s desk.” She whimpered, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath, gasping between each word. “If Steve—if he hadn’t come, she would’ve died because I didn’t have the chance to stop her. I couldn’t have stopped her. My head-”

“Shhh.” Bucky shushed her, rocking her from side to side in an attempt to sooth her. Her cries heightened when she talked, her side of the story could wait until she was calm. She was inconsolable right now. Far too wound up and the trauma too fresh. “You’re okay. You’re both safe now.”

“I was a coward and-” Becca froze, lifting her head from where it rested on his chest. Sentiments filled with horror as she gazed up at him. Her mouth opened and closed, the grip on his shirt faltering as what seemed to be a terrifying realization poured over her. “Oh my god.”

“What?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, dread pooling in his belly over such a sudden change in her demeanor. He’d never seen his sister act like this. The look she was giving him sent shivers racing up his spine and his blood running cold as a million possibilities raced vigorously through his mind. “What is it?”

“She was-” Becca gulped, face paling significantly, “Y/N hasn’t been feeling good.”

Bucky raised a brow, tongue darting out to lick anxiously along his lips. Waiting impatiently for her to continue.

“For a few weeks now.” She stuttered out, eyes wide as they flickered to your unconscious form on the bed. “Since you both, ya know.”

“Get to the point, Becca.” Bucky prompted, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t at all sure what Becca was getting at but if her reaction was any indication, it wasn’t good. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and anxiety building rapidly throughout the front of his chest and stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“I think-” Becca swallowed harshly, fresh tears springing in her swollen eyes, “I think Y/N is pregnant.”

Bucky stumbled back like he’d been slapped clean across the face. Face paling ever so slightly as the revelation reached his ears.

“What?” He managed out, bracing himself on the edge of his old dresser, hands pressed firmly to the dark wood, and head hung in defeat. He took shallow, shaky breaths willing his heart to steady and slow its rapid, quick thumping within the cavity in his chest.

“I think she’s pregnant.” Becca replied, louder and more sure this time.

And just like that Bucky’s whole world turned upside down and inside out.

—————

Bucky sat on the floor across from his bedroom door, back pressed against the painted gray wall. He’d been sitting there for over an hour, waiting patiently for the doctor to finish up his assessment. Glaring heavily at a piece of wood that separated him from you, because if he stared hard enough maybe it would splinter into two and show him you.

I think Y/N is pregnant.

He turned the words over in his head for what seemed like the millionth times. His mind was a muddled mess over the admission. Running through every possibility, whether it could be true.

Thinking back now, to that unforgettable night, he realized he hadn’t used protection nor had he bothered to ask before spilling his seed deep within you.

The cognizance left shame and guilt rising from deep within.

It was injudicious of him.

He should’ve asked. Should’ve made sure.

The lack of consideration and responsibility made him sick, stomach churning distressfully over the thought of unknowingly impregnating you and then leaving you as he had. The notion that he’d returned to Carly, fully intent on settling with her, even if it wasn’t by choice and was meant to keep you from harm's way, leaving you heartbroken and possibly pregnant, had a new-found self hatred rising to the forefront of his mind.

Bucky had fucked up, and he wasn’t at all sure what he could do to fix it.

He wouldn’t blame you if you hated him now, wanted absolutely nothing to do with, and were perfectly content with never seeing or speaking to him ever again.

But he would try.

He’d do whatever it takes to keep you.

Even if it takes days, months, years. He would wait and he would fight.

Because you are worth everything to him.

He’d risk it all just to make things right, to have you by his side for the rest of your lives.

I think Y/N is pregnant.

Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped for this one day—You, the mother of as many children as you’d willingly give him.

But not now, never this soon.

It used to be a dream, forever out of his reach. Now that it was right in front of him—a probable chance to have exactly what he wanted in life, he wasn’t sure how to act or what to feel.

A baby.

A life made of half him, and half you.

It was just as terrifying as it was invigorating because this wasn’t the time, nor the place. In the midst of this chaos and trepidation, wasn’t what an innocent newborn should be brought into or raised within.

It wasn’t fair to either of you—his girl and an unborn child.

You both deserved better.

But if you’ll allow him, he would try his hardest to do you right and keep you safe.

Because the idea of losing you for good, allowing you to slip right between his fingers was a fate worse than death in his eyes.

And if you were really pregnant, carrying a child made purely from your earth-shattering love, he’d have all the more reason to pursue this fight against your family.

Now he had far too much to lose.

Bucky let his mind wander, indulging for just a moment in the idea of you being pregnant with his child.

Belly growing swollen and round, hips widening, breast heavy, and a natural glow glistening across your skin. He couldn’t help but crack the smallest of smiles at the fantasy painted in his head.

He could picture you now—a brilliant smile etched across your sleepy face as you rocked and soothed a tiny, pink, swaddled up newborn. Or a sleeping, drooling infant strapped to your chest as you moved fluidly around your kitchen, humming along with the soft music playing on low from the speaker of your phone. Or you chasing after a chubby, bright eyed, giggly toddler.

You would make a fantastic mother—from every kind bone in your body, to the purest of hearts, you were meant to be a mom someday.

And he’d be incredibly lucky to experience raising a family with you—considering it to be his greatest honor.

Bucky was pulled reluctantly from his thoughts as the bedroom door swung open.

He jumped to his feet, hand stuffed into his pockets as Becca slipped into the hallway, the door closing softly behind her.

A natural flush had returned to the apples of her cheeks, sentiments calm and at ease, and her eyes were no longer riddled with the fear and concern they’d held when he was guided from the room an hour and half earlier.

“She’s okay.” Becca whispered with a small smile running her hands soothingly along the tops of his arms.

Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief, head thumping as he relaxed back against the wall and the unbearable tension lifted from where it resided heavily on his soul.

“She’s awake and lucid.” She added quietly, bowing her head as she gnawed on her bottom lip, “But she isn’t ready to see you.”

His heart clenched at the declaration.

He wanted nothing more than to see you, talk to you, hold you. Make sure that you were okay with his very own two eyes and explain himself.

Bucky had a lot to expiate and mend, and he desperately needed to fix things immediately, but he understood your reasoning.

Although it hurt, he knew it was nothing in comparison to the pain he’d brought on to you. For the last few months and for however long before that, in the five years since he’d met you, he’d provided nothing but heartache and agony—countless let down after left down.

You needed time and at the moment he had plenty to give you. All the pain he’d inficilated and caused was far too new and fresh.

“Oh.” Bucky swallowed down his reluctance, nodding apprehensively, his own swollen lip caught between his teeth. “That’s-” He cleared his throat, “That’s okay, understandable.”

“She just needs time.” Becca assured him, and he found nothing but promise and certainty in her sentiments. “She’ll come around.”

He nodded solemnly, head bowed in shame.

“And is she…”

“Yeah.” Becca breathed out, struggling to suppress the grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. She’s pregnant.” Her shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug. “Around nine weeks, give or take.”

She’s pregnant.

A turmoil of emotions and questions flashed swiftly through him.

Fear, worry, excitement, hope.

He didn’t know how he should feel, what to say, or what to do. Where they went from here or what this meant for the both of you.

But there was one thing he knew for certain, he’d take care of you.

Bucky had a lot to amend for but he’d do it.

Whatever you asked of him. Anything and everything to earn your forgiveness.

For you and his unborn child.

—————

Tag list

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