#but it makes sense given that it's largely inspection work

[shadesofmauve]

Note: This harms the consumer like shrinkflation, but this is just straight-up fraud. The weights-and-measures office can't do jack about actual shrinkflation (when the label is accurate, just less stuff than it used to be). But you can damn well report fraud!

This is not an FDA or EPA-type situation. Big businesses and the wealthy that own them rely on consistent, credible measurements as much as consumers do, because they don't want to be cheated by their suppliers. Big business likes to undermine most regulatory agencies because they're trying to protect workers, consumers, or the environment, but weights-and-measures also protects business.

(That doesn't mean it can't have staffing issues; anyone can have staffing issues. And you may not see quick action from one complaint — if, say, the state is preparing a lawsuit, they're going to be collecting all the complaints and data they can as ammunition before going to court, which takes time. But don't assume the worst).

It might not be called Weights and Measures (California's is the 'Division of Measurement Standards') and it's almost certainly an office within a larger department (usually Ag), but searching for "Weights and Measures" + your state name should find it quickly.

If you find someone cheating, sic the state government on 'em. That's what that office is there for.

Shrinkflation

So, I found out a fun fact this last weekend!

Every state has a Department of Weights and Measures. One of their jobs is to make sure that companies are actually selling you the quantities they claim they're selling. For example, this is the department which tests gas pumps and makes sure they're really pumping out a gallon of gas when they charge you for a gallon of gas.

So....

If you happen to, just as an example, notice that your 1lb (16 ounce) box of San Giorgio spaghetti actually only has 10oz of noodles, and you weigh your other boxes of spaghetti to discover they run from 10 to 14 ounces but never the full pound they're supposed to have, and that's why you never seem to have enough pasta for leftovers the next day, then you can report that to the Department of Weights and Measures.

They will want to know where you bought the item, and then will investigate whether the store or the manufacturer is routinely shorting customers. If they do, they will issue a fine to the offending party, you will be eligible for a refund, and under some circumstances lawsuits may follow.

Now, I don't know the outcome of the complaint I just initiated, but they did not want to know specific receipts or times of purchase. Which is good for me as I didn't keep any of those things, at the time I just said "Wow, fuck San Giorgio" and switched brands. But this is still enough to get an inspector out.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Merry Christmas Everyone! (Mapi Leon x Reader)

Day 18! Okay I struggled today. I am really not sure I like this one but I didn't ahve enough time to worry about it as it is due out now. I'm sorry!

The morning air was crisp, and as you hauled a large bag full of decorations into the locker room, your breath clouded in the chilly hallway. You were on a mission. Mapi had mentioned in passing how much she missed the cozy holiday feeling at the club, and you wanted to surprise her, and by association her teammates, with a festive touch right in their space. She'd been putting in extra hours with training, and a holiday surprise felt like just the thing to bring some cheer to her and the team that you loved very much.

You had spoken to some of the staff members who had given you permission to carry out your plan and a schedule of where the team would be at every point that day. With everyone out at practice, you had the locker room all to yourself. Grinning, you unzipped the bag, pulling out strands of colourful holiday lights, tiny decorated trees, and a small stocking for each player, each one carefully labelled with their name in glittery letters. You could already picture Mapi’s face when she walked in, her usually calm and collected expression breaking into one of those big, genuine smiles that you loved so much.

You started with the lights, stringing them across the tops of the lockers. Each twist and knot took a little more work than you'd anticipated the tangles not easy to get out so you could string them up, but seeing the twinkling lights with the main lights off was more than worth the effort.

After carefully arranging the little trees on a table by the door and the massage bench in the middle, you moved on to the stockings, hanging each one up in the players' lockers. You took extra time hanging Mapi’s in her locker, making sure it was perfectly placed. You had made an effort to make hers that little bit more special, it had a little more colour and was bolder than the others. Yes, you were slightly biased, but she deserved the best.

In each stocking, you placed small treats you'd picked out earlier that week. A candy cane here, a small bar of chocolate there, along with tiny ornaments that represented each player's style or inside jokes that only the team would get. For Mapi, you’d found a miniature black guitar ornament, nodding to her love of music, and a mini football that had her laughing face on it, a custom piece you knew would make her laugh.

With everything in place, you took a step back to admire your work, feeling a sense of accomplishment as the room glowed with warm holiday light. You imagined the looks on the players’ faces as they walked in, you really hoped it would bring them all a sense of holiday cheer, especially with how intense the season had been so far. And above all, you couldn’t wait to see Mapi’s reaction.

Just as you finished a final inspection, you heard footsteps echoing down the hall. Quickly, you ducked behind the door to the showers, hiding with a grin as you heard the team’s voices getting closer.

Mapi’s voice was clear as she led the way. “I swear, training was intense today. I’m ready to just collapse.”

A couple of her teammates murmured in agreement, and you could almost hear the fatigue in their voices. You held your breath, trying to stifle a giggle as the door swung open.

There was a moment of silence as they took in the transformed room, and then you heard it, a sound that was engrained into your brain, Mapi’s loud, joyful laugh.

“Oh my God! What is this?” she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine surprise and delight.

You peeked out from behind the lockers, watching as the team filtered in, their expressions morphing from exhaustion to amusement and joy. Mapi’s gaze swept over the room, taking in the lights, the stockings, the little trees. Her eyes sparkled with that familiar knowing glint as she moved closer to her stocking, reaching for the tiny guitar with a grin.

“This is amazing!” she laughed, looking around at her teammates, who were all chattering excitedly and digging through their stockings. “Who did this?”

Stepping out from your hiding spot, you raised a hand with a wide smile. “Surprise! Merry early Christmas, everyone!”

Mapi’s face lit up as she spotted you, her mouth curving into a grin of pure delight. “You did all this?” she asked, a hint of awe in her voice as she walked over to you.

“Guilty,” you replied, smiling as her teammates gathered around you, showering you with hugs and exclamations of thanks. “I just thought you all could use a little holiday cheer after all the hard work. I know your schedules have been packed this December and I thought you all deserved something special.”

Mapi shook her head, clearly touched. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she said, though you could tell she was thrilled. “But I’m so glad you did. This is amazing!”

She leaned in, her arm sneaking around your shoulder as she took in the decorations, her smile warm and grateful. “This is perfect. You even got stockings for everyone?”

You nodded. “It took a while to find the right ones, but I figured each of you would appreciate something done for just for you guys to enjoy.” You gestured toward her stocking. “And I may have picked a few things that were uniquely Mapi.”

Laughing, she reached inside her stocking, pulling out the small custom football with her laughing face on it. “This is ridiculous,” she chuckled, holding it up for her teammates to see. “Look at this! She’s got me perfectly captured here.”

Claudia, nudged her with a grin. “Well, that’s exactly how you look after you score, so it’s pretty accurate.”

Everyone laughed, and Mapi playfully rolled her eyes, setting the little ornament on top of her locker like a badge of honour. She turned back to you, her gaze soft. “Thank you,” she said, her tone sincere. “This really means a lot.”

You reached out, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze. “You’re welcome. I know how much the team means to you, and I wanted to give you all something that shows just how much I admire that.”

Just then, one of the players started up a small Bluetooth speaker, and festive music filled the room. Within seconds, the atmosphere shifted, everyone’s energy reinvigorated by the cheerful decorations and the upbeat music. A few of the players started dancing, and Mapi couldn’t resist, pulling you into a twirl with a playful grin.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting to end my training day with a dance party,” she teased as she spun you around, her laughter contagious.

“Well, then I’ve done my job,” you replied, laughing as you let her guide you in a small, playful dance.

As the festivities continued, you and Mapi helped her teammates find the little surprises in their stockings. Each item brought a new wave of laughter, and you found yourself caught up in the joyous energy, surrounded by players who now felt like an extended family. Seeing them light up at each small detail, you knew it had been worth every second.

Mapi kept glancing over at you with a look of admiration and warmth that made your heart feel full. She nudged you gently, pulling you aside for a moment.

“You know, you’re amazing,” she said, her voice low so only you could hear. “All this it’s exactly what we needed. What I needed.” She paused, her gaze softening. “I don’t say it enough but thank you for always being there for me. For us.”

Her words made your cheeks flush, and you smiled, feeling the depth of her gratitude. “I’ll always be here, Mapi. You and the team deserve every bit of this, especially with all you’ve achieved together.”

She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, her head leaning against yours. “Best early Christmas gift ever,” she murmured, and you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of her words settle into your heart.

Between the music, laughter, and the festive decorations, the space had transformed into a place of joy, a reminder of how much love and care surrounded each of them. “I won’t ever forget this,” Mapi said softly, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of awe. “Thank you, for everything.”

You smiled, brushing a hand through her hair gently. “There’s more where this came from. I’ll make every Christmas with you just as special.”

Mapi leaned down, her lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When she pulled away, her eyes shone with gratitude and something deeper, something you knew was there but loved hearing in her own words.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth.

[strayrockette]

Haunting at Arrow House: Chapter 2

Thomas Shelby Masterlist

Masterlist

Summary: The mysterious door is finally opened and unfamiliar face enters the mix.

Warnings: Some weird sounds and touches from the resident ghostie woahstie, tension, rising fear and paranoia

Pairings: Thomas Shelby x reader

A/N: Another fic I can finally get rid of after almost 2 years of sitting inside my drafts and head.

—

I made my way to the kitchen, thoughts of last nights events playing on a loop in my head—the thumping noise from behind the walls, the cold that had seemed to seep up through the very floor, and that unmistakable scent of whisky and cigarettes that had hung in the air, long after I’d searched for its source. None of it made sense. I tried to reason with myself. It had been a long day of unpacking and moving in. My mind was tired, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar. It wasn’t unusual to imagine things when you’re that exhausted.

But the thoughts persisted, swirling in the back of my mind like shadows refusing to settle.

As I moved around the kitchen, making coffee and preparing breakfast, my gaze kept straying to upstairs, where the large oak door taunted me—the one Jake had pointed out was stubbornly locked. I hadn’t given it much thought yesterday, too focused on unpacking and settling in, but now my curiosity had been fully piqued. What could be behind that door? A forgotten storage room? An old office? The more I tried to push it out of my mind, the more it called to me, an unanswered question hanging heavy in the air.

For now, I shook the thought away and focused on the tasks ahead. The day promised to be productive, and after breakfast, I threw myself into organizing the rest of the house. Arrow House, with its high ceilings and large windows, had a strange beauty to it, despite the dust and the echoes of age that clung to every corner. By midday, the kitchen was neatly stocked, and the living room had begun to take on a cozy warmth. I had even found a place for the old typewriter Anne had been so spooked by. I set it on a vintage desk I’d discovered tucked away in the attic, its keys silent, waiting.

As I moved through the rooms, tidying, arranging, and trying to settle into this new life, the hours slipped by quicker than I expected. Before I knew it, the sun had moved high in the sky, casting long shadows through the windows. That’s when the doorbell rang, the sound sharp and sudden, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I opened the door to find Jake standing there, toolbox in hand, his smile warm and easy. He looked out of place against the looming backdrop of the house, like a spark of life in an otherwise forgotten world.

“Ready for round two?” he asked with a grin.

“Absolutely,” I replied, returning his smile. “I’m dying to see what’s behind that door.”

We walked together down the hallway to the oak door, its worn surface and heavy frame feeling more imposing now than it had before. Jake set his toolbox on the floor and knelt to inspect the lock. As he worked, I kept busy with small tasks, arranging books on the shelves and straightening the pillows on the couch, but my mind was elsewhere. My ears strained for any sign of progress.

After a few minutes, I heard the faint, satisfying click of the lock disengaging.

Jake turned to me with a triumphant look. “We’re in business,” he said, standing up. “Let’s see what this door’s been hiding.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed the door open. It creaked loudly, as if protesting the intrusion after years of silence. I peered inside, my breath catching in my throat. The room was dimly lit, with only a thin beam of sunlight filtering in through a small window on the far wall. Dust hung thick in the air, disturbed by our movements.

The space was sparse—a large mahogany desk sat near the center, an old leather chair behind it, and bookshelves lined the walls. Most of the books were hidden beneath layers of dust so thick I could hardly read their titles. The air inside felt stale, as if the room had been sealed off from the rest of the house for decades. The silence in here was different from the rest of the house. Heavier. More oppressive.

Jake stepped inside first, his footsteps leaving imprints in the dust on the floor. “Looks like it hasn’t been touched in years,” he remarked, running his hand over the desk. His fingers came away gray with dust.

I followed him inside, my eyes scanning the room. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. I pushed the unease aside, focusing on the task at hand.

We started clearing away the dust, opening drawers and sifting through papers. There wasn’t much to find—old invoices, receipts, and correspondences from the previous owner.

Jake’s voice cut through the silence, “Hey, check this out,” he called from one of the bookshelves.

I hurried over to find him crouching by the bottom shelf. He had discovered a hidden compartment, cleverly disguised behind a row of old, forgotten books. Inside, we found a small collection of photographs and documents. Some were of the house itself, its once-pristine exterior gleaming in the sun. But others were of people—people I didn’t recognize.

One photograph, in particular, caught my eye. It was a faded image of a man standing in front of Arrow House, his face set in a stern, almost grim expression. There was something eerily familiar about him—the sharp jawline, the piercing eyes. He looked so much like Thomas Shelby, though younger and maybe harder in some way.

I held the photo out to Jake. “Does this man look familiar to you?”

Jake studied the picture for a moment, his brow furrowed. “That’s definitely a Shelby,” he said slowly, “but it’s not one of the brothers I know. Could be a relative, maybe from way back.”

A cold chill ran through me as I looked at the photograph again. There was something about the man’s eyes, something that unsettled me deeply. I could almost feel them watching me, even from the faded image.

As the afternoon stretched on, the sense of unease in the room grew. I could tell Jake felt it too, though neither of us said anything. There was something about this house—something lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

Jake finished up his work and packed away his tools. “We’ve found enough for one day,” he said with a grin, though there was a tightness to his voice. “I’ll come back soon if you need any more help.”

I thanked him and saw him out, but my thoughts were still racing. The typewriter, the photograph, the hidden room—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle, but I didn’t yet know how they fit together.

That night, as I climbed into bed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the house was watching me. The silence felt alive, like it was listening. I pulled the blankets tighter around me, hoping the warmth would chase away the chill that seemed to settle in my bones.

But sleep didn’t come easily. Every sound felt amplified—the groaning of the old timbers, the distant rustle of the wind against the windows. Shadows seemed to shift and move on their own, flickering just at the edge of my vision. I lay there, eyes wide open, staring into the darkness, until finally, exhaustion began to pull me under.

Just as I was on the edge of sleep, I felt it—a soft touch on my shoulder, so real it jolted me fully awake. My heart pounded in my chest as I turned my head, but the room was empty.

“Hello?” I whispered into the darkness, my voice shaky.

No response. Only silence. The kind that presses in from all sides.

I reached out, my hand brushing over the spot where I had felt the touch. Nothing. But I knew what I had felt—it had been too real, too tangible to be my imagination. I sat up in bed, scanning the room, but all was still.

It took a long time for my racing heart to calm, and even longer before sleep finally claimed me again. And even then, my dreams were restless, filled with half-formed images of the house and its secrets.

tag list: @mysticalpandora @ultimatreality @lovecleastrange @watercolorskyy @rockerchick05 @lyarr24 @queenlondyn @sl-ash-er er @literishdegree99 @kimi01985 @literishdegree99 @psychadelichues @embystarr-blog

[featherlight-touches]

Just Relax

Cyno / Tighnari

a/n: a small drabble featuring Tighnari and Cyno <3

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

It had been an idle thing at first, a gentle hand stroking through dark, soft locks of hair, occasionally brushing up to the base of large fennec ears. This was all in attempt to soothe and comfort said fennec, just in the right way Cyno knew how to. He was even blessed to hear the gentle purrs emitting from Tighnari in reward for the task that Cyno had given himself, with a tail swaying gently across their legs.

Cyno had stopped by Gandharva Ville to visit the fox after a busy week of working on a case. Tighnari, who had also worked a busy week, was usually the one to soothe and relax the General, but Cyno had decided, upon inspection of how tired Tighnari had seemed, that it was the fox's turn to be spoiled this time.

He pressed a small kiss to the forehead of the dozing fox beside him, his hand not halting in their gentle strokes through his hair. Tighnari interrupted his own purring with a small hum of appreciation, snuggling closer to Cyno.

Cyno's eyes watched the night sky through the window situated by the bed they sat on, letting the lullaby of Gandharva Ville fill his senses. It was almost enough for him to doze off as well, but something piqued his curiosity. When his hand scritched ever so gently by the base of Tighnari's ear, he noted the sudden flinch that it caused. Cyno knew that Tighnari's ears were very sensitive but he questioned if he had hurt them or simply tickled them. He wanted to be sure, so with curious intent, his hand repeated the motion in the same spot, which earned another flinch and an extra reaction of what he assumed was a small snort sound.

Cyno chuckled before leaning closer and whispered into his ear. "Does that tickle?"

Tighnari responded with a small whine of frustration, his face burying into the General's shoulder to hide a creeping blush. "Shut up..."

"It's just a question," Cyno teased again, watching in amusement as Tighnari's ears wiggled and then ducked down to avoid further sensations caused by the wiggling fingers.

"Quit it," Tighnari's muffled giggles could be heard and felt on Cyno's shoulder. "You know that it does, you big lummox!"

"That's not very nice," Cyno feigned offence, his fingers rapidly dropping from the guarded ears to Tighnari's side and started to squeeze and wiggle there instead. Tighnari yelped and immediately burst into a fit of laughter, making an attempt to squirm away but Cyno's other arm held him close while he tickled him silly.

"Cynoho ... wait! ... cut it out!" Tighnari laughed, his eyes squeezed shut and legs kicking around in attempt to free himself from Cyno's grasp. It had been a while since he heard Tighnari's laugh, Cyno decided that he missed it and wanted to hear it some more, so he brought his tickling fingers around to Tighnari's tummy in a new attack. "CYNO! NOT THERE!"

"Why not? Is it bad here?" Cyno smirked, the teasing clearly feeding the blush that was slowly taking over Tighnari's face. "I'll .. haha .. bury you!" Tighnari cackled, his tail thumping against the mattress in betrayed emotion of how much he was enjoying himself. Cyno couldn't help himself and laughed at how funny the forest watcher sounded trying to be intimidating through hysterical laughter.

It had reached the point that Cyno was reminded of another fox trait that Tighnari had, and that was the sound of a loud squeak mixed into his laughter. Cyno found it endearing but took that as his queue to show mercy on him, knowing that that noise was just as involuntary as his purrs and it often embarrassed him. He also didn't wish to wake up the entire village with his tickle attack.

When Cyno had stopped, he brought his hands back up to gently stroke through Tighnari's locks, in attempt to calm him through his little high and for the squeaks to die down. Tighnari's breathing was calming down slowly and eventually the squeaks and left over giggles had come to a stop, which was rewarded with a small nip on Cyno's arm.

"Ow!" he laughed, it didn't really hurt, Tighnari would never, but it held a grudge and that much Cyno could tell. "Alright, I deserved that."

"Yes, you did." Tighnari grumbled before kissing the bitten spot better and nuzzling back into the General's shoulder. "I'll get you back for that, I hope you know."

Cyno chuckled again. "You always do."

[kasdan]

𝐸𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝐹𝑢𝑟𝑦 {𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 14}

join the taglist | series masterlist | marvel masterlist | ko-fi

a/n: i would like to apologize that this chapter has taken so long i have been working mainly on fics on my side blog atm and am trying to juggle this story and the other fics i'm writing so please bear with me 🙏🏼 i hope people still enjoy reading the story and that you enjoy the chapter<3

summary: you have to cut off your power usage and a visitor shows up on the bunker's doorstep

pairing: frank castle x reader

warnings: frank is upsetti spaghetti, mention of blood and dead bodies, reader and frank have another moment ‼️(they were cock blocked again smh), mild language, smidge cliffhanger ending (sorry)

word count: 1.2k

“How the hell did they know where we were?” I hear Frank’s booming voice from the bathroom where I’m washing off all the blood. He doesn’t give me much of a choice when we get back to the bunker, immediately ushering me into the bathroom to get cleaned up, even though he looks to be in worse condition than I am.

He tries to inspect my injuries, but I push the first aid kit into his arms so he can tend to his own wounds and not worry about mine. I’ve been washing off in the sink, watching the red-colored water swirl down the drain. Most of the blood on me isn’t mine; it’s from others that I need to scrub off.

I quickly rinse off the blood and change into the clothes Frank left outside the door before leaving the bathroom. It’s easy to find where the two men are in the bunker, given its size, and also where the loud talking continues.

As soon as Frank sees me walk into the room, he’s in front of me, tilting my chin up to inspect the cut. “Frank, I’m fine.” I try to tilt my head away, but his grip is firm, not letting me move as he examines my chin.

He doesn’t let go until he’s sure I’m not badly hurt, then walks back to where David is sitting at his desk. Wrappers and bandages from the first aid kit are scattered over the desk where Frank hastily patched up his injuries.

“The bracelet she has only prevents large amounts of waves from being sent into the air at one time, making it almost impossible to track—emphasis on almost. They’re apparently very persistent,” David explains, sighing.

“So my best chance is to just not use them?” I ask, uncertain about the situation since many of the men who came are either still bleeding out at the house or dead.

“Right now, I think it’s best if they’re only used when absolutely necessary.” I understand his point, but it makes me uneasy not being able to fully control them or work on them. How can I ensure they’ll work when I really need them?

“You can still practice with them, just not so much at one time,” David says, as if reading my thoughts. I nod slowly, slightly disappointed that I won’t have any more full-on training sessions with Frank anytime soon.

“C’mere,” Frank says, grabbing a couple of papers from the desk and motioning for me to follow him to the back of the bunker.

“Yeah, just leave me with the mess,” David calls out as Frank walks away, not receiving a response.

Frank sits down on the ground, knowing I’m more comfortable there than on the benches or chairs. I’ve told him many times that he doesn’t have to sit on the ground with me if he’d prefer the chairs, but he brushes me off every time.

He places the papers in front of him as I sit down next to him, wondering what this is about. He gives me a reassuring smile and slides the paper closer so I can see it.

There’s a list of words on it, each color-coded. “This is the list of the powers that were put into the system. They were all a different color for some reason, so we wrote them down as listed,” Frank explains. I reach out to pick up the sheet and survey it.

I skim over the list, focusing more on the colors than trying to make sense of it. However, I can't help but notice the word “time” a couple of times. My eyebrows crease as I attempt to figure out what it means. “What is it?” Frank gently asks from next to me.

I show him the two items I’m looking at. “What do these mean?” He leans in to see where I’m pointing.

“Freeze time and reverse time,” he reads from the paper. “Freezin' time is makin' everythin' around you stop and freeze in place. Reversin' it is going back a few seconds or minutes to an earlier event.” I recall the time in the house when Frank repeated the same thing but didn’t seem to realize it. Was I the reason for that? I glance back at the paper. ‘Freeze time’ has an icy blue color next to it, while ‘reverse time’ has a lighter green color.

“You don’t know what the colors mean?” I look up from the paper, surprised to find that we’ve grown closer, our knees touching as I look at him. He meets my gaze and visibly swallows before clearing his throat.

“Uh, no. They were never really explained in the files…” His voice trails off, and I look at him in confusion.

“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing his distraction.“Frank?” I say again when he doesn't say anything, and he lifts his head to look at me.

“I shouldn’t…” he mutters, sounding conflicted.

��Shouldn’t what?” I respond, but there’s no time to think before he tilts my chin up and presses his lips to mine.

It catches me off guard, and a small gasp escapes me as he moves his lips gently against mine. I feel sparks ignite within me once again, and I slowly start to move my mouth along with his.

A groan escapes his lips when he feels me respond, and he grips my hips, pulling me closer. I find myself resting my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as our mouths continue to move together.

My body tingles as sparks shoot through my arms and into my hands, causing Frank to pull back and look at me. I’m breathing heavily and notice my hands glowing dark red again, and I don’t understand what triggered it.

Instead of pulling fully away, Frank ignores the shocks and leans in to press his lips back against mine. I try to pull my hands away to stop hurting him, but his strong hold keeps me in place.

A noise escapes me as he presses his mouth more firmly against mine, forcing me to push back with equal force. He pulls me into his lap, our bodies pressed close, and I can’t help but wrap my arms around his neck and melt into him.

My body feels like it’s in overdrive, new emotions swirling inside me, making me want to stay close forever. However, the universe has other plans when a knock is heard from the front bunker door.

We break apart, panting for air. I stare at him, confused about what’s happening. His grip loosens, allowing me to slide off his lap.

David’s urgent voice comes from the other side of the bunker, calling us over. I glance at Frank one last time before picking myself up and slowly making my way to David. Frank follows, but I catch him glancing down at the paper left on the ground before he does.

“Do either of you know who this is?” David points to the screen of the camera outside the door. A woman stands there in a long dark coat. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t quite place it.

buy me a coffee ♡

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

taglist:

@sleeperthelazy @lunaticgurly @casa-boiardi @mattmurdocksstarlight @cherry-berry-ollie @givemylovetoall @maddiewinchester

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

join the story taglist

[dontnoticemelol]

Neteyam x Reader– Angsty Oneshot

Warnings: Mentions of death, does not follow the movie's plot. Majority of this is angst with a sprinkle of fluff only✨.

Word Count : 7, 8k words, oops

____________________________________

He had never liked the future awaiting him. From his childhood, he knew exactly what was expected of him in the near future : three simple things.

Become Olo'eyktan, lead the village– these, he had come to terms with. As long as it made his family happy, he was also happy to go along with it.

The third and final however, warranted quite the opposite reaction from him. Finding a mate.

It was not in his interests to settle down and build a family. Since, he had basically sworn his life to serving as a warrior in his village. He often felt as though it was his whole life, his only identity. A sad identity, at that.

On that fateful night he stood guard, not far out the village. Although his body wanted to plunge into a deep slumber, he stayed put unwilling to let it overcome him.

He adjusted his given rifle, the cold metal brushed up against his chest. His hands firmly held the gun and his finger hovered over the trigger, instinctively.

Tense shoulders slightly bobbing up and down, following his breathing pace. He rolled them backwards, neck tilting to the right to relieve the ever-growing tension.

The dark forest was unusually silent– too silent, the exact words he had previously radioed over to his father. His concerns were brushed over by Jake, who accused him of lying to abandon his post.

Even the animals within a radius could not be heard. Not. One. Sound.

Suddenly, a rustling of leaves alerted him. He charged into the appropriate stance and aimed his gun at the bush. With squinted focused eyes, his heart beat picked up its pace.

His face frowned as a drop of sweat was pulled by gravity. It slid in between his eyebrows and kept going. Seconds passed, until, the source sprung out of the foliage in one swift movement.

An arrowdeer– a harmless arrowdeer. A sigh of relief left his lips and he eased up, braids swaying about when he retracted from the stance.

The animal's glossy orbs stared him down and he stared back. With his upper lip curled in annoyance from the false alarm. Strangely enough he thought it was mocking him, but his thoughts were rationalized upon thinking of how exhausted he was.

It blinked and slowly turned its head to the forestry, before trotting away. He had to admit– he was slowly succumbing to the nerves. Whether it was the deafening silence or the humans threatening to ambush at any moment. It was making him skittish.

His lips pursed and his chest rose up and down in slow deep breaths. A calming exercise to convince himself that nothing bad would come of tonight.

What he didn't know, was that in the same moment his fellow warriors lay unconscious on the ground. All with fresh wounds of impact on the back of their heads.

You silently treaded closer behind the guard. At once, the barrel of your gun struck his head. You moved quickly to catch him and prevent him from hitting the floor. This was the last of them– the twelve guards positioned around the village.

You got out of your crouch, after lowering him to the ground. Inspecting your good work, you saw his braids splayed out around his head.

You breathed in a shallow pace with your arms by your sides. Unfortunately, the gun accidentally touched your black cargo pants. This action left a trace of blood behind. 'Bummer' You thought to yourself. You actually liked these pants.

You made your way over to recheck the guard points, your gun now tucked deeply into your holster. This mission was proving to be easier than you had expected it to be.

You took large strides around the dark forest with a confused expression, recalling the information from the briefing.

They had informed you of the natives' otherworldly senses and fighting skills– yet, you had knocked out the entire guard team. Their "otherworldly" senses had not once picked up your dangerous presence.

His ears twitched when they caught the approaching footsteps. Only, they sounded loud enough to be one of his own kind. Yet, soft enough to ensure that he wouldn't be aware as they advanced towards him.

He thought he was surely paranoid– it could have only been another warrior coming to take over the next shift. Or it could have been his father.

He shifted slightly with the intention to turn around, half-expecting Jake. Perhaps trying to teaching him a lesson on using his senses to his best ability.

"Don't move." The voice pulsated throughout his eardrums, stopping him in his tracks.

'A female voice?' He thought himself. He felt a gun's muzzle touch the back of his head, alerting him of the inevitable danger he was in.

He swallowed hard but to no avail, his throat becoming dry shortly after. He had to make sure not to panic– or this would end badly.

Behind him, her breath and hands were both shaky. She had to improvise with her mission now ruined. Taking a life was something she had never done before, so she silently wished it wouldn't have to come down to that.

With his assault rifle still in hand, he thought of a plan. A risky plan— but a plan nevertheless. He moved as slowly as he could almost at a tortoise's pace. Completely unbeknownst to the female.

Your hands secured tightly around the gun and your frantic eyes took in as many features of him, as they could. That's when you noticed the beads on one of his braids. You thought back to the images shown during the briefing. The target displayed the very same beads– toruk makto's son.

'Improvise' The colonel's voice rang through your mind. 'If a mission does not go as planned– you improvise.'

This actually made your job easier because the target was brought straight to you, but still, the mission had gone wrong. The original plan wouldn't work anymore. Therefore, you had to improvise.

"Drop your weapon, and put your hands up!" You ordered harshly. The last thing you needed was his loud rifle alerting the rest of the clan.

His head turned slightly to the left and he got a small glance at your face. His features were visibly defiant, you thought perhaps he was contemplating. However, he obliged fairly quickly to your command and looked back in front.

The gun fell to the forest floor with a small thud, no more than a few centimeters from his feet. His arms raised slowly next to his head.

With your target now defenseless, you moved closer. Gun still pointed at him, you reached into the belt bag with your left hand. The sedative came out with no resistance and you pushed the cap off with your thumb.

You took note of his ears twitching insistently in the midst of lowering your hand. Before you could jab the needle into his neck, he turned around earning a gasp of surprise from you.

Your left arm was yanked towards the ground by his right one. You fired the silenced gun in your right hand. A muffled gun shot sounded, aimed at his chest. He hissed at the sound which clearly caused his eardrums pain.

Your eyes widened when you realised he dodged it, as he came to stand behind you. Your left arm was pulled behind your back and painfully twisted. You thought of firing again, but obviously, he also knew you would try this.

A small yelp escaped your lips when he punched the gun out of your hand, injuring your wrist in the process.

A deep groan of pain left your throat as both arms were subdued behind your back, twisted by his strong hands. A sore, stinging sensation coursed through your shoulders. You were almost certain your left shoulder was dislocated, but the pain wasn't harsh due to the overwhelming adrenaline.

Without a moment to catch your breath, his knee collided with your lower back and you fell to the floor. amount of pain. Your lip was bruised upon impact with the ground and the metallic scent filled your nostrils.

Your fast heartbeat sounded throughout your ears. His breathy pants reached your ears as he moved around you, also tired from this encounter.

You squirmed in pain when your upper body was lifted by your arms. Your wrists forced together over your lower back.

You were in shock. He was all but too good in combat, even better than most of your colleagues. Your wrists came into contact with a rough texture. You figured it was rope of some kind, once he started twisting it around your bruised joints.

Face contorting in discomfort as your shoulders pulled backwards more. He worked fast, but apprehensively and not quite rough once he noticed the amount of pain you were in. You found yourself in a rare predicament– captured by the one you had been sent to abduct.

Out of the corner of your eye, the guns lay atop the dirt– mocking you. You huffed in mild annoyance. The grip of the rope tightened as he finished tying a tight knot.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp prick on your arm, your eyebrows raised in alarm. You recognized this as the same sedative you were going to give him. Your body began feeling limp, dark swirls filling your eyesight and thought process turning muddy.

You saw his presence crouching down next to you through your eyelashes. He was inspecting you and assessing the effect of the liquid. His head tilted to one side slowly.

Your eyelids became heavy. They fought with all their might to stay open, but alas, they couldn't hold any longer.

A high-pitched beep attacked your sensitive ears, followed by a short static. "Sir, we have a problem." His voice reached your ears. Eventually turning into an incoherent speech as it too, faded into the darkness.

As you came to, your eyes slowly fluttered. Struggling in a fight against exhaustion and gravity. A sliver of light burned your retinas, passing through the barely open eyelids. Senses came back into focus, your hearing was graced by a smooth hum. Lulling you back to sleep and covering you as a shield of comfort.

'Am I dead?' You thought. Expecting a response, but what you only got from yourself was silence. Your mind was simply too tired to deliver your inside voice.

Next, came your sense of touch and feeling. Arms laid peacefully over your stomach, you felt a cold sensation around your wrists that extended towards your slightly exposed belly. Your nostrils flared impulsively after picking up a scent of herbs and spices. Although it wasn't the time, the aromas reminded you of food, making you feel hungry.

Barely audible crunching filled your left ear. Sounding in a tedious rhythm of 'on then off' . It wasn't like something being chewed. More like... gravel being crushed under boots.

A small sting passed over your left shoulder, you jolted upwards slightly at the uncomfortable sensation. The humming seemed to be moving around from behind you.

Confusion filled you. 'What happened? Where am I? How did I get here? ' This was the final nail in the coffin that tempted you to open your eyes.

You scrunched your face in the process of peeling your eyelids open, the muscles stung. Possibly indicating that you had been out for a while. At first– yellow blinding light was all you saw.

As a few seconds went by the light was replaced with blurry colours of dark red, brown and deep orange. With squinted eyes, your eyebrows raised upward, as if to dial the focus into your eyeballs.

A small groan of mild pain left your mouth once your eyes slowly focused.

'How long was I out?'

Fabric hung far over your head, held up by a large log. Your neck turned slowly to the right, a plethora of pots and baskets filled to the brim with herbs. 'Well that accounts for the smell.' The same fabric stretched from the ground to the log which you had previously seen.

You turned your gaze down your body and noticed the rug laid under you, intricately woven with arrays of warm toned colours. You looked past your chest moving up and down, and saw chains around your wrists. A small glint of light reflected into your eyes as they continued trailing ahead of your body.

There was an opening in the tent. Outside, soft sunlight glazed over the ground and casted tree shadows onto the tent's fabric. Unfortunately, you couldn't see more in the position you were in.

You turned your head to the left. Of course, as you had expected more pots came into view. What was unexpected, however– was the na'vi crouched with a mortar in hand, grinding something with a pestle. Their dark red coat moving about on each minor movement.

'The mission...' You thought, as the memories came rushing back to you. Remembering the instructions, the target, knocking out the guards, the mission going wrong, until finally– the sedative jabbed into your arm.

They must have heard your moment of panic because their movement stopped and they turned to you. She eyed you for mere seconds before she stood up, and came to kneel down next to you.

Your body tried to move away on instinct, from uncertainty of their character. Your eyes a tad wider than usual. Their observant eyes followed you.

"I see you are awake... And confused?" She spoke up, her voice laced with a sense of care yet, refined.

You stared at her, until it clicked that she was waiting for a response. You gave a small nod. It only seemed like the safer option in this situation.

"I am Mo'at, healer of this clan—" Her words were filled with grace and knowledge of her importance. Unsure of what to reply with, you nodded again. "You were brought to my tent during the night, with a broken shoulder. I healed you." She said, relishing in her good work.

Another memory came to mind. The moment your face was pushed towards the ground and the most excruciating pain you've ever felt engulfed your shoulder.

With a scratchy throat, you managed to push out barely audible words, "Thank you." You swallowed hard after.

You moved your arms to your lap and were reminded of the strong chain trapping your painful joints.

She looked at you in silence, then replied with a firm nod. You watched her, thinking she would address the attack you had carried out the previous night. Not another word came from her mouth though, instead she stood up and exited the tent. Leaving you with furrowed brows and confusion written over your face.

Her voice was slightly incoherent from outside, but you could have sworn you heard her call out the name 'Jake'. You didn't worry about it, preferring to relax your exhausted mind.

'Why did she help me? Surely she knows about what happened...' Your eyes closed slowly, tiredness pulling you back into the dreamworld.

Minutes later, the tent's fabric was thrown to the side in an aggressive manner. The sound it made alerted you and your eyes flew open. Walking in, was Jake Sully.

Panic overrode you. You knew of his disdain for the RDA and as luck goes— you happened to be one of them. To make matters worse, you also attacked his son. You sat up, ignoring the stinging and reached for something. Anything to get the upper hand on him. Your fast assassin instincts came in handy when your body lurched upwards with a high velocity.

You got into an attack stance with a sharp stick in hand as he walked closer. 'Why on earth, would they leave a sharp stick right next to me.' You thought to yourself.

His face was etched with a mixture of seriousness and hardness. He slowly raised his arms, his hands flat in the air facing your form. "Hey, woah!" He called out calmly, but loudly. "There's no need for that." His eyebrows raised up.

In response, you ignored his small protest. Unwilling to let your guard down. You face was complemented with ferociousness and downcast eyebrows with pursed lips. The stick shook in your weak hand, afterall you were still weak from being unconscious for... however long.

He took an apprehensive small step closer, knees slightly bent to reach your eye level. "Look— I'm not gonna hurt you." He held his calm exterior, as opposed to your noticeable panic. Your stance had turned sloppy, sure to be ineffective if he were to attack . Your wobbly legs shook like jello.

Your breathing got more riled up with slight dizziness and nausea clouding your senses. "I'm not an idiot! I know you will attack as soon as I drop this stick! " You spit back. Holding the weapon as if your life depended on it. Well, technically– it did.

You heard him let out a small frustrated sigh, "I won't. I promise." He placed his palm over his chest.

"No! You're lying. I attacked your guards and your son." You shook your head denyingly. Your eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of your skull from how wide they were. Too cautious to blink, they were increasingly turning more bloodshot by the second.

He took another small step. At this, you jabbed the stick into the air. Aimed at nothing in particular, more as a warning. Or as you had hoped–a telling threat that you were not playing around.

"I know what you did, but– I just wanna talk." He countered, tilting his head a bit.

You didn't know what you were thinking, but in your ears it sounded like a true statement. You lowered the stick and stepped back to stand up straight. It remained enclosed in your hand though, just as a safety measure. He stood back to his full height as well, looking intimidating and determined.

He huffed loudly, "Okay, now that the situation has been deescalated. Who are you?" He stared dead straight at you.

Silence. You weren't in the mood to face the repercussions of giving away vital information.

He glanced to the side for a brief moment, annoyance visible. "You know, this is gonna go a lot faster if you actually cooperate– " He remarked and crossed his arms. You looked challengingly ahead at him. "So, I'll ask again. Who the hell are you?"

You contemplated, but gave in. "My name is Y/N L/N, I'm from the RDA." You practically forced the words out of your throat.

He nodded before speaking, "Okay. See, now we're getting somewhere." You twisted the stick in your hand. "Why did you attack us last night?" He continued. You knew this question was coming. Furthermore, you also knew if you revealed the RDA's master plan– they would torture you until you died.

"I can't tell you that. It's classified." You kept your voice as hard as you could and your face as cold. Not keen on getting your face read. A deep fear resonated inside you for the organization you were forced to work for.

He sighed. "Fine. At least tell me if there were more of you last night. Is it possible they're already looking for you?"

You thought for a second. As protocol, if an agent didn't check in after a mission, they are assumed as dead or captured. In such a case, if a report of their livelihood is known then a special team is sent out to assassinate them. A precaution taken to stop the spread of crucial information.

You shifted uncomfortably on your heels, an action surely not missed by Jake. "No. It was only me last night." You blurted out, and looked to the side. "I'm not too sure about today though. Another team could've been sent here already." You looked back ahead.

He nodded, about to open his mouth to say something. "So— am I free to go?" You interjected, unsure of their future plans with you. Kill you? Keep you locked up for more information? You didn't have a clue and it was killing you inside.

He had an 'are you serious' face as he debating on whether or not you were joking. "No. Not until you tell me why you were going to sedate Neteyam." He pestered on, motioning with his hands.

You brought you palm up to your forehead, already tired of this interrogation. "I already told you, I can't. It's— " You let out in exasperation and threw your arms in the air.

"Classified. Yeah, I heard you loud and clear the first damn time." He sneered and lodged his arms on his hips. "Better get used to being in this village then."

He was about say something else, but was interrupted by another voice. One which you oddly recognised. Which, made no sense to you.

"Sir!" They called out. You both looked towards the opening in search of the voice. The light reached inside as the fabric was thrown to the side. In walked your target with confident strides.

He frowned at you before continuing his speech, you could sworn a look of curiosity was in his eyes. You turned your sight downwards.

"There's a disturbance at the East guard post. It could be a serious threat– I'm not sure." He blurted out as he panted softly. Indicating that he was out of breath. Most likely from running, you guessed.

Jake nodded at his son. "Okay, I'll go check it out." He turned around and spared a look of distrust towards you. "Make sure she doesn't escape."

You crossed your arms over your chest at this statement. Neteyam glanced at you then back at his father, "Yes sir."

At that, he walked out in a hurried pace. The fabric sent a slight breeze your way.

It was now the two of you left alone. As expected, an awkwardness fell. You stared at him with squinted eyes and he did the same. With different intentions though, since— he was studying you. Trying to see under your false layer of fearlessness. His expression of scrutiny made a cold chill run down your spine in a tingly motion.

A bead of sweat fell down your forehead as you felt judged under his gaze. You had found Jake Sully to be intimidating, but Neteyam was intimidating on a whole other level.

Tired of his watchful gaze, you cleared your throat and looked away. "Are you... going to stare at me this whole time?" You looked back up and raised one eyebrow. All he did was stay silent.

Relief filled your senses when you finally, got a reaction out of him. Only– it wasn't one you had expected.

He chuckled softly. "I'm trying to see under your fake exterior." He taunted you. "You're obviously scared. I can tell since your hands are shaking and your forehead is sweating." He took a step forward.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You challenged back. Closing in on the distance in between, you also took a step forward.

The sound of him sucking air through his teeth made its way to your ears. "Sure you don't." He replied with complete sarcasm.

Your teeth clenched together in anger. Mostly from... being captured— but also his extensive reading of you. His eyes flicked over your face with the ghost of a smirk tracing over his lips. You knew he was aware about the fact that his assessment on you, was correct.

He took a few steps around the tent and stopped infront of some pots or jars- you weren't quite sure what to call them. He reached for some herbs, and grabbed the mortar and pestle.

You watched him in anticipation over what he was doing. A wave of dizziness caught up to you again. You neared the rug and lowered yourself down, your now adrenaline-dry body getting the best of you.

Your arms wrapped around your knees and you buried your face in them after. The stick now discarded on the floor.

A slow grinding sound began flooding into your ears. Your eyes were closing slowly, about to drift you off to sleep.

"Why exactly were you planning to kidnap me?" He asked daringly.

You took your head out from your knees, eyes instantly snapping towards him . He sat not far from you, which you found odd. You had tried to abduct him just the previous night. Yet, here he was acting all nonchalant as though you were acquaintances.

Your eyes wandered over him as he calmly ground up the herbs. His signature braids swaying about– just as they did, the previous night. You were sure his braids had a mind of their own, always moving elegantly and... enticingly?

The gravel-like sound stopped when he peeked up at you. "Did you not hear me?" His voice took you out of a trance you weren't aware of.

You thought back to the question. "I can't tell you. " You stated simply. His acknowledgement was a small tut, barely loud enough to spot. The gravel sound picked up again.

You returned to your protective position, but a thought was still lingering in your mind. It itched to make itself known. "What's going happen to me?" You asked. He stopped again and looked up at you. "Am I about to be killed?" You sighed in mild frustration at the level of vulnerability you had displayed to him.

His eyes showed a tinge of pity, it carefully peeled out from under his cold demeanor. "No." All at once, it vanished. Quickly replaced by the usual coldness. He turned his attention back to the grinding and added in some liquid. 

Your eyes stared him over, studying his hardworking figure. You were left confused at the pity he had shown you and the swift change he exihibited.

"They'll torture me if I tell you any more information." He ignored your statement. "I didn't want to do any of this— I was forced to work for them." You said with glossy eyes. He looked up at you and kept his thoughts hidden, but his face displayed some sympathy. That, he couldn't keep hidden.

You turned your head towards the outside when you heard two voices approaching. The flap opened with such fierceness and speed that you couldn't stop the chill that ran down your spine. In walked Neytiri and Jake.

She glared at you with a hard intensity. If this was a cartoon, she would have been boiling red with steam escaping her ears. "How dare you!" She lunged at you.

Jake's hand immediately pulled her arm and held her back. Neteyam carefully watched the scene as it unfolded. Your reaction not only shocked him– but it shocked you as well when you recoiled back in fear. This was the first time you felt unprecedented fear since you had been apprehended. Out of all the Na'vi you had encountered, Neytiri was the most threatening of all.

Of course, back at the base you had read her profile and learnt of her disdain towards humans. In your opinion it was completely justified, but being on the receiving end of it was spine-chilling.

"Neytiri, calm down. We won't get any info outta her if she's dead." Jake's hands wrapped comfortingly around her own pair.

A few tears fell from her eyes. Neteyam looked worringly at his mother. He had never seen her this emotional– her usually brave personality had chipped away leaving behind the rage and hurt of a mother.

You felt strange inside. Though, you weren't sure what the feeling was. Guilt? Remorse? Empathy? You figured it was all three nestling deeply inside your heart. Amongst all the people you had hurt, this was the only time you had felt these emotions.

"Maybe you should go lay down– cool off a bit." Jake guided his mate out of the tent with an arm around her shoulders. "I'll come tell you once..." His voice faded as they furthered.

Your hand flew to your chest to bestill your pounding heart. It didn't go unnoticed by Neteyam. Tears stinged the corners of your eyes as the emotions threatened to emerge.

He wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Why should he care whether you're crying? Afterall, you had tried to abduct him— and you were part of the RDA. Essentially, their mortal enemies. Still, he felt conflicted after what you had confessed to him. It's not like you had a choice– it was kill or be killed for you.

The toruk makto returned shortly after. He informed you about what was to happen to you. You would stay with the na'vi, under two conditions– you would inform them of everything you knew about the RDA and not hurt anyone else. Otherwise, your life would be taken, wasted as just another "bad guy" who got what they deserved.

This was a no brainer. On one hand, you were terrified of what the RDA would do to you once they knew of your loyalty shift. However, this was the best opportunity to finally be able to leave the organization.

Besides, you knew that a team would be sent after you anyways. So, why not?

You had felt no guilt about this job, yet a part of you still knew that it was wrong. You were like a puppet always following orders. Unable to make decisions as your own being.

A chance to escape had never once presented itself to you, but this— this was it.

—Few Months Later—

"How about this one?" His voice pierced through the silent night's air. You smiled back at him.

"Yeah, it looks good. It's beautiful..." You looked at him tenderly. You tried to seem focused, but he could sense your facade. The flower returned to its natural position when he let go of it.

He sighed softly and came closer. "I can feel your sadness. A perk of being mates– remember?" He teased you slightly and smiled.

His arms instinctively came to rest around your waist. Your fake display fell immediately, "What if something goes wrong at tomorrow's ceremony?"

"Like what?" His eyes glossed over your face. Solicitude splayed out on his features.

"What if they ambush us or something?" You replied as you shrugged defeatedly.

His soft hand caressed your cheek reassuringly. "That won't happen. But, if does– I know you will kick their asses."

You snickered at his humour. Despite the worst of situations, your mate always found a way to make it much better.

There was something bothering you though. 'What are they waiting for?' Certainly, they had sent agents to spy on you. So, the question at hand— why had they not assassinated you yet? You did your best to subside your anxiety and buried the thoughts in the depths of your mind.

You pushed yourself up and pecked his lips softly. To which, he returned the endearing action. Your hands became soft touches on his shoulder and torso.

"I love you." His soft breath fanned over your lips.

"I love you too, Neteyam."

Not in your wildest dreams did you predict this of ever happening— falling in love with an alien and one you had once tried to abduct. He also never predicted this of happening.

—Flashback—

The clan had given you a second chance, to learn their ways, to love like one of them, and to become one of them.

Your initial reaction to this was bewilderment. Why would they give you a second chance after hurting so many of their brethren on that night? Nevertheless though, you had no choice but to do this.

The first few weeks were full of hardship, adjusting to this new lifestyle was not easy. Everything was different: the food, the societal expectations, and the people. Most especially– the people. The looks they gave you were full of judgment and wariness.

It didn't take a genius to see that. You were used to noticing all of it, until one day they faded into the background. Long forgotten and replaced with your new interest. Beforehand, one of the clan's warriors had been assigned to show you their ways, and accompany you to the forest. But, on that day she had an emergency to attend to– so, Neytiri and Jake were forced to find another.

Only problem being, no other clan members had volunteered, they were far too afraid to even come near you. All but one— their son. Against Neytiri's better judgement, he offered to do it. Initially, Jake was also adamant on Neytiri's opinion. However, his hand was forced by his son's reassuring that nothing would go wrong.

You were shocked when he told you that he would be the one helping you that day.

Henceforth, there you were, walking alongside Neteyam in a drawn-out silence on the forest pathway. You couldn't quite make out what emotion was etched onto his face this time.

He wasn't sure why he had even offered to do it. It felt like a gut feeling that wouldn't go away, he felt compelled to talk to you. Regardless of your previous failed attempt to attack him.

The day was going quite smoothly. The sun's rays shined brightly over the trees, some managing to spill onto the grass. The lesson for that day was hunting, one of his specialities. Your first few tries at the bow were pathetic to say the least. It was seeming to be futile, accompanied by your frustrated sighs that you unconsciously released each time.

He could feel the annoyance radiating off you, so, he suggested you took a break. With this, a conversation about the art of firing an arrow began. Slowly it delved into other topics, such as your childhoods and what your personalities were truly like. Each speaking with lingering curiosity about the other.

"You know, you're not that bad actually." He chuckled after. You stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say.

You scoffed softly, "Aside from the fact I was literally an assassin?" You shook your head slightly. "I've done horrible things to a lot of people, Neteyam." The grass beneath you tickled the undersides of your thighs.

He responded with a faint 'hm'. Seconds later, he spoke. "I know but, it was against your will and you have been given a second chance."

You stared down at your lap in shame of your previous actions. "At first, my parents were planning on keeping you locked up." At this reveal, you looked up at him with wide eyes.

He nodded and continued, "Yeah, but I managed to convince them not to. I told them the truth— that you were forced into the organization."

You huffed quietly in disbelief. He helped you.

"I..." You tried to speak but was at a loss for words. A sigh came out followed by words of pure gratefulness. "Thank you."

As the day came to an end, you successfully hit the target courtesy to his useful advice. Your chest was filled with rejoice, such was his. Not only had you learned how to use a bow, but also the fact that you enjoyed each other's company.

The walk back wasn't a stranger to a conversation either.

Something you would never forget was the look of utter disbelief on his parents' faces. He had asked for permission to fully take over and show you their ways.

This time they argued back, reminding him of what you intended to do to him. "Neteyam, she is dangerous!"His mother's voice shouted authoritatively.

She shook her head in an angry manner. "Son, why would you even want to be near her?" Jake asked him confused, but with a less angry tone than Neytiri.

Though— Neteyam held on strong. He was very persuasive and made up a silly excuse of how he had better knowledge of the forest. It was true, but it didn't come from a place of wanting to help.

He wanted to get to know you better, he almost felt intrigued by you. You weren't any better either and shared the same sentiment.

You could only stand near them awkwardly as they argued back and forth. Unsure of what to do in that situation.

Alas, with his persistence they came to somewhat of an agreement. He would help you navigate the na'vi lifestyle, but you had to swear that you wouldn't hurt him in any way.

Over the next few weeks, you enjoyed each other's company, delightfully indulging in deep conversations. You also learnt many things about the way of the forest.

Whilst your guide was patrolling and performing other tasks expected of him, you got busy with other business. You would learn about herbs and healing remedies with Mo'at in her tent. It was beautiful how their remedies of herbs were able to fix such dire injuries. A change of heart began taking place within you. Your assassin nature was still present, but you now saw the beauty in the foliage and animals– and the beauty of life on Pandora.

He found it interesting talking to someone who was technically an outsider. It felt new, refreshing— exciting, and hearing about your stories on Earth peaked his interest. Soon enough, talking to you became the highlight of his day after he finished his patrolling.

On one particular night, you laid next each other staring at the stars. Your conversations were light, simply enjoying each other's presence. It was a beautiful night and as you took his features you saw the beauty in them. His personality also being as lovable as his exterior.

You were dangerous— he knew this all too well. Yet, he was attracted to it. It brought a certain thrill he had never felt before.

The conversations brought forth a blossoming friendship that continued to grow, as the weeks went on. A few sparks of requited romance lay hidden beneath said friendship.

The clan's attitude towards you changed quite drastically. Most of them eased up as they saw your dedication to becoming one of them. More so, as they began seeing your empathy for others make an appearance and develop.

This helped greatly in speaking to them and forming friendships. You spoke to Neteyam's siblings on a regular basis, finding solace in their fun speeches and jokes. With you and Kiri even becoming close friends, during the occasions of spending the day in Mo'at's tent.

His parents mostly remained wary of you. Though, you couldn't blame them. You were glad that Neytiri's grudge against you dissipated overtime, but she still kept her cold shoulder. Jake would greet you when he saw you walking about, since he understood your situation with the RDA. He wasn't as cold as his mate, however. Perhaps because he was once human too.

Thankfully, they learned to trust you overtime. Evident as you were sometimes invited over for supper sometimes. You were beginning to feel comfortable in this clan as one of them.

Time seemed to pass quickly and before you knew it, you and Neteyam stood before one another confessing your love. Your unbridled love for each other was full of tenderness and understanding. There was this... unspoken connection.

It only amplified on the night your souls became intertwined together. Under beautiful trees of purples and pinks, glistening in the light of bioluminescent insects. The air was chilly, yet full of love that overpowered all senses.

—End of Flashback—

The day was finally here, you were nervous to say the least. A ceremony was being held to officially welcome Neteyam and you as mates. It was a tradition for all na'vi who would become the future Olo'eyktan and Tsa'hik.

The revealing part of your bodies were painted in stripes of white and black. You remember Mo'at telling you that it signified something important. You just couldn't remember her exact words.

Wanting a moment to yourself to gather your thoughts, you told him to go ahead and you'd follow. He left shortly after a loving hug and kiss.

Your nerves were rising by the second but you did your best to calm them. You sat in your shared tent, astonished with the amount of change which had taken place in only a few months.

Your old life almost forgotten, except for the lingering fear that they would capture you again. Fortunately, you mate's previously spoken words sounded in your head 'That won't happen–'

And so, you sauntered on. You were met with different expressions, some excited and curious, a few were indifferent as they looked at you.

However, you cared not as you had built a resilience to the judgement. The clearing was adorned with green grass and vibrant trees that provided shade. There were flowers decorating the ground in many colours.

You locked your arm over his and together, made your way to the center of the gathering. You looked over at Neteyam' s family. His siblings waved and smiled at you. Their loud cheers made it apparent they were  happy for their older brother.

Neytiri and Jake on the other hand were smiling, but not too ecstatic. They didn't exactly flat out deny your relationship, but they also weren't the happiest about their son's choice for a mate. Still– it was his life, therefore they did their best to support his decision.

You both turned to face each other, a slight blush was on his face accompanied by a shy smile. He knew you'd tease him later as soon as he saw your sly smirk and teasing gaze.

Your hands were holding onto each other's as watchful eyes stared at the two of you in anticipation. With the bowl in your hand, you scooped up a bit of black paste and smeared it over his cheek. He did the same with his own paste.

The ritual was almost complete, all that was left was for him to smear it over your forehead. His hand reached into his bowl and raised up towards your head. You shut your eyes as true joy bubbled inside of you.

Before he could make contact with your skin, he gasped suddenly with hitched breathing. You opened your eyes in confusion. Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

The dark red liquid seeped out of his mouth as he slowly looked down. You mirrored his action and followed his gaze to his lower abomen. He removed his hand from his skin and underneath was a patch of blood. The source being a small hole in his abdomen.

It dripped insistently onto the grass.

Your mouth was ajar as you tried to process what you saw. A scream of pure terror sounded through the air. It was one of the clan members, having just seen the blood.

More screaming could be heard as they too witnessed the scene unfolding. The Sully's were confused as they hadn't seen anything yet.

Jake and Neytiri came closer to investigate and what they saw made them stop in their tracks. You were frozen in place, unable to do anything to help their bleeding son. His breathing picked up its pace, swiftly turning laboured.

His falling figure alerted you and you held out your arms to lower him, with the help of Jake. Neytiri fell to her knees next to her son as she cried out hysterically. His body trembled under your hands when you brought them to his abdomen.

You felt another presence besides his parents, next to you. "N– Neteyam..."

Your heart stung painfully as you registered the soft voice as tuk'tu'rey's. Your vision now blurry, you looked up at her getting whisked away by a distraught Kiri.

Lo'ak took his place next to his father, with his braids flying at high speed. Their pained faces could only watch as your mate struggled to breathe.

The effort to stop the bleeding was useless as it continued seeping from the spaces in between your fingers. By this time, majority of the clan had dispersed as soon as they saw the blood. They were afraid of becoming the next one to lie on the floor.

Loak and Jake's cries became muffled by the pounding in your ears. You watched in heartbreak as he tried to speak, but the blood only choked him further. It only shortened his time left on this plane of existence.

His skin felt warm under your touch, hand cupped over his cheek as you leaned in to his chest. You couldn't do anything to stop this– nor to stop the tears and wails that escaped you. The one person you had truly loved in your life was dying, and there was nothing you could do. Absolutely nothing.

You knew exactly who had done this— Colonel Quaritch. His intention to hurt Jake Sully had finally been enacted. Quaritch had been dreaming of killing Jake Sully's first born son, as he watched.

You were under the false presumption that they wouldn't be able to kill him if he wasn't their hostage. However, you were wrong, terribly wrong.

You pressed a feather kiss to his cheek, salty tears staining his beautiful skin. "I love you–" You reassured him and caressed his skin. This was the only thing you could have done for him in this moment. His death was imminent.

"No— No. No..." Jake final words to his son pained him further. He felt as though he had failed his son. The tears that came from him were uncontrollable at this point. He removed his hands from under Neteyam's head.

"Come on— do something!" Lo'ak screamed out to his father. His usually humorous character had fallen away to be replaced by a desperate brother.

A tear fell from your mate's eye and you saw his hand reaching for yours— but before he could hold you. His eyes closed.

His last breath tickled the side of your face. You looked at his now lifeless body, the feeling of emptiness soon filling you.

You sat back on your knees, feeling utterly hopeless. "He's...gone." You whispered loud enough for the two males to hear. Jake held his youngest son, this being one of the only affections they had shared since he was a child.

It's strange how such terror can bring people together.

Your hand covered your mouth as the tears fell one after another, relentlessly. Mo'at embraced her daughter in her arms to keep her calm, but nothing could stop the wails of a mother's loss.

You could see Kiri crying while she hugged her younger sister, careful to hide her away from the traumatizing sight. They stood a meter away, but the weight of what had happened still followed them.

You felt numb. Empty. Hopeless. Heartbroken. The only being you had ever loved with all your mind, heart and soul was gone.

No longer would you hear his beautiful voice and laugh again, or pepper him in kisses when he felt sad. His kind soul would be long forgotten as a thing of the past. The memories of you together would never feel like safe place anymore. They would only remind you of his painful death.

The leaves shook in the breeze, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had befallen this enchanting forest. It made you think— perhaps being sentient was the problem in life.

____________________________________

If you actually made it to the end, then wowwww I'm honoured🤭. Thank you for reading! ❤️❤️

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: dhr_advent (part 5)

dhr_advent 2023:

Teach Me How To Fall by sodamnrad - M, one-shot - raco forces offers to teach Hermione how to play Quidditch for the Ministry's holiday game.

Keep It Like a Secret by PacificRimbaud - M, one-shot - He regards her with interest, cool as the ice in his G&T. “What do you want?” On close inspection, he's a bit deadly. It's the combined power of self-regard, an open ear, and a cunningly tailored suit. Hermione wants— “An expiration date would be nice.” She suctions up the watery dregs and signals for more. “Let’s say I want . . . a year. Exactly one year of monogamy without the possibility of further commitment."

In Want of a Wife by ambpersand - E, one-shot - Through a few forced breaths, Hermione manages to settle her nausea well enough to slide out of bed, squinting at the bright morning light. The braid of ribbons follows her left hand as she pulls the curtains closed, a giant knot of silver and gold that won’t shake free. While she works on unwinding them from her hand and arm, she checks the papers, finding the signatures she hoped they would be too drunk to remember to complete. Unfortunately not. There they sit, sloppy and side by side. Her’s a little cramped and rushed, his a little too large and loopy. Her lungs squeeze tight. They actually did it. At some point between the first glass of nettle wine and the last bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy, it must have stopped being a joke. She’s still wearing her dress from the night before, which fits the messy carnage that surrounds her. It’s wrinkled and a bit twisted around her waist, but at least it’s not tossed on the floor with the rest of her marriage licence. The only thing missing is her apparent husband.

sweet dreams of holly and ribbon by LovesBitca8 - E, one-shot - The war against the Dark Lord continues on, but Hermione is stuck at Grimmauld Place with the world's most annoying house guest.

From the Journal of Hermione Granger by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L) - M, one-shot - Only one bed, rainforest edition. In which Hermione Granger goes on an expedition to Costa Rica in search of a magical (probably mythical) poinsettia with her insufferable colleague, Draco Malfoy, who she can't stop drawing. (It's not creepy, he just has good bone structure.)

Not What It Looks Like by eveningstruggle - M, one-shot - A hot, panicky hurt begins to throb inside her chest. This doesn’t make sense. Is it some type of horribly misguided practical joke? Revenge for shutting him down a few months ago? Or—is it a parting gift? A “so long and thanks for the memories, now I’m off to fuck someone else?” ”What—” Her voice croaks. She clears her throat and tries again. “What the fuck is this, Malfoy?” Confusion creases his forehead. “They’re photos of you.” She’s five seconds from bolting back through the Floo. “I can see that. Why have you given me two dozen terrible photos of myself for Christmas?” Or: Draco gives Hermione a Christmas gift.

Sounds Worth It by RoseHarperMaxwell - T, one-shot - The first time Draco seeks her out at the hospital is a crisp October day, which happens to be the six-month anniversary of her divorce. “Hello,” says Hermione, glancing up from her paperwork. “Draco. Can I…help you?” He’s well put together, dropping gracefully into the chair across from her desk without invitation. “Yes. I’m in need of medical attention.” “I see.” Hermione does not, in fact, see. This is quite unorthodox. There’s a triage procedure and rarely does it result in patients coming to her office. “Tell me more.” Five times Draco fakes an ailment as an excuse to visit Hermione, and one time he doesn't. D/Hr Advent 2023 🎄

Penguins, Pebbles, and Other Reasons to Pursue Unemployment by mightbewriting - T, one-shot - “Is that…shit? On my desk?” Granger doesn’t so much as look up from her mountain of teetering parchments at Draco’s question. Her hair: frazzled. Her frown: ominous. The energy in their shared office: frantic. “Penguin shit,” she says. “Specifically, it’s penguin shit.” [In which a penguin-themed mishap at the Ministry nearly costs Draco his sanity.]

O' Little Town Of Balsam Grove by inadaze22 - M, one-shot - Chaos comes to the town of Balsam Grove and wrecks Draco's plans for the perfect proposal.

Most Sincerely Yours by morriganmercy - T, one-shot - Harry has been certain for months that Malfoy is up to something. When Hermione finds a seemingly out-of-character Christmas card, she can’t help but agree.

Chaperone Chaos, Mistletoe Madness: A Yule Ball Tale by scullymurphy - M, one-shot - Professors Malfoy and Granger hate each other. They're also chaperoning the Yule Ball, where Erotogenic Mistletoe makes a timely appearance.

The Path Carefully Tread by HeyJude19 - T, one-shot - The nature of families could shift; shaped by time, trauma, arguments, and reconciliations. She saw how Draco warred with that now, how he battled his instinctual, youthful desire to please his father with his resolve to sever ties with someone who had hurt him gravely.

A Gentleman's Guide to Courtship and Caregiving by ChaosAndCrumpets - T, one-shot - An accident involving a quidditch bat has Draco Malfoy wishing tragic and irreversible misfortune on Blaise Zabini. But he'll leave St Mungo's with far more than just a healed nose; a newly acquired Godmother, an affinity for mince pies, and an inconvenient attraction to a certain Healer, to name just three.

Seasons of Liberation by Misdemeanor1331 - E, one-shot - Unmoored after the murder of his parents, Draco seeks stability in the Muggle world. The woman he pays to anchor him has an agenda all her own.

dhr_advent 2024:

if you ever want to be in love by Wanderingfair - E, one-shot - “How did you two meet?” Rolf Scamander is nice, companionable. She likes him for Luna. She doesn’t correct the implication as Draco slips his hand around her waist. She wants to say, we’re partners. We’re friends. We’ve saved each other in a million tiny, life-altering ways. “Oh, we’ve met in every universe.” A love story told through the vignettes of healing over many Decembers.

In Pursuit of a Marshmallow by Zeebee3 - E, one-shot - The room bursts into catcalls and whoops, but Hermione just blinks down at it. Charcoal? It doesn’t immediately compute. “You don’t seem surprised,” Malfoy drawls. “Have you been naughty this year, Granger?” Oh. Those bastards. --- Or, where a new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product is featured at a holiday party.

There's an Art to Pining by charingfae - E, one-shot - Hermione yearns. For love, for success, for contentment. Above all, she yearns for something—or someone—she'll never have. — Malfoy is everywhere. He’s in the way she takes her tea—black with a splash of honey, like he does. Etches and echoes of sweeping tendrils of silver-blond strands falling across his forehead, shadowing his cheekbones beneath the harsh afternoon sun. Long fingers that drum against his thighs when he’s bored. His sharp wit comes out on pub nights, and it’s a delight to see it turned on other people. To laugh with him. He looks at her sometimes, in those moments, and the secret smile he gives her is nothing short of earth-shattering. 

Wrapped in Ribbon by morriganmercy - E, one-shot - Unity is the theme for Hogwarts’ first-ever Eighth Year, including a reprise of the highly-acclaimed Yule Ball. Draco gladly makes himself a shining example of the effort, though, to be fair, he’s mostly only interested in uniting with his co-Head, Hermione Granger.

Sojourn by inadaze22 - M, one-shot - On a cliffside in Iceland, Hermione finds what her subconscious has been searching for all along.

Prince Draco Underground by PacificRimbaud - G, one-shot - Of her lover’s many faults and arguable virtues, he's never late. So when 8 o’clock runs into 10, 12 ticks into 2, and Hermione's third note of rationally tempered concern flies unanswered back to sender, she panics. “He's probably sick,” says Harry. “You both work in a hospital. The place where diseases live.” “When has he ever,” says Hermione, “failed to advertise a twinge?” Outside the Malfoy Manor gates, the grass is green. Inside the fence— “Go home,” says Harry gravely. “Go to hell,” Hermione replies. And because that is that, they plod up the drive and strain open the door to a landscape of ominous white.

A Warm Drink by Catmint and Thyme (Languish_Locked_in_L) - E, one-shot - Hermione long ago learned that the only way to take care of a problem is to deal with it herself. That's why she's determined to hunt down the vampire assaulting students at Hogwarts. Or, what's 8th year without a bit of blood drinking for Christmas? A Vampire Draco AU

Earmuffs and Other Unusual Delinquencies by ChaosAndCrumpets - T, one-shot - A Factual and Unexaggerated Account of the Numerous and Undignified Crimes of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. As told (in part) by Theodore Nott.

icebreaker by ninepiecesofcrait - E, one-shot - On his way out of the office for Christmas break, Malfoy accidentally grabs the horrible present Ginny gave Hermione instead of his own, unraveling Hermione’s plans for a quiet, relaxing holiday in a single, vibrating moment.

Christmas (Cracker) Chemistry by ambpersand - E, one-shot - “Christmas Crackers?” Malfoy asks, holding one up, then looks at her with a surprisingly warm expression. “Cute.” Hermione fights a blush. They’re no ordinary Christmas Crackers. She had George and the staff at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes whip up a special surprise for the Ministry—except she explicitly requested they be red and green, not gold and silver. It’s not that big of a deal. She’ll get over it. Tomorrow. Malfoy busies himself by helping to distribute several tubes on each table without request. It’s easy, working with him in a silent tandem. They’ve done it a few times on shared projects, holing up in her office or his, and quickly fall into an easy rhythm. Every time she sneaks a glance, he’s conveniently looking elsewhere. At the final table, he shakes one close to his ear. “So what’s inside? They’re light.” She hurries over to him. There’s few enough people around that the surprise won't be ruined if she gives him a peek, and the prototypes were perfect. “We’ll have to be quick.” A sly smile pulls at his lips, and he holds one end towards her. “On three?”

Smaller Acts by Molivier - M, one-shot - “You know,” she says, her voice a little too tender, a little too honest, “I’ll allow you to be rude to me. Just once. Tell me how you really feel.” He hesitates, his gaze dropping to her lips and then back to her eyes. “I don’t think you’d like it.” “Try me.”

In the Air There's a Feeling by eveningstruggle - T, one-shot - “Still using caffeine to bribe the local business owners into liking you?” “Doing my best.” He held up his copy of the card. “Has any person ever looked less happy about Christmas than this man? His idea of nice decorations is probably a fake tree and some dusty plastic garland.” “I opened Crooks’ Book Nook four years ago, and in all that time the DABA hasn’t done anything except collect annual dues and turn down permit applications for new benches. I almost don’t want to participate, just on principle, but that’s a lot of money.” “If you ask nicely, I’ll share some of it when I win,” said Malfoy as he turned to leave. Hermione shot two fingers at his back. or: Hermione and Draco decorate competitively.

Shag Lists, Wish Lists and Other Miracles by greenflowerpot - not rated, one-shot - Hermione Granger joins the Ministry after a year abroad. Draco Malfoy becomes her friend, then she learns something about him that makes her not want to be his friend, then she plans an office Christmas party. - OR: Draco Malfoy, reformed rake simp, holiday edition.

Eves and Ends by HeyJude19 - E, one-shot - Draco does not care how he landed in this situation. Whether curse or coma or hallucination, he has no desire to know what has trapped him in his present circumstance. There’s nothing at all stopping him from reliving Christmas Eve with Granger for the rest of time.

This fest is ongoing.

[dailycharacteroption]

Pathfinder Agent (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by Sucdeportocale on DeviantArt)

With how vast the Pathfinder setting is, it can sometimes be hard to remember that an important detail of it is the titular Pathfinder Society from which the system gets it’s name.

Focused on archeological and heroic motivations over desires for wealth, the society seeks to recover the secrets and relics of the past and make sure that the more dangerous entities and artifacts are dealt with properly and responsibly. They might not always succeed, but by and large their hearts are in the right place.

It only makes sense then that there would be training regimen to help the agents of the society survive and do well in the ancient wonders and ruins they seek and explore.

Indeed, this archetype is a nod and draws plenty of inspiration from the various Pathfinder prestige classes of the previous edition, such as chroniclers, field agents, delvers, and savants, with the majority of its focus being on the middle two of those. This makes sense given the role this modern archetype is meant to embody.

So let’s take a moment and look at what these agents have to offer, shall we?

The base dedication of the archetype improves the agent’s skills as they learn multiple things to help diversify their abilities, including bolstering their otherwise untrained skills. Additionally, they gain access to the signature wayfinders carried by all agents.

Tombs and ruins are often laden with traps, and many agents train to notice them even when performing other activities.

Said complexes are often very complicated, and some learn to keep careful track of their own movements in order to keep track of their sense of direction.

Teamwork keeps the whole expedition alive, and so many train to aid their allies so well that they gain some of the same benefits too, improving their own aim, defensive ability, or follow-up actions as a result.

Some also learn to reflexively look out for more broad environmental hazards, not just actively malicious traps.

This can also be trained to apply to hidden creatures as well, helping them notice ambushes before they happen.

They are also often trained in bestiary studies, to better know what they are up against when facing down various monsters.

Haunts too are not safe from their perceptive notice.

Thorough note-taking comes in handy, especially when facing certain types of monsters repeatedly, allowing them to notice or recall additional facts later.

Seeing an expert in action is a very useful skill to have in dangerous situations, and these explorers often learn to perfectly imitate the actions of a more skilled individual when performing the same task, such as where to step while moving over narrow ledges, and so on.

Some of the more mystical and curious among them tinker with their wayfinder, unlocking a bit of magic in the form of a cantrip of their choice and the ability to disguise their wayfinder as an unassuming accessory.

When danger is imminent, many reflexively act to warn others, getting them ready for the impending conflict.

Sometimes the work of acquiring a lost relic means making a quick replacement to fool casual inspection. Stealing an item from a treasure vault, tossing the fake somewhere where the bad guy will be fully occupied trying to get it, or simply handing it over to the bad guy to buy time to get the real way safely away. However, these fakes rarely stand up to close examination.

Many also learn not just the nature of many monsters but also their vital areas, letting them strike with the intent of bleeding said foes.

While any brute can force a door open, stronger pathfinder agents often learn to break open doors with precise application of force to just the right area.

Some learn to use their wayfinders to store a little extra magic, giving them an extra casting of one of their minor spells.

Honing their powers of recollection and information processing, some can recall information about multiple foes at once.

They can even recall information in the blink of an eye, which can mean life or death against certain foes.

There are many dangerous effects that can leave allies reeling and unable to act at their fullest when it’s needed most, so some learn to quickly refocus their allies to bring them back to their senses.

The more magical often learn to use the magic of their wayfinders to change their appearance and disguise the item itself as another badge of office.

Whether it’s an ancient text while monsters batter down the door, a bas relief threatening to crumble into the sea, or a similar situation, sometimes an archaeologist needs to memorize a lot of information quickly. So, some agents learn to hone their recollection to replicate the information later in a more portable medium.

When they realize they’re about to accidentally set off a trap, many Pathfinders have the wherewithal to warn their allies so that they can better avoid or resist the effects.

More battle-savvy members learn how to analyze their foes to pinpoint their greatest vulnerabilities and resistances.

Inevitably, most Pathfinders acquire a lot of different magical items, but the nature of magical investure means that one can normally only make use of so many at once. However, in an emergency, some of these agents can quickly swap out and re-invest a new item on the fly, giving them some more flexibility.

There are a lot of abilities to choose from here, so there’s something for everyone. Everything from improving knowledge checks against enemies to trap utility to some bonus magic and trickery. You definitely won’t be able to take it all, but if any of these abilities appeal to you and you want to play up your character’s connection to the society, this archetype may be for you. Be warned though, if you’re looking to view this archetype in it’s original written form, all of these abilities are split between three books, with two of them adding to the original. The drawbacks of adding to pre-existing content.

With such diverse abilities ranging from scholarly to practical, it’s clear that the Pathfinder Society actively encourages it’s members to pursue their own individual paths to mastery at their own pace and goal, which is pretty neat. Of course, you can use this archetype for any sort of adventuring or archaeological organization just fine with some tweaking.

After being refused access to the magistrate’s vault to reference a tablet within, the party is forced to use their talents to break in and study it directly. However, the party ends up encountering a group of ninja while on the heist. Are they guardians hired to protect the vault, or assassins with a mission of their own? There is little time to ponder such questions, as the fight threatens to alert the other guardians.

Normally content to explore alone, the android scholar Analysis-707 occassionally returns to civilization to recruit adventurers for larger expeditions. This time, however, he seems even more withdrawn than usual about what it is that he’s discovered and wants to explore, putting the rest of the crew on edge.

The mystery of what happened to the mighty angelic general Monvial has been lost to time, but it is said that the ruins of is last known location, the forgotten city of Gussk, may hold the answer… Those who dare to seek it discover the horrifying truth in a mural that reveals Monvial’s fall from grace and transformation into the entity Laivnom, a mighty Rhevanna and enemy to all celestials and goodness.

[nagichi-boop]

A Star That’s Out of Reach (Chapter 13)

[Previous] - [x]

[Masterlist]

Gonna take a brief break from this to do some Shadamytober prompts, but hope you enjoy this chapter!

— x —

It had been a while since Shadow had the chance to give his motorcycle the care he believed it deserved. He gathered his cleaning equipment and began to give it a thorough clean to give it a beautiful shine. He had been working at it for about half an hour, but while he was knelt down to reach the lower parts of the bike, he noticed a puncture in the front tire. The last time he rode it was to make his dramatic entrance following his short-lived disappearance, but he didn’t notice this at the time. Perhaps he was too caught up in the moment. Shadow let out a disgruntled tut, then stood on his feet and scanned the workshop for a spare tire. To his annoyance, he had nothing. He stood in place for a moment, his hand on his chin while his foot impatiently tapped against the garage floor. After some thought, an idea struck him.

He opened the garage door and pushed his beloved bike out by the handlebars. Unlike Sonic, the idea of moving slow didn’t bother him that much. His only frustration was that his treasured vehicle was damaged and he had to rely on someone else to fix her. After some time, he arrived outside Tails’ workshop. Oddly, he found himself to be nervous. Taking a steady breath in, he knocked on the large doors.

“Come in,” a muffled voice called out from inside. Shadow reluctantly pushed open the door before pushing his bike in. The commotion was enough for the young fox to look up from his work. He pushed his welding mask up from his face and was surprised at who he saw. “Shadow? What are you doing here?”

Shadow glanced at his bike and back to Tails. “The Dark Rider has a puncture in the tire and I don’t have any means to repair her. I figured the next best place to look was here.” Tails hopped out of his chair and walked towards the bike. He did his best to contain his excitement, which his nerves and confusion covered.

“You thought my workshop would be a better place to try than a car garage?” Tails quizzed.

A conflicted look crossed Shadow’s face, assuming that Tails was suggesting he couldn’t help. “I suppose that may have made more sense. I apologise for disturbing your work.”

“Wait wait,” Tails interrupted Shadow, who had gripped his handles ready to leave. “I wasn’t saying I can’t do it, I was just a bit confused. If you want me to help, I can.”

Shadow looked back at Tails, then nodded. “That would be ideal. I don’t trust others to tend to my gear, but you are one of the few people with a respect for such machinery, as well as the expertise.”

Tails couldn’t contain his excitement anymore, evidenced by his tails beginning to sway and the large grin on his face. He quickly rushed over and knelt by the damaged wheel to inspect it. He hummed in thought, then looked up at Shadow.

“I probably have a tire that can replace this,” he explained. Shadow stood behind the fox as he worked, a hand on his hip as he listened to Tails. “But the puncture is small enough that I might be able to repair it. I’ve actually been working on a gel application that can strengthen the durability of the tires.”

“How would it affect the function of my bike?” Shadow asked in a level tone. Tails flew to a cupboard under his tool rack, rummaging to find it. He pulled out a can and flew back over to Shadow, handing it to him to inspect.

“I tested it on The MTP-02 Whirlwind S7 and didn’t notice any major affects in its performance, but I suppose I can’t say for sure what impact it will have on your bike. Given the properties of the gel, I suppose it could slightly impact the handling while driving, but given the specs for your bike, I think the difference would be negligible, especially after a few drives.”

Shadow folded his arms, trying to decide what to do. Tails watched him for a moment, before offering another suggestion.

“I have a race track out the back of my workshop,” he informed Shadow, capturing the hedgehog’s attention once again. “I could apply the gel to the wheels and you could use the track to test it out. If you don’t like it, I have spare tires that I could easily fit for you so that the Dark Rider will be same as before should the gel compromise its performance in any way.”

Shadow absorbed this information, then nodded. “Sounds like a plan. How long will it take?”

“To repair the puncture, probably about 15 minutes. Applying the gel won’t take more than 5.” Before another word could be spoken, another figure quickly appeared in the lab.

“Hey Tails,” Sonic greeted energetically, before turning to notice Shadow standing there. “And… Shadow? Didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” Without moving, Shadow side-eyed Sonic, though not out of malice. Sonic smiled at him, unfazed by his resting disgruntled expression.

“Tails is fixing my bike,” Shadow explained matter-of-factly. Sonic glanced at Tails, who was nervously glancing between the two, as if he were expecting a fight to break out between them.

“Ah cool,” Sonic replied. There was a brief silence between the three of them, none of them knowing what to say. After a few seconds, Sonic finally piped up. “So Tails, how long will this take?”

Tails’ body relaxed a little thanks to that question. Seeing the look on Sonic’s face, it was as if he could read his mind, and he smirked at his older brother. “Enough time for you to race Shadow, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Shadow raised an eyebrow at the now eager Sonic. It wasn’t a thought that crossed his mind, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea. In fact, the idea was appealing to him. Sonic now turned his attention to Shadow, and before he could begin to convince Shadow to race him, the darker hedgehog smiled at him.

“Racing you will be a slightly less boring way to pass time than standing here idly,” Shadow taunted, though it was clear he was keen to race Sonic. The blue hedgehog let out a chuckle before dashing to the racetrack outside, with Shadow close behind him. They stopped at the starting line, both restless to race one another.

“How many laps?” Sonic asked as he stretched his legs.

“Hmm…fifty?” Shadow responded, stretching his arms.

“Sounds good to me!” Sonic glanced at Shadow, then began to count down. “Three…” Sonic paused, creating a moment of tension between the two of them. He then spoke in rapid succession; “two-one-go!”

The two hedgehogs began sprinting in unison, appearing as blurs on the track. They managed to blitz around the track at exceedingly high speeds, quickly reaching the fiftieth lap. The two of them came to a grinding halt, looking at one another to confirm the winner. Sonic initially excepted to have to argue about who won, but Shadow seemed remarkably agreeable.

“Shall we call it a draw?” Shadow spoke as he panted slightly. Sonic stood upright, staring at him as he too caught his breath.

“Sounds fair,” he replied cheerfully. After a few seconds however, he couldn’t help but notice that Shadow appeared preoccupied and refused to look up at him. “Hey, everything alright there, bud? You seem distracted.”

Shadow finally looked up at Sonic, but didn’t respond immediately. He stared at his rival for a few seconds, then exhaled deeply. “I’m fine.”

Sonic raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “Yeah, sure you are,” he replied sarcastically. “Come on, you can be honest if something is on your mind.” Shadow stared at his rival for a moment, furrowing his brows as he went back and forth in his mind about what to do. He then looked away, folding his arms. A slight blush formed in his cheeks, which clued Sonic in to what this might be about before he even spoke.

“It’s about Amy,” Shadow eventually confessed, though his demeanour already made it obvious. “I’m not sure how to proceed with her.”

Sonic nodded a little, his attitude shifting to a more serious one. Shadow had been opening himself up more to him recently, and he wasn’t about to be the reason he retreated again. “Okay, makes sense. Where are the two of you at?”

Shadow’s gaze briefly flicked to Sonic, and it was clear he was conflicted on what to say. Given that Sonic had failed to betray his trust this far, he figured it was a safe bet to trust him. At the same time, telling him about his relationship with Amy could make things complicated for her. Sonic, being a people’s person, began to speculate in his head as Shadow seemed to be at mental war with himself.

“Are you two of you dating?” Sonic asked suddenly, causing Shadow to tense up. Though he was usually hard to read, it seemed Shadow was terrible at hiding his feelings when it came to Amy.

“You better not tell a soul,” Shadow threatened sharply, though it was clear there was a level of anxiety behind his voice.

“Why would I?” Sonic questioned casually. “As I’ve said before, it has nothing to do with me.”

Shadow sighed, his body tense from nerves. He refused to look at Sonic, but the latter understood that this was an uncomfortable topic. “We aren’t dating officially. We decided to have a ‘trial period’ where we see how we would feel about dating.”

Sonic didn’t quite understand how dating could operate on a trial period, but he chose not to question it. He wasn’t privy to that discussion, and in a way it made sense given Shadow’s difficulty being vulnerable. Perhaps the two of them decided not to label their relationship as romantic until they were comfortable with it.

“I just question whether this is the right way forward,” Shadow admitted in an almost somber tone.

Sonic raised an eyebrow, appearing almost annoyed. He placed his hands on his hip and sighed. “Are you really still stuck on the whole ‘I’m such a bad guy’ thing?”

Shadow shook his head, still not looking at Sonic. “It’s not that. I mean, I do still wrestle with that thought, but that’s not what I’m worried about.” Taking a moment to compose his thoughts, he sighed again. “I’m worried that even if we like each other, we aren’t compatible.”

“What do you mean?” Sonic quizzed, trying not to let his impatience come across in his tone.

“I’m a very guarded person, and Amy is quite the opposite. That in itself may not be an issue, but I am concerned about Amy’s expectations for our relationship.” Shadow glanced up to the sky thoughtfully. “I’ve observed the way Amy is with you and your friends. She gives herself entirely to serve others and is willing to bend over backwards for those she cares about while asking for very little in return. I got a clearer idea of that recently when I realised she seemed almost too relaxed with her relationship boundaries. I don’t want her to compromise her comfort or wishes just to make me happy. And I don’t want her to be disappointed or frustrated with how slow I am to ease into things. I’d much rather she find someone more suited to her if it meant she would be more comfortable.”

Sonic’s expression now shifted to one of concern. Shadow wasn’t wrong – Amy was very much a people pleaser. He knew all too well that she often sacrifices her own comfort for the sake of others. It’s a quality that worked as a double edged sword, making her compassionate to an almost dangerous degree. He was also aware that Amy was exceedingly expressive with her emotions, and he understood why Shadow might be afraid that his more reserved nature would clash with that. His expression then became serious as he began to think. After a few seconds, he walked up to Shadow and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Then tell her you’re worried,” Sonic softly suggested, causing Shadow to finally look at him. “I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing that you’re worried about her and that you want her to be comfortable in your relationship. Don’t expect her to completely change who she is, but I’m sure she’d be happy knowing you’re thinking of her. And who knows - maybe in time she’ll learn to let herself be taken care of by you.”

Something about that deeply appealed to Shadow. He hadn’t really taken care of anyone, even himself, since Maria. He always found it to be fulfilling, even if it came with stress. The idea of being a source of refuge for Amy touched him deeply. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt almost possessive of her, wanting to be the one to fill that role.

“It’s done!” Tails called out, causing the two hedgehogs to turn towards him. Tails landed in front of them, his face shifting from excitement to nerves. “I feel like I just interrupted something important.”

“Don’t worry, you aren’t interrupting,” Shadow assured. “Your timing was perfect.”

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” Sonic added.

“Wait, didn’t you need something?” Tails asked, confused.

“Nah,” Sonic answered swiftly. “I just came to hang out. I didn’t realise you’d be busy. I’ll swing by later. For now, I gotta dash!” And before giving anyone the chance to answer, Sonic sprinted away in an instant. Tails took a moment to adjust to the situation before turning to speak to Shadow.

“So anyways, I came over to say that your bike is finished!” Though Tails spoke with vigour, it was clear he was trying to mask his nerves. Shadow took notice of this, but chose not to comment on it. He figured it made sense given that he is often assumed to be annoyed at others because of his default demeanour. He gave Tails a slight smile, trying to ease his anxiety.

“Thank you, Tails,” he spoke calmly. “Is there anything you’d like in return?”

Tails shook his head. “Nah, it was my pleasure. The Dark Rider is a real beauty, and it was an honour to work on her!” He paused for a moment before smiling and tilting his head curiously. “Would you like to take her for a spin around the track?”

“Of course,” Shadow replied, keeping an even tone to his voice. Eager to observe his handiwork in action, Tails led Shadow back to his workshop. When they entered, Shadow took a moment to look at his bike and was instantly relived to see that it wasn’t undamaged. Not that he had assumed Tails would be so reckless, but it was reassuring to know that she was okay. He gave the young fox a nod of approval, which caused Tails’ smile to widen tenfold.

He carefully carted the bike out to the track, then moved aside for the hedgehog to mount his beloved ride. After climbing onto the Dark Rider, he revved the engine a few times before beginning to drive. Tails watched in awe as Shadow raced around the track, drifting and speeding with skill and precision. It was clear that he was in his element racing around, and while to others that would make little sense given Shadow’s own running speed, Tails had spent enough time with Sonic to know that the experience is different when racing in a vehicle.

After doing a few laps of the track, Shadow came to a careful stop in front of Tails, planting one foot on the ground to steady himself. He smiled at Tails and was clearly enjoying himself, an expression Tails hadn’t really seen on Shadow.

“She drives fantastically,” Shadow complimented enthusiastically. “Thank you for your help.”

Tails chuckled a little, clearly very flattered. “No problem! Happy to help a fellow mechanic enthusiast.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to repay you?” Shadow asked, to which Tails shook his head.

“There’s really no need. If anything, this works out well for me – I got to see my work in action. And I’m glad to call the resistance gel a success!”

Shadow nodded, accepting that Tails really didn’t want any form of repayment. With a friendly wave, he then drove off and headed home. With the wind in his quills, he took a moment to reflect on his conversation with Sonic. He had a renewed desire to speak to Amy and do everything he could to make her happy.

[dross-the-fish]

Victor and Adam building the Bride

One change I made to Adam's backstory that deviates from canon is that I chose to have him and Victor work on the bride together. I wanted to deepen the sense of betrayal that came with Victor's decision to destroy the bride and doing that without totally demonizing Victor is proving a challenge. Especially given that I chose to write this drabble from Victor's POV. Idk i think the first person perspective makes him less sympathetic because it reveals a lot of his inherent biases. I may write a part 2 to this or a separate drabble from Adam's perspective but I wanted to step into Victor's shoes for a bit just to explore the scene.

.....

I had been walking down the street when the large, graceless, hand dragged me into the shadows of the dank London alley. I nearly screamed but caught myself when I realized that it was only the fiend, lurking in the shadows and hiding his dreadful countenance from view. I could feel my anger rise at the sight of him. He’d attempted to dress himself this time, somewhere he had stolen a coat cut in the same style as my own but several inches too short for him and a ragged shirt. Since he’d begun dogging my steps in England, he’d started to tie back his hair as well...

...In the same fashioned which I bound mine, with a ribbon he had stolen from me. I knew he was hoping that I would remark on it, he often tried to incite me to speak to him, even if it was only to hurl abuses at his person.  

This infuriated me to no end, he seemed determined to fashion himself my son and while we had struck a tenuous truce to build his mate, I had made it abundantly clear that when we had done with our distasteful task he was to vanish from my life forever. He was an audacious thing. I had learned that to give him an inch was to yield a mile. He had tried, once, during our toiling to gather materials from fresh graves, to call me “father” and I had responded with violence, lashing out and striking him across his chest with my fist. I reminded him of William, my poor brother, and bade him remember that I was not helping him by choice. He had fallen silent, watching me with his hateful eyes burning in the dark as we continued to dig.

He could not know how repulsive the word was to me. As I took in his evil face now, shrouded by the shadows of the filthy alley, I could still see the traces of the beauty I had tried to bestow. His black hair was rich and thick; the fine structure of his bones lent him an almost handsome cast with the darkness concealing the worst of his features. It was as if for a moment I could see a vision of my work as I had meant it. How miserable a thing it was to know. To see my dream reflected in the waking nightmare of his flesh! I had sought to make him in my own image, as God had made Adam, but the perverse wretch before me resembled more the daemon serpent than he did any man.

I had braced myself for him to speak but still I could not resist a shudder at the sound. Rough, harsh and low, there was no music in it. His voice was as ugly and malicious as the rest of him.

“I have found her skull, there was a giantess in a nearby village. Deformed from birth and growing in size until she passed away. Her family abandoned her for her defects. She need not fear such from me,” his voice became tender "no I will embrace her for she will be perfect in my eyes,” he produced the skull, a thick and misshapen thing, for me to inspect “It should be big enough that you needn’t modify it as you did mine,” he gnashed his white teeth. Large and straight. I had bleached and filed down the teeth of horses to create the grimace that now twisted his face.

He turned the skull in his hands and caressed it gently, gazing at it as though he were already looking into the face of a lover. Unable to bear the look of longing in his eyes I turned away, feeling strangely as though I were intruding on an intimate moment. Disturbingly I found myself almost moved to sympathy by his plight. He was, admittedly, more capable of thought and feeling that I had attributed him.

“What will we name her?” he asked so softly I wondered if he was even speaking to me.

I turned and rushed from the alley as though I had not heard him. I had not granted a name to the creature and I had no intention of thusly attaching myself to his bride by means of naming her. She would be no more my daughter than he my son. It must be enough for all of us that I allow them to set off in the world together and they in turn would do no harm to mankind. We must, none of us, ask for more than that of each other.

I confess that perhaps I might have been more agreeable to the task of naming her if I were not already committed to the chore of making her as loathsome in appearance as he was. As it was, I had none of the enthusiasm left for the process of creation. It was one thing to fail in my creation of first creature but to intentionally build the second with the intent of replicating that failure was a nearly unbearable thought.

Having finally gathered the materials, we met again some days later on a small island off of the Scottish coast. My unwelcome companion did not share my low spirits for he took to his part of our labors with childlike eagerness. Despite my hostility he asked questions constantly. His curiosity was insatiable! he devoured medical tome after medical tome and still demanded more. Always with him there was a need for more. The depths of his greed unnerved me for nothing seemed enough to content him. Frequently he grew frustrated with my inability to go without sleep. He himself never seemed to sleep and would continue to work long after I went to bed and be at the table still in the morning when I woke. Sometimes there would be a plate of food waiting though this I would not touch for I did not like to think of his hands preparing my meals. If he was offended, he expressed it only by glowering at me.

Frustrating as he undoubtedly found me, I admit I also found his company grating for he spoke either too much or too little. One moment a rapid fire of questions and wheedling, then the next icy silence. Out of the corner of his eye he would glare at me and I would start to feel guilt for my harshness towards him. I needed often to remind myself that he was a murderer and had threatened to kill again. It was under this sense duress that I worked alongside of him, nothing more.

I disliked also how much affection he seemed to hold for the unborn female creature. As she began to take shape on the table he would, for want of conversation with me, speak to her. He seemed to have formed in his mind an image of a private world where they two of them would dwell like the first man and woman in a garden of their own making. He made her promises to fill her life with love and beauty and even once, kissed her. It filled me with dread to see his devotion. I had had doubts but now they were becoming fears. What if she resented him? What if she was discontent to be his bride, having been given no other choice from birth? Unbidden my mind turned to Elizabeth. My poor adopted sister who wanted so much to travel and to pursue an education but never could for her life had been written out for her before she’d even been old enough to understand that there would be no choices.

Indeed, I did not relish the thought. If this female creature was kind and gentle then I was damning her to a life alone with a cruel, brutish, monster as her only company. If she displeased him, would he kill her, as he had William? If he was capable of harming a child would he not also be capable of harming his own bride?

What if she rejected him and thus two such hateful creatures would be loosed upon the world? Sowing destruction at every turn and being twice the blight upon mankind for their increased number.

What if they fell in love? What if they started a new race? Their progeny could not be held to a promise of benevolence. In time mankind might be overtaken if they grew too large in number.

The more I thought, the more I knew that no good could come of my completion of the female creature. But what choice had I anymore except to yield to my creature’s demands?

[jwhitewolfbarnes]

The Unexpected Visitor

I know this blog hasn’t been active in a long time, but my recent resurgence of obsession with Daredevil has sparked a need to write. Hope this is a good one. Please give feedback! I am not sure when or if I'll write again but if this does well, I just might!

Characters: Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Reader, mentions of Karen Page and Foggy Nelson

Relationship: Matthew Murdock/F!Reader

Description: While alone at the office, a surprise visitor for Matt drops in. He may have a thing for you. 

Warnings: None really. Potentially OOC Frank and Matt, definitely non-canon law office, a slight blind joke, Matt’s devil senses, sexual hints, not beta read, use of Y/N, no physical description given so reader is up to interpretation

Word Count: 1,140

______________________________________________________________

Working at Nelson, Murdock & Page always seemed to involve something interesting happening at least once a week. Being paid in produce or livestock or baked goods. Seeing people get so flustered when interacting with Matt. Listening to Karen and/or Foggy complain about their most recent dating adventures. But these were all things you could get used to. 

Something you hadn’t gotten used to yet was dating Matt Murdock. Foggy and Karen had placed a bet a little over a year ago when you were hired about when Matt would make his move. Turns out he would make it just before your one year anniversary at the firm. The both of you had confessed feelings while Matt walked you home after a few too many at Josie’s. And here you were, three months later- still working as the office assistant/manager/lawyer and vigilante wrangler/girlfriend. 

It was just you and Matt in the office for a few days while Foggy and Karen were a few hours away meeting with a prominent client. Matt had just stepped out for a short local meeting and said he would pick up lunch on his way back.

As you fought with the printer, the door opened. The man that walked in seemed somewhat familiar to you, but you didn’t have a chance to fully inspect his face before he spoke.

“I’m here to, uh, see Murdock.” His gruff voice cut through the concerning noises coming from the printer. He glanced around the office before his eyes finally settled on you. He watched as you moved to stand behind your desk.  A slight smile appeared on his face as his eyes roamed your figure.

“Well, well… what does Murdock have a pretty little thing like you hidden away in this shithole for?” He let out a low chuckle and moved a bit closer to your desk. You couldn’t stop the small smile from forming on your face. You couldn’t deny it- he was attractive, very attractive. He was large and intimidating wearing dark jeans, a gray shirt, a black jacket, and a baseball cap that covered just enough. He smiled a little bigger, noticing you giving him a once over. You cleared your throat before attempting to speak.

“I, um, I’ve been the office assistant for about a year now. But anyway, what’s your name? And did you have a specific appointment or is this just a drop-in situation?” You tried to avoid making direct eye contact with him so he didn’t think you had any larger interest in him. You nervously fiddled with a string on your pants as you sat down to go over the meetings calendar. 

“Castiglione, ma’am. I didn’t have any appointment or whatever. Where is that asshole anyway, I know he’ll want to hear what I got to say. What’s your name, darlin’?” He makes a move to sit down in the chair across from you. You watch as he settles in and leans forward to place his elbows on the edge of your desk.

“My name is Y/N. And Mr. Murdock should be here in just a moment. He had a short meeting before this. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait Mr. Castiglione?” You gesture behind you to the very minuscule drink area you had forced Matt and Foggy to help you set up. He glances around you and nods. You have a slight moment of panic over admitting you were alone, but something about this guy doesn’t make you feel afraid. 

“A water would be real nice… I am a bit thirsty over here.” You stand up and turn slightly to grab a cup and dispense some water. As you turn to hand him the water, you notice he was most definitely staring at your ass. He clears his throat and leans back, spreading his legs as he relaxes. He takes a sip of the water and makes a little show of licking his lips. 

“So, Y/N, would you like a drink? What do ya say? Tomorrow at 7, me and you darlin’?” He tilts his head back and suddenly the obstruction of his baseball cap has disappeared. You finally recognize him.

“Frank. What are you doing here?” Matt’s abrupt question startles you. You hadn’t even noticed him come in. He sets a takeout bag and his cane down on the desk and moves to stand beside you. You know that he can probably hear your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Finally, Murdock. Bout damn time you show up, but I have to say, the view in here is absolutely something. Such a shame you can’t admire it.” Frank’s eyes never leave you as he speaks. There’s a small cocky smile on his face as he opens his mouth again. “So, what about that drink, Y/N? Just cause this asshole shows up, doesn’t mean we can’t finish what we started.” 

You shoot him a confused look but as you go to respond, Matt cuts in. “Frank, if you would like to keep the privilege of dropping in here and leaving unharmed, you might want to stop hitting on my girlfriend.” There’s a hint of smugness in Matt’s voice as he tilts his head towards Frank. That cocky smile almost instantly disappears from Frank’s face. He suddenly sits up straight and looks between the both of you. 

“Goddamn it, you always get ‘em first, huh? You’re a little shit, you know that?” He turns back to you, “I am sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable.” His apology seemed sincere and kind of adorable. This big, scary man apologizing for hitting on you. Matt’s hand has made itself known on your waist, pulling you into his side. You look up at him and then back to Frank. 

“It’s okay. You didn’t make me uncomfortable, it was flattering. It was really nice to meet you. I have heard quite a bit about you.” Matt shoots you a look that you know means trouble for you later while Frank’s grin makes its return. 

“Well, thank you ma’am. Keep me in mind if this one ever fucks up.” He chuckles and throws a finger in Matt’s direction. “Now, about that meeting Red. I ain’t got all damn day here altar boy.” Frank stands up and makes his way to Matt’s office without any guidance. Once he steps inside and the door is shut, Matt turns his eyes towards you. 

“You were flattered, huh sweetheart? Well, I’ll see what I can do about that later tonight.” He leans down and kisses you probably a little too inappropriately for the middle of a law office. As he pulls away, there’s a slight grimace on his face. “I can smell him on you. As soon as he’s gone, we’re fixing that.”

[daddymilker691]

Well my dearest readers of the Daily Milker it’s that time the time you’ve all been waiting for it’s fresh of the press a page five special for my loyal readers it’s been a very busy week in our small office so much so Dawn Green one of our page five stars offered to play the part of secretary and of course got suitably rewarded just when I thought it might be a slower week than normal Dolly walked through the door explaining it had been raining outside thus the need for a brolly and would I like to take some pics I ended up making Dolly a very happy page five star I would have loved to have given dolly a longer more intense milking but with so many page five stars to milk I’m afraid at times it does all get a bit rushed next was another of our newest page five pretty stars Lady Joanna how could a Milker resist and yes if your wondering readers stockings and matching black panties quite a thruster is our page five star lady Joanna , next was a page five regular and a true beauty and always very very giving and I should blush when she dangled that lovely Pearl necklace and offered to give me one as a thank you but I love my work readers so I didn’t and when it comes to Janablack so lovely to milk an absolute joy , so I’d just finished Janna when Dawn Green announced if your not too tired Chrissy loves world is here for a photo shoot and a milking of course I exclaimed it’s important to not keep our rising stars waiting and dear readers rising was the operative word quite a moaner is Chrissy and giving in every sense of the word , Jodie Hot Sauce came just after I’d waved goodbye to the lovely Chrissy in a lovely see though with a bulge as big and hard as a shotgun ready to go off and as Jodie lifted the dress I sunk to my knees and got busy it was like meeting an old friend as comfy as putting a hand in a loved leather glove Jodie later told me as I did what I do best , just as Jodie left with a radiant smile and panties quickly put back on Miss Dawn Green announced another page five star called I barely had time dear readers to get up off my knees when a very glamorous page five star walked in and announced I’m Monique I’m here to be a page five star at the Daily Milker I’ve read about what you do and I want some of it how could I resist as I said we don’t normally allow smoking in the studio Monique lit a 120 cigarette and said really ? Why don’t you stick to what your good at as I placed my hand on the tops of those fishnet stockings I looked up with an expression of concern do try not to set my hair on fire as this wonderful page five star got closer to climaxing a Monique’s mouth opened in a gasp of ecstasy and a large plume of smoke filled the room followed by a low contented moan truly I had done a wonderful job after a couple of hours break and a light lunch with the wonderful Dawn Green there came a tentative knock on the office door a rather pretty sight met my eyes and a rather shy voice asked is this the Daily Milker my names Mandie and I heard about your quest for page five stars I licked my lips this was going to be fun trying my best to put Mandie at ease I took our potential star to the office explaining the milking process oh I’m not sure came the reply but even as I was explaining it the hem of Mandies frilly dress was rising and getting down to inspect Mandies satin panties cries of oh don’t please don’t stop as I teased our newest page five stars dolly turned to cries please don’t stop oh please oh oh yes a delightful and very fruitful milking was given and enjoyed lastly and not least I gave a somewhat hurried milking to our lovely Barbie and there my dear readers is your naughtiest page five Daily Milker if I get the time a part two bonus episode may come later in the week stay loyal to your fave milking paper and have a great Sunday xxx

[proceduralpassion]

I Don't Wanna Be Unfair | Chapter 09

Pairing: Jax Teller x OC Series Masterlist

Summary/synopsis: Fresh off a broken engagement, McKenzie Gilbert has a one night stand with a random guy she never plans to see again. Soon after, their paths cross, which complicates several situations at hand.

Chapter warning(s): language, smut (oral sex; female receiving, PiV sex, shower sex, a lil degradation kink? 👀 a lil brat taming? 👀), BRANDON, violence (mention of blood, guns, gunshot wound, some medicine)

WC: ~10.2k (i went awf lol)

Jax combed over the papers sat in front of him, trying his hardest to focus. SAMCRO and the Street Wolves now officially owned their first piece of joint property together and the next phase was to get the necessary building inspection in order. He lazily gleaned over the various checklists that outlined all of the building codes that needed to be satisfied. He’d been in the Garden lounge for hours making sure everything was in check after Sairah gracefully went over what to expect that might need to be done. His desire for the inspection to go smoothly was only one of the thoughts that was cartwheeling through his mind all day. The other was McKenzie. 

It had been about two weeks since they started their arrangement, and in that time, they had managed to christen the entirety of Jax’s house along with the back of McKenzie’s Camry and against a tree on their impromptu hiking date last weekend. 

Besides that first sneaky link in a dorm room at the Garden, they had been careful not to mess around or even interact much under the nose of others. And even though he was very much enthralled by McKenzie’s suggestion to swing by her firehouse while she was on shift so that they could have a rendezvous in the back of an ambulance, he wasn’t even willing to risk the possibility of her coworkers finding out about them. 

They had quickly eased into the exhilarating dynamic and it had been the most enlivening experience Jax had had in years. Thrilling in the sense that their deception was caught on by none. But simple in the sense that there were no expectations. Uncomplicated. Caveat free.

Jax let out a sigh and forced himself to focus yet again on the papers he was supposed to be studying. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her. Every idle moment he had, his mind veered off to thoughts of her. She was everywhere even when she wasn’t there physically. From the moment they would part, he would wonder when the next time he’d get to see her again. 

“Yeah, I just need to go shower, Lise.” 

McKenzie’s voice flowed in from the hallway and he could just barely register movement through the cracked door. Jax pushed himself out of the chair and walked towards the lounge door. When he opened it further, McKenzie was walking towards a dorm room where she’d presumably go to take a shower in one of the adjointed bathrooms. A second set of footsteps could be heard from the opposite end of the hall and Lisa appeared from the stairs.

“Hey, Lisa,” Jax greeted her for the first time today, “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, looks like McKenzie had a shitty shift if the dried up blood on her clothes is any indication,” Lisa supplied, “You would think working a morning half-shift would be slow in this neck of the woods…”

Jax rubbed his chin, “Yeah, you could say the same thing for Charming, but the ER was always busy at St. Thomas.”

Lisa hummed in acknowledgement, “So what are you up to? Still going over those notes Sairah outlined for you?”

“Yeah, she’s very… thorough,” Jax laughed and Lisa joined in, but not in surprise.

“The perks of having an architect in your pocket!” Building codes and city ordinances were already in Sairah’s wheelhouse given her line of work, so Gil looping her in for advice on how best to pass all these inspections wasn’t much of a large feat. As much as she playfully complained about being “on-call” for people who weren’t her clients, she never not anticipated being of assistance once the Street Wolves and SAMCRO went into legit business.

From down the stairs, the two heard one of the bartenders calling for Lisa to sign an incoming delivery of imported tequila. Lisa left with a pat on his back to go tend to business and Jax watched her until she was completely down the stairs. 

And then his gaze flicked back to the opposite end of the hall in the direction McKenzie went. He stood still for another second or so, making sure no one else was coming up into the Street Wolf territory that was separate from the bar. And even though his mind reminded him that maybe he should keep his distance while under a roof shared with the very people they were attempting to mask their arrangement from, his legs carried him towards wherever she was. Aside from simply wanting to be near her, he couldn’t fight the urge to check on her after what sounded like a tense shift. He was sure she was fine, but still, he wanted to confirm for himself. 

Any potential messing around that might arise from them being in a quiet space away from prying eyes was simply an added bonus.

Slipping into the dorm room, he followed the noise of the running water in the ensuite bathroom. The door was unlocked and she was already under the steaming hot water as he began to undress himself. Without warning, he ripped the shower curtain back and clamped a hand around her mouth. A small squeak was still able to peek through, but it was masked by Jax’s own chuckle when he saw her eyes slit from alarm to relief and annoyance. 

When he moved his hand, she whisper-yelled, “Jesus, Jax!” 

He could feel her rapid heart beat slowing down as they stood chest to chest in the shower. Within the small space, she maneuvered them so that he wasn’t directly under the showerhead. She didn’t know how he’d explain why his hair was wet otherwise. 

He wore a lopsided grin instead of apologizing before adding, “Thought you’d might want some company…” The glint in his eyes became more hedonic as they swept down her body.

“Feeling reckless, are we?” 

His hands moved to her hips in response and she shivered irresistibly against his touch. 

“A little,” he whispered against the skin of her jaw. A contented sigh flowed from her lips and her hands reached towards the back of his neck. Soon enough, their lips met and tangled in a tug of war that gradually heated. McKenzie could feel his desire for her grow against her thigh as he deepened the kiss.

Jax was the first one to pull back, his kisses leaving her lips but returning to her jaw. His hands continued exploring the contours of her hips. They were wrapped as if he were holding handlebars and his thumbs danced along closer to the interior of her thighs. Her breath hitched as one of his thumbs lightly brushed against a sensitive spot of skin.

He kissed her lips once more before asking, “You okay?”

“Yeah, that feels good,” she licked her lips. 

“No, I meant about earlier… Lisa said you had a rough shift?”

McKenzie’s eyes softened in understanding and maybe appreciation. There were a million things she could say about the shifts that dragged the life out of her, but she found nothing to say in that moment in this small space with minimal distance between them. 

“I’m okay,” she simply said.

“You sure?” His eyes traced over her. He found curiosity in her eyes before she opened her mouth to reply.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Good.”

And then, he placed a delicate kiss on her lips as he grabbed under her thigh and held her between himself and the shower wall. His other hand rested on the wall itself and he deepened the kiss to swallow out her moans as he sank into her. They were on borrowed time, and even though he could’ve stayed in there with her forever, he made use of the several minutes he was given.

He sped up as soon as she became acclimated to the sensation of him in her depths. His thrusts became gradually harsher and rougher, with the feeling of McKenzie’s nails digging into his back encouraging his unrelenting pace. The feeling of her legs shaking gave him indication that she was as close as he was. Instead of slowing down, he kept his furious pace until he could feel teeth marks around his shoulder. They reached their muzzled peaks together.

The sound of the water running and them catching their breaths were the only things heard within the small space. 

Seconds passed as their bodies disconnected. Their eyes, however, remained glued on each other. Soon, a shy smile coveted McKenzie’s lips. 

Jax began to wash himself in the shower and her smile only grew.

“Wowwww, so not only do you come and interrupt my shower, you steal it too?”

She could see the lazy smirk on his face from the side as he swiped the bottle of Irish Spring from the rack. 

“To be fair, it was needed after that workout.”

He winked at her as she shook her head while pushing him so that she was closer up under the water. He chuckled and they finished cleansing their bodies together. Jax left the shower before her and was out of the bathroom by the time McKenzie turned the water off. She opened the door to the adjoining dorm room and saw him peeking out to check if the coast was clear. Without looking, he heard her traipse behind him.

“I’m getting ready to go back out there. We’re heading into the town today.” 

She nodded and gave him a wet hug, “Thanks for stopping by.” 

Jax grinned, “Any time, darlin’.”

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

Jax took off his helmet before strapping it in its place on his bike and dismounting the Dyna. He blew out a heavy, yet excited sigh as he looked all around the slowly familiar town. It was still as empty as it was the last several times he’d been here, but that was where the excitement came in. With time and if they played their cards right, SAMCRO and the Street Wolves could be the defining factor that took this place from a ghost town into a profitable, thriving urbane.

All of the members from both crews were here, the first time everyone would be visiting their first joint property together. Remarkably, it was the biggest property on the lengthy, deserted street. And it would hopefully one day come to be their very own casino. 

There were dozens of ideas that were flipped around in their various meetings and starting a casino was one that they kept coming back around to. Through all of their ideas, one of the topics of debate was what would be the most sensible avenue for them to go into their first foray of business. Sure, they had the far-seeing plans to open stores, maybe a restaurant, a strip club, an arcade or bowling alley, but with their current contacts and connections, with the experience that they already had as former outlaws, starting a casino seemed to be the most advantageous. It had the most promise of being a success.

“Here’s our future, boys!” Gil exclaimed with his arms held wide. Cheers and raucous excitement filled the air as they all took in the visual tangibility of their dreams.

One by one, they filed into the large, desolate space and envisioned their future. 

“The place is yours to look around, boys! Get the lay of the land,” Jax proclaimed, “Take note. Hell, take pictures. By our next meeting, we want everyone’s input about how we can build the best damn casino this shithole has ever seen!”

Jax, Gil, Flu, and Bobby had all seen the property a few times by now, having visited the premises with the real estate agent. Still, that didn’t stop Bobby from going up the steps to marvel at the detailing of the balcony railings or Flu from showing Sweets the broken, dusty jukebox in the corner near the front windows. 

Jax and Gil stood to the side and mainly enjoyed everyone else’s explorations. They looked at each other briefly and shared a joyous laugh at just how exciting this all was. It was no longer just talk for them. The wheels were in motion. 

Not unlike the wheels that screeched to a halt right outside. 

The sound was jarring, except no one really got the chance to register what the noise was until the ringing sound of gunshots filled the air. Like butter, they drilled through the glass windows and punctured the door and walls. Jax stumbled backwards from the sheer surprise with a “holy shit” pulled from the back of his throat. Gil fell forwards right next to him and they both leapt to reach for their own guns.

Bobby, Rev, and Chibs had better visuals from the second level and shot through the upstairs, loft-like windows. A couple of others were able to get a few shots off from below but most avoided pulling their triggers for fear of bullet ricocheting and hitting their close-by brothers-in-arms. With limited sight to the outside without peeking up and getting their heads blown off, most of them were unable to get an idea of who was popping off the shots.

Less than a minute after the shots first rang out, they could hear the tires squelch as their assailants fled the scene. Opie, who was closest to the front entrance, kicked the bullet-ridden door open and stalked outside. With Jax and Gil on his heels, he fired off a few shots that only bounced off the retreating black SUV. The vehicle had sped off so fast they weren’t even able to get a look at how many people were inside. There was a silent second of contemplation over whether to hop on their bikes and chase after whoever just opened a demented can of worms. Before they could make the decision however, there were pain-filled groans emanating from inside. 

Marching back inside, they were met with the image of Sweets lying on the floor, clutching his blood-soaked shoulder. Flu leaned over him and held pressure to the wound as Chibs jogged over to help.

“What the fuck just happened?” Rev exclaimed. 

All around, the members of SAMCRO and Street Wolves caught their breath while warily asking themselves the same question.

Jax spoke up trying to restore order, “We don’t have time to figure that out right now. We gotta get the hell out of here!” They had zero indication of who these people were, what they were after, and whether they were circling the block.

“Let’s get back to the Garden and regroup!” Gil was dialing the keys on his phone as he gave his order and Jax heard him giving Lisa a heads up about what had just happened and whether McKenzie was still at the Garden. 

Flu and Chibs helped Sweets up and guided him outside with alert and cautious eyes for any impending danger. Jax took a look out of the window himself and saw that while there was extensive damage done to the SAMCRO van that Half-Sack had driven, the tires seemed intact and would be okay for the drive back into Highwater; there’d be no way for Sweets to drive his own bike with the damage done to his shoulder.

Rev and Jax cast wary glances at each other in between surveying the damage inside and attempting to process what the fuck just happened. Their new property was mostly barren, so they didn’t care enough to closely examine each morsel of damage since the place was going to need considerable renovations, anyway. They simply made note of what they could see from their vantage point near the front of the building and began to slowly walk out. 

As they all rode back to the Garden, Jax tried to reason through who could’ve been responsible for them nearly getting their heads blown off today. They were supposed to be on their way to a brand new paved road of legitimateness. And this major hitch in the road needed to be answered for. He let his mind roll through all of SAMCRO’s former enemies, but found none that would fit the bill. They were good with the IRA, as neutral as they could be after their clubhouse was blown up. Marcus Alvarez was practically bounding with glee when Jax brokered a deal that gave the Mayans some good arms dealing contacts that SAMCRO was no longer doing business with. Jimmy O was dead. Pope was dead. Zobelle was somewhere living it up on an island. Clay only sees sunlight one hour of the day. There was no one they left the game having active beef with.

He shook his head, still confused and anxious, as he dismounted his bike near the side entrance of the Garden. The Street Wolves had even less enemies than SAMCRO and Gil had already been upfront about their adversaries when the two clubs were first in talks to start this journey together. None of those names set off any alarms in Jax’s head, either. 

He held the door open for Chibs and Flu who each held one of Sweets’ arms as they guided him inside. Lisa and McKenzie were already waiting by the side door and McKenzie immediately jumped into action by leading them upstairs. The closest dorm room nearby had already been set up something close to a hospital room, with all kinds of gauze, medical equipment, and medications prepped and ready to go. 

McKenzie pried off the part of Sweets’ shirt that was now caked with congealing blood. 

Chibs stood there waiting to assist, “It slowed down, but he’s still bleeding, lass. He’s been in and out of it.” 

“Yeah, it’s only a through and through, but he drinks like a fucking sailor which thins the blood,” McKenzie noted as she silently gestured for him to help lift his upper half. There were some pressors in her med kit that would help and she silently gestured for them as she continued examining the wounds. She wanted to make sure there were no small pellets or projectile still lodged inside his shoulder. 

“I was a sailor,” Sweets responds with garbled, half-conscious awareness, “Non sibi sed patriae.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, semper fi and all that shit,” McKenzie muttered, which earned her a glazed over glower from the man she considered an uncle. A glower she happily welcomed because that meant he was in his right mind to be annoyed with her dismissal. 

Meanwhile, across the hall, Gil had gathered everyone else into the lounge room to allow McKenzie and Chibs to work. The room was filled with buzzed up nerves and lots of questions. Gil paced around, his mood shot from how quickly this day had changed from celebratory into damn near deadly. 

“Okay, but seriously, what the fuck happened? Did anyone get a look at the shooters?” Rev asked as he leaned against the side table in front of the TV.

Bobby responded, “They were wearing all black and wore bandanas over their face. At least, one was White. There were three, maybe four, but it was hard to see with the bullets flying every which way.”

“One of those bandanas was the American flag but it had some green and orange in it…” Opie chimed in.

“IRA?” Ace questioned.

“No, the IRA have their own flag.” Gil answered.

“Wait, was it like the stripes that were orange and green?” Cam piped up. He, along with X, were the newest prospects of the Street Wolves. X stayed glued to the wall with his mouth shut, like a prospect was expected to. And Cam was usually inclined to follow suit, but his mind was flashing him back to an odd moment that happened several weeks ago. His eyes flashed over to Brandon, who had been uncharacteristically silent since the shooting took place.

Gil caught Cam’s eyes and noticed the way Brandon had averted his gaze.

“What?” His voice was clipped, impatience on his tongue, “What is it?”

“It’s just that-” Cam only paused in hesitation for a minute but quickly let his words spill past his teeth as he took in how every face in the room was focusing on him. “When me and B made that run to Nevada, I just remembered… Brandon talking to a guy. And that guy had guys with him. And one of them had that same kind of bandana.”

Gil whizzed around to Brandon, nothing but ice in his voice, “What the fuck is he talking about?”

Brandon sighed and rubbed the back of his head with a hand, “Look, before this thing with the property went through, I had doubts that we were gonna be able to cough up the money…” 

Rev could already tell where this was going and he groaned out a “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me..”

Gil slit his eyes at him impatiently, irritated that there was something he was obviously not in the loop about, before facing Brandon again. 

Jax, too, knew exactly where this was heading and the source of how this trouble may have started. He remembers the tense conversation he had to have with the reckless Street Wolf weeks ago for trying to pull in someone from the outside without even consulting Gil.

“There was a guy I knew from another guy and he was willing to put some skin in the game and maybe partner up with us.” Brandon put his hands up in defense at the sounds of indignation and disbelief that encircled the room, “I thought it’d be a good back up plan to have someone who could front us some cash, just in case.”

“Who?” 

By now, Gil’s hands were itching to be wrapped around his once almost son-in-law. His ears were ringing with fury. “Who?” was his simple inquiry, but the lethality in his tone was nothing Brandon wanted to undermine.

He sighed, “It was just some Irish guy,” he rushed out his next words to clear the air, “But he wasn’t fucking IRA, I swear. He told me to my face that he wasn’t affiliated anymore. He got pushed out by some Kings.”

Jax’s blood ran cold.

“Jesus Christ,” It suddenly became all too clear who the gunmen were hired by, “Galen fucking O’Shay?!”

“I swear to God this wasn’t part of the plan. Okay, he was pissed, but he never said anything about killing anybody.”

“Obviously, shit head, otherwise, we’d all be dead! This was a warning more than anything.” Rev supplied.

“Warning for what, though?” Juice implored, “What’s his fucking endgame? He’s mad he didn't get in on the deal, so now he’s just gonna what? Fuck up our shit??”

Opie jumped in, “Odds are he’s still pissy that we got him kicked out of the good graces of the Kings.” Out of the Street Wolves, Gil and Rev were the only ones who knew exactly what he was talking about, about how Jax told the Kings that Galen had been doing outside deals without their knowledge for decades and forthwith got him ex-communicated from the syndicate, “Which means he doesn’t have their backing anymore. Not saying we shouldn’t see him as a threat, considering today, but he doesn’t have the backing he used to.”

“Yeah, he’s probably been waiting for any chance to shoot us in the face after everything that went down,” Bobby contributed and then specifically addressed the Street Wolves, “Shitty that you gents got inadvertently kicked into the crossfire.”

Rev placated, “Nah, don’t worry about that. We all knew this was a possibility when we went into business together.”

“Exactly,” Gil echoed, though not all of the violent chill had left his voice as his eyes never left Brandon, “We’re not here to play the blame game. We just need to come up with a game plan on how to nip this shit in the bud immediately.”

Going legit and staying legit had always been the overarching goal. But even if they decided to let this go unanswered, they had no way of knowing whether Galen would try some shit like this again. For the sake of their livelihood, for the sake of their very lives, this wasn’t something that could just go ignored. Everyone in the room knew it. 

Much like they knew Brandon’s transgressions would have to be answered for. 

Gil locked eyes with Jax and a look of understanding passed between them.

Jax was still fuming himself, but he took the resigned, yet still agitated change in the air to steer this talk to a pause.

“Shit could’ve gotten real dicey. They got the element of surprise on us and it nearly led to losing one of our own. A few inches to the middle and that bullet could’ve easily sliced open Sweets’ heart,” Jax let that sit in the air for a few seconds before continuing, “We’re all hopped up on adrenaline right now, so we’ll leave this until tomorrow. But we will end this shit that Galen started. Nobody’s taking away all that we’ve been working towards.”

He swiped a dirty glare at Brandon while retreating and allowing everyone to take their leave. Several of them slumped over across the hall to check in on Sweets while others either chilled out in the lounge room or left the Garden entirely to take a ride for some fresh air. Jax caught a final glance at Gil and Brandon, the former silently signaling for the latter to follow him.

******

Before he could even react, Brandon felt the pain of his back and side being violently pushed up against the wall of the downstairs Wolves’ Den. He felt dread fill his entire frame as he followed Gil down the steps, past the patrons of the bar, and into the exclusive Wolves-only sanctuary. His trepidation was replaced by pangs of angry throbbing as Gil slammed him yet again against the cold, unforgiving wall.

Not that he would’ve dared fight back to begin with, but he wasn’t even given the chance to before Gil grabbed him by the shirt and thrusted him forward towards the now closed door. This time, the force elicited an agonized yelp from him.

“Ah, fuck!” He looked down and saw that his torso had connected with the knob of the door. There would surely be a bruised indentation of the pointy portion of the lock enclosed into his skin by morning.

He opened his mouth to at least explain himself, “Look, I just thought he would help-” 

“SHUT UP!” Gil’s voice boomed against the four walls of the room, his harsh glare focused on Brandon, “I don’t care what the fuck you thought, you’re not the fucking president of this club. You don’t make decisions and you sure as shit don’t go around trying to make deals without asking for my say so.”

“If we didn’t get the money-”

Gil’s fist connected with the apple of Brandon’s cheek with enough force that the man’s head bounced off the door he’d been holding onto. 

“Shit!” He exclaimed as he knelt down to the floor, clutching onto his cheek and the part of his face that had collided with the door.

“If we didn’t get the money from the bank, we would’ve figured something out. The right fucking way, even if it took longer than we planned. That’s just how the shit goes!” Gil began pacing around the table, attempting to calm his ire, “It wasn’t your fucking concern whether we got the money or not, that’s what Flu and Bobby had been appointed to focus on. Just like I, as the president of this club, has been appointed to make decisions on who does what and whether they have my say so. Did you get my fucking say so?!”

“Prez, if I could just-” Brandon coughed out.

Gil grabbed him by the shirt again and tossed him towards the lengthy table he’d been pacing around.

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you shut the fuck up and actually listen?!” Gil pushed him again, lightly, into one of the chairs. “I don’t wanna hear your goddamn excuses. The beginning and end of your actions ended up leading to Sweets getting a fucking hole in his shoulder.”

Gil sighed and leaned up against one of the chairs, “I know you had good intentions. I know you’re always doing what’s best for the club. The point is, you went over my head and tried to pull some shit that either you knew I wouldn’t approve of or you just wanted it to be some sort of surprise to show off. You thought you knew better, but you didn’t. Pulling a cowboy move like this doesn’t impress me, it pisses me off.” He shook his head at the young, cocky man sitting in front of him, “You want more responsibility, I can see it. But that shit takes trust, and I don't know whether I should put my trust in you after what’s happened.”

“You can trust me,” Brandon interjected, his voice ardent, “I made a mistake. I was just trying to pull my weight. I’ve been in the club almost ten years, Gil, I was just doing what I thought was best to help my brothers. You can’t blame me for that!” 

Gil’s eyes narrowed. There was sympathy in his look, sure, but there was still a whole lot of animosity in his orbs and Brandon wasn’t sure if he was about to wind up with some broken bones or not. 

But still, that small measure of sympathy.

A killer grip landed on Brandon’s shoulder as Gil leaned down and invaded his personal space.

“I’ve got just enough self-control right now not to throw you off the fucking roof. I’m gonna go upstairs. I’m gonna go check on Sweets. I’m gonna go kiss my wife. I’m gonna go take a fucking nap. When I wake back up, the entirety of this goddamn bar better be fucking spotless. If you’re gonna act like a hotshot, like you’re the fucking president of this MC, you’re gonna get treated like a useless ass prospect.” 

Brandon opened up his mouth to protest before Gil halted his words with a sneer, “Close your fucking mouth before I put a gun in it. Consider this a warning. You’re on probation until I say otherwise. You don’t like it? There’s the fucking door.” 

Gil backed away and his anger switched off like a light. It was replaced with dead fatigue now that the adrenaline from earlier had faded. He wandered out of the room and lugged up the stairs to check on his Sergeant-at-arms. Brandon stayed in his seat, rooted with anger in his veins.

*******

Jax sat at the bar, quietly nursing the whiskey Lisa had placed in front of him. She’d left him the entire bottle and he knocked back another shot as he waited for McKenzie to come downstairs. 

Over an hour had passed since she and Chibs had been holed up in the dorm room, taking care of Sweets. He was stable, they knew that much, but he still waited until she finally reappeared. There were several things he had intended on accomplishing today, but the abrupt chaos of earlier had seen to his productivity being squandered for the day.

The traffic of the bar had started to pick up some now that the afternoon was in full swing, and he had barely registered Gil emerging from the dark, secluded hallway that led to the Wolves’ Den. It wasn’t until the Street Wolves president had made his way over to Lisa and sought comfort in her arms that Jax noticed him. The man was still pretty young, about the same age as his mom, but he looked like he had aged ten years since the events of earlier. The presidents exchanged a tight nod before Gil retreated upstairs. 

Only several minutes later, McKenzie had finally appeared. Her eyes immediately met him and she gave him a tired smile as she walked over to where he was. 

“How is he?” 

“Knocked out,” she leaned against the bar and Jax noticed there were still remnants of dried blood under her fingernails. He grabbed a wet wipe from across the bar and handed it to her as she continued giving her assessment, “The bullet was a through and through, so no major damage. Gave him some pressors to stop the bleeding. As long as he stays off the bottle and keeps on his antibiotics, he should be good.” 

“Good,” he blew out a heavy sigh, putting a hand at the back of his head. 

Her eyebrows furrowed at the unease on his face, “He’s actually been shot before. And trust me, this was a miracle compared to that time he took a shiv to the neck when he was in prison… Shit, I was in high school and I still remember it like yesterday, one of the few times I’ve seen my dad cry.”

McKenzie could see he was in his own world as she tried to ease his comforts. She took a side glance and saw that Lisa was in the kitchen. Then, she grabbed his hand. 

“Hey, seriously, he’s okay. And this wasn’t your fault…” When some of the guys came in to check on Sweets, they filled Chibs in on what they had surmised had gone down, not minding that she was in the room, too. McKenzie wasn’t familiar with the name Galen O’Shay, but she heard the bristle in Juice’s voice as he gave an off-hand mention to some of SAMCRO’s dealings with the man. “Whatever history you got with that fucker aside, Brandon was out of his fucking mind to go behind my dad’s back like that,” she said. 

“Yeah, but, darlin’, you don’t know the half of it. This shit with Galen…”

“Is whatever it is,” McKenzie finished for him, “And you don’t have to tell me or explain. This still could have been avoided if that idiot hadn’t been trying to cowboy his way into some brownie points.” 

She didn’t have to have the full context of what played out. She knew that Brandon was always trying to assert himself or showboat his way into getting some shine. During their relationship, it was a common complaint he confided in her; constant harping on what he could do to elevate the club and persistent conviction that he deserved an officer position someday. 

She wasn’t fully aware of SAMCRO’s dealings with the IRA, but she knew enough to surmise that there was a loaded history there. Jax so much as said it just now. And it looked like that rendered itself into blame. Blame that he was obviously shouldering. But there was always something that could go wrong, always the possibility that some former ally or enemy of SAMCRO or the Street Wolves could pop back up. The possibility was always silently hanging in the air, even with as smooth a transition as both clubs had had so far into the world of legitimacy.

Jax planted a forced smile on his face, “Thanks, darlin’.” 

She could see straight through him, but she accepted the squeeze of her arm that he gave. 

He muttered that he was going to go see Sweets before he left and walked to the upper level of the Garden. 

**********

Rev was the last one remaining in the room where Sweets rested after everyone else left to give him time to rest. He sat there quietly for a while, allowing silence to permeate the air, giving the sergeant-at-arms the quiet he needed to recuperate peacefully. He was getting ready to leave from his vigil when the door slid open and Jax made himself known.

Rev nodded his head encouragingly, allowing the SAMCRO president to enter. He gestured towards the chair next to him, the seats far away enough for them to talk quietly and not disturb Sweets’ sleep. 

“Shitty day..” Jax remarked as he sat down.

“Could’ve been a lot shittier,” Rev supplied, turning his gaze back to the wounded man. It would’ve only taken the bullet being off by some inches for this to be an entirely different conversation right now.

Jax nodded in agreement. 

There were a few moments of comfortable silence before Jax spoke again. 

“Listen… About Galen-”

He felt responsible. After everything that happened with Clay and Tig, he took his mind off of taking down Galen O’ Shay. He figured things would be settled after he handed off his arms dealing to the Mayans. The rest of the Kings seemed satisfied that they still had their reach on the West Coast, and last he heard, they were even expanding to south of the border, as well. It was O’Shay who was still holding a vendetta against SAMCRO to the point that he bombed their T.M. clubhouse and got himself banished from the Kings syndicate. Instead of anticipating more revenge coming from the begrudged man, he allowed the situation to be a loose end in order to focus on going legit. Now, depending on what lies ahead, this could jeopardize everything they were working towards.

Almost sensing the burden of blame and responsibility Jax had lied on his shoulders, Rev interrupted him.

“You told us straight up, everything that transpired between SAMCRO and O’ Shay. And we still went into this business together. You came to a deal with the Kings that they agreed on. And that motherfucker was supposed to be persona non grata after he got kicked to the curb. We had no indication that he was just gonna come up out of the blue and try to stir shit up. Or that Brandon’s clown ass would be the in that Galen needed.”

Rev put a comforting hand on his shoulder before continuing, “I don’t need you blaming yourself, man. If anything, there’s enough to place on both clubs. Right now, though? We need all of us to be putting our heads together to figure out what this motherfucker’s deal is, and how to take him down before he ruins everything before we even get started.”

The Street Wolves VP stood from his chair and went to bend down on one knee at the bed, saying a short prayer for Sweets.

He got up and swiped a final glance at Jax before leaving the room, “A bend in the road isn’t the end of the road.” 

Out in the hall, Rev heard an insistent scrubbing noise coming from one of the other dorm rooms. He followed the sound until he reached one of the ensuite bathrooms where he found Brandon on his hands and knees, cleaning the tiles. He only stood there for a second before his presence was noted.

Brandon looked up, contempt in his eyes, “Gil send you to check up on me?”

Rev said nothing, only taking in the new-forming bruises and gashes on Brandon’s face as the man huffed and focused back on the tiles. The young man’s patience was wearing thin, though, so he looked back up and snapped, “Did you need something?!” 

His VP took a measured breath because he didn’t come in here with the intention of adding more physical trauma to the man’s battered form.

“I came here to speak with you, brother to brother, because I need you to understand what happened today,” Rev started. Brandon huffed again, but he dropped the toothbrush and stood so that he was level with him.

“Going off on your own, trying to make shit happen without the knowledge of your brothers… That’s what nearly got Sweets killed today. I get it, you’re trying to get back in Gil’s good graces, you’re trying to earn your keep-”

“If you get it, then why am I still getting my ass handed to me right now?” Brandon interrupted, unable to stop himself. 

“Because anybody would have!” Rev’s voice boomed uncharacteristically. “You think you didn’t deserve this shit?!” He mushed at Brandon’s face and pushed it towards the mirror so that he could see the damage patterning across his features. “Sweets could’ve died!”

“But he didn’t!” Brandon implanted. 

“And what if he did?! You’re acting like today couldn’t have gone any worse, what if Gil got shot? What if I got shot? Any of us?! Do you even fucking care?! We were sitting ducks and that shit could’ve easily been a blood bath, but all you fucking care about is that you’re rightfully suffering the consequences! It’s like that apology meant fucking nothing!”

Rev thought back to that heart to heart he and Brandon had just the other day and wondered whether it was all bullshit.

“Rev-”

This time, Brandon was the one interrupted, “You’re so full of shit. Your first response when Jax confronted you about this shit was making fucking excuses. And now you don’t care that you went behind the club’s back, you care that you got caught and called out. Your ego is gonna be the fucking death of someone, whether it’s you or someone else. You got lucky today and you’re still only focused on yourself, and not your own fucking brother.” Rev looked at him with disgust, “I don’t know how we’re even supposed to trust you, B.” 

“I make one bad move and that’s it?? All your trust is gone? What, you’re gonna tell Gil to bench me?”

Rev looked on at him, registering none of the friendship and brotherhood that was supposed to exist between them, “I’m telling him that I’m keeping a closer eye on you and that you don’t move until I say otherwise.” He shook his head at himself, knowing that some of the blame lied on him too, for not looping Gil in on the fact that Brandon was seeking outside partnership for the club, “Get your fucking act together, Brandon. I can’t be more worried about making sure you’re not fucking up than I am about making sure we’re all safe and our plans don’t get derailed. That’s dangerous for all of us…”

Brandon’s face was hard, but he nodded, knowing that there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t bite him back on the ass. With another disappointed shake of his head yet not another word, Rev left the room. Brandon waited until he could hear the VP’s receding footsteps no more before he released all of his anger, knocking over the bucket of mop water and punching the mirror.

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

“Kinda light crowd in here tonight.” McKenzie remarked. She and Sairah were on one of their regular milkshake dates at the diner in town. 

Sairah looked around, “Just how I like it.”

McKenzie chuckled and then smiled in thanks at the waitress who brought them their blueberry cheesecake shakes. 

“So, I’ve been kind of slacking on the apartment search, I know. I’ll probably start looking online this weekend, it’s not like there’s a lot of rentals here in Highwater.”

Sairah waved her off, “Stay as long as you need. It’s home for as long as you want it to be.” 

The older Gilbert sister smiled again in appreciation. She expected the response, but she still didn’t want to get complacent in not finding a place for herself and moving out. Being one of the lucky ones who enjoyed her career, Sairah often took her work home with her. The small house was filled with small projects of architectural design that the young woman had worked on all by herself. She had bought the property about a year ago and was taking her time, enjoying making the fixer-upper her own. 

McKenzie didn’t want to intrude on her space and so made it a goal of hers to eventually look around Highwater for somewhere of her own. 

It also wouldn’t hurt that it’d be easier to sneak around with Jax at her own place, but that was more of an afterthought than anything. Though, it had come to the forefront of her mind more than once this past week. She looked down at her phone and shook her head to herself. She could at least have some restraint while on her sisterly outing.

She looked up to see that Sairah was on her own phone, texting out a message longer than her usual short responses.

“Rev?” 

An educated guess, but a correct one.

Sairah looked up, “Yeah, just wanted to check on him. Make sure he hasn’t rammed Brandon’s head into a wall, though I would buy him a brand new bike of his choosing if he, in fact, did so.”

McKenzie leaned over in laughter, knowing her sister would never miss an opportunity to take a jibe at her ex-fiancé. 

“I’m sure dad has reamed his ass out good enough for the both of them.”

Sairah hummed, “It’ll never be enough when it comes to his bitch ass,” she took a pause though and looked more thoughtful, “Rev seems to be taking it hard though, so they probably exchanged words.”

“Not surprised.”

If there was anyone that Brandon was closest to in the club, it would, of course, be to the man that sponsored him. Whether the responsibility lied on him or not, Rev couldn’t help but feel hurt and betrayed from Brandon’s actions.

“Maybe he’ll finally learn to stop doing stupid shit, considering someone could’ve been killed today.”

“Knowing him, he probably thought he was doing the right thing.”

Sairah paused her milkshake slurping to give McKenzie a pointed stare.

“What?” Confusion filled her words. “You agree with him going behind dad’s back?”

McKenzie shook her head and frowned, “No, I hope he got his head chewed off. But I think, in his own misdirected way, he was just trying to do the right thing.” There were moments, maybe when no one else could, she could see his convoluted way of trying to help. Maybe this was one of those times or maybe another misconception of the good she thought she first saw when they began their relationship. She recalled these kinds of moments from the past five years and wonders how many times she was right about his intentions and how many times he had only put up a facade that she had no ability to see through.

“You okay, Kenz?”

She flashed a weak smile and replied, “Yeah. Today’s just been a long day.” 

Sairah nodded in understanding and stood up with her purse, “I’ll go settle up.” 

McKenzie glanced at her phone and sighed. Shit. She had zero self-restraint. Without even allowing her mind to convince her out of the thought, she picked up the phone and opened the text thread she shared with Jax. 

To Jax: “Home yet?” -Sent at 8:55 p.m.

Less than thirty seconds pass.

From Jax: “ 🥺 Is princess missing me?” -Sent at 8:55 p.m.

She giggled loudly, not expecting to see the SAMCRO president ever use an emoji. Sairah looked up from the register with a bewildered look that McKenzie waved off with a mouthed “Tik tok video.”

To Jax: “I’m princess now?” -Sent at 8:56 p.m.

To Jax: “Btw didn’t even know you knew what emojis were 😭” -Sent at 8:56 p.m.

From Jax: Sure I do! There’s even a 😡 next to your name in my contacts” -Sent at 8:56 p.m.

To Jax:“Why the 😡?!” -Sent at 8:57 p.m.

From Jax: “You’re very mean to me 😂. I’m thinking brat might be a better name than princess…” -Sent at 8:57 p.m.

To Jax:“I can dig it 😏” -Sent at 8:57 p.m.

From Jax: “Get to my place in 20, let’s see how reckless that mouth gets in person”  -Sent at 8:58 p.m.

Sairah was back from the register and had been standing impatiently for about two minutes before she finally drew McKenzie’s attention with a dramatic sigh. 

“Ok, either you and Evie are talking shit about someone or you’re about to go get slutted out. Which is it?” 

Slutted out.

**********

Jax had opened the front door before McKenzie even made it up the two steps up onto his porch. 

“Eager much?” She shot at him with a smirk, much like the way he did during their New Year’s night. 

His eyes darkened at the jab, but also at the fact that she was wearing a dress. He had only seen her for the first time in a dress at the New Year’s party and on this second occasion, he had only just now come to the conclusion that he really liked her in dresses. He watched the material sway against her legs as she walked past him and ambled into the living room.

When he followed her in, he saw that she was sitting on the couch and her eyes had softened. She didn’t say anything, she hadn’t wanted to bring up how Jax was obviously blaming himself for Sweets getting shot. But she also didn’t want this to go further without knowing he was in somewhat of a better mood. 

Jax seemed to pick up on all of that, her internal dilemma, without words needing to be exchanged. 

He shook his head in a mellow dismissal.

It is what it is. 

Another set of words that didn’t need to be said because they were understood completely. 

Instead of letting unease circle the air, he roamed his eyes over her frame again, admiring everything he saw.

“You look pretty tonight.”

She had also taken out her twists and he pulled back a curly lock as she smiled bashfully at the compliment. 

“Just felt like switching it up. Me and Lisa went for a little retail therapy the other day and I decided to freshen up my wardrobe. Though, remind me to never buy a strappy heel ever again because I feel like my feet are gonna fall off from the cut off circulation.”

Jax chuckled and lifted her feet into his lap. He slowly unwound the high heels from her feet and massaged them firmly once free. She watched him through it all in amusement, but also a bit of wonderment.

At his curious simper, she remarked, “Oh, I just love how you told me to come over for an explicit booty call, but now we’re relaxing, fully clothed, on your couch with you rubbing my feet.” 

Laughter filled the living room as they enjoyed the joke, but his hands began to slowly creep up her leg.

“Trust me, princess, I definitely meant what I said about that mouth getting you into trouble one of these days.”

His lips chased after his hands, pebbling sweet and light kisses from her ankles all the way up to her thighs. A heated path that eventually had her lying down flat on the couch and his hands grasping her hips. His lips were everywhere, but still not exactly where she wanted him. Feather light pecks in the crease of her hip. His tongue trailing slightly along her skin. His teeth nipping at her black lace panties. 

“Jax, hurry the fuck up.” She finally let out in a rough whisper, not able to bear his silent taunting for much longer.

His eyes darkened, “What did I tell you, darlin’?” 

Still though, he obliged by finally sliding down her panties. Even opted to send zaps of pleasure her way by licking at her sensitive bundle of nerves. Played nice to lull her into the false security that she would be in charge tonight.

He lapped and lapped and lapped. Alternated in a frenzied rhythm between sucking on her clit and entering her with his tongue. Purposely avoiding any kind of pattern and working hard to elicit louder moans and mewls from her.

He honed in on the way that her hips were writhing, riding his face. Her hands didn’t know where to go, oscillating between grabbing onto his hair and holding onto the couch. Her pussy throbbed desperately, searching for its peak, and an instant right before he felt like she had found it…

He removed his mouth entirely from her and sat up.

The  desperate yelp was met with an unforgiving smirk.

“Something you need, babe?”

“Fuck you.” 

“Wrong answer,” he shot back without missing a beat. His hands slipped up her thighs and hips again, but yet again, detoured away from where she wanted him. His fingers danced along her landing strip and she watched him watch her clench around nothing.

“Jax.” She whimpered his name.

“Aww, poor baby..” He mocked her and placed a light kiss on her lips. And then said, “We’re gonna start that all over again and this time, you’re gonna mind your fucking manners.”

Fire rose behind her eyes and her desperation flipped into a frown. She nearly growled at him until…

She inhaled a loud gasp at the sudden sensation of stinging pleasure. She closed her eyes in ecstasy at the feeling of him rubbing where he had just slapped. The shock of him slapping her pussy coupled with the surprise of just how much she liked it sent unadulterated delectation through her veins. 

“Look at me.”

She obeyed.

The fire hadn’t necessarily left her eyes, it had just transformed from indignation to passion and anticipation. He nipped at her neck and she mewled for more. 

He began to repeat himself, “We’re gonna start this all over again.” His hands pulled for the hem of her dress and pulled it off of her. “You’re gonna mind your manners and watch your fuckin’ mouth, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

He had already begun to nod for her, but she nodded with him in dire agreement. Tears from pleasure began to gather in her eyes as he swirled his tongue around one of her nipples and rolled the other in between his fingers. 

“Because you wanna cum, don’t ya?”

She hummed, barely able to muster the control to do even that.

“Say it.” 

McKenzie looked at him in earnest.

“I want to cum.” 

His eyebrow lifted.

“Please. I want to cum please.” 

He continued his kisses lower and lower. 

And she continued her begging, “Please. Please. Please.”

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

McKenzie slid her floral a-line dress back on and moved to find where Jax had tossed her heels. 

“You heading home?” He asked as he reappeared from the hallway, wearing only a pair of sweats. A triumphant smile remained painted on his face at the fully sated woman in his living room. After leaving her a shaking mess with only his tongue and fingers, he had asked her what position she wanted. And then, turned right around and forced her to ask for him to put her in said position. There’d be hand-shaped bruises flowering her hips pretty soon from the way he gripped her as she bounced in his lap until they hit their peaks together. 

McKenzie nodded in answer to his question, with a lazy smile, as she sat down on the couch to don the white strappy shoes.

There was a thick silence in the air and she peeked over into the kitchen to see that it was past midnight. She wasn’t sure what caused the sudden shift in the room, but she figured she needed to go ahead and get home. If she could even walk to get to her car. 

Jax sat opposite to her on the coffee table and looked up with sincerity in his eyes.

“I- uh… I wanted to thank you for earlier today.,” McKenzie’s eyes dipped in confusion, “When you were trying to comfort me about Sweets.”

She merely smiled and reached for his hand.

“I’ve been the guy who takes on all the blame before. And this wasn’t all on me. I accept that. I gotta get comfortable with the idea that not everything bad that happens around me lies solely on me. But no matter what two ways you cut it, this still could’ve been avoided had I done a better job tying up Galen as a loose end,” she squeezed his hand in comfort and he returned her smile, “but moping about it isn’t gonna turn back time…”

“No,” she agreed, “But don’t feel like you have to hole it all up either. Go figure out how to get things back on track and where to go from here. …But if you ever need someone to confide in- or someone to take your frustrations out on in bed…” she cracked with a grin, “I’m your girl.”

He mirrored her with his own grin and held onto her hand as she stood, “You’re my girl,” he muttered.

“I’m gonna go,” she placed a goodbye kiss on his lips. 

He returned in fervor and placed a final kiss on the back of her hand as he walked her to the door.

Without another word, she walked out and got into her car. He watched at the door until she was backing out of the driveway and driving away from Charming and back into Highwater.

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

Brandon sat, still steaming, in a random pub in Charming. After leaving the Garden, he needed to be somewhere far away from everything and everyone that infuriated him. He couldn’t go too far to find an open bar when it was already past 1 a.m. when he had finally finished cleaning the entire facility. Thus, he settled for the small municipality only a couple of towns over. Highwater was only ever filled with people he’d known his entire life. He supposed the same was probably true for the people who lived here in Charming, but it was as foreign as Paris or Rio to him. 

It didn’t matter that he was out of Highwater or that he was five, going on six drinks into the tank. 

He was still pissed and the distance and alcohol had only dampened his anger. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be fully extinguished anytime soon. It infuriated him to no end that he had taken initiative for the betterment of this club, for his brothers, and it landed him on bad terms with his president and VP. He didn’t fucking shoot Sweets and he was in just as much danger of getting hit. Like everyone was. And no matter what Gil or Rev said, they would’ve never laid into any of the other Street Wolves like that if they were in his predicament. Brandon was sure of it.

It ripped him up that they couldn’t even see that he was trying to be a leader. Trying to make moves. It should’ve been obvious that he didn’t want anything like the shootout to have transpired. 

“Well, if it isn’t Deputy Unser!”

Brandon looked up and immediately tensed at the sound of a cop being in his presence. 

The older man shook hands with the bartender and took a seat only halfway down the bar from Brandon. He wasn’t wearing his sheriff’s uniform and he looked down, looking disappointed with himself as he accepted the bourbon from the tender.

“Rough day, chief?”

“Yeah, that drive down to the women’s prison is even worse than to Stockton,” he groaned, his bones already weary in age, even without his routine, round trip visits to the Central California Women's Facility. 

The bartender chuckled, “Well, then stop making the drive. Make one of your deputies haul the prisoners back and forth, you should be on a fast ticket to retirement any day now, anyway.”

Unser winced and knocked his drink back, “Actually, the drives are more of a personal errand than for work..” he hesitated but continued on with another pour from the tender. He had no reason to assume that anyone would want to eavesdrop on an old man drinking what little was left of his cancer-riddled liver. “Gemma Teller’s down there now, you know. After everything that happened..”

Brandon was just about to lower his own senses and go back to minding his own mess when he heard the name “Teller.” 

The bartender had shuddered, “Gemma was always nice to me. A firecracker, sure, but she always asked about my sons and invited my wife into her book club. Can’t believe she gets to spend the rest of her life behind bars and that rotten son of hers prances in and out of town like he’s not as much of a monster as his stepdaddy.”

Unser looked on in bitterness but shook his head at the bartender.

But the tender didn’t back down from his indignance, “No, he’s been lettin’ his mama rot for damn near a year and you mean to tell me you or not even the goddamn ATF could hook the Sons on some charges?” The man poured Unser some more brown liquor and wiped the counters, still shaking his head in disgust, “And then he goes and leaves his pregnant wife… Abandons his unborn child, sticks his stepdaddy in prison, sticks his mother, his blood, into Chowchilla. It’s a wonder his bike brothers still trust him, son of a bitch ain’t loyal to fuckin’ nothin!”

The bartender’s droning rant faded into the recesses of Brandon’s mind as he absorbed the information that had just been divulged to him. All that shit he had to hear about loyalty, basically being told to put up or shut up. And then Rev had had the nerve to bring up Jax during their earlier confrontation, about how Jax was right, that all Brandon had done was make excuses.

Well shit, what kind of excuses did the SAMCRO president have for what he had just learned? Did his own brothers know how cold-blooded he was?

Jax had come into the Garden acting all high and mighty, like he was doing the Street Wolves a favor by partnering up with them. And everyone had just gone along with it. Maybe Gil had no idea the kind of man he had gotten the Street Wolves mixed up with.

But he was about to.

A/N: There’s always two sides to every story? 👀 I know it’s been a minute since I updated, but I’m sooo happy to put this chapter out. I’m hoping the 10k+ word count somewhat makes up for the hiatus lol. Pleaseee let me know what you think. As always, reblog if you enjoyed and share the love 

Taglist: @drabbles-mc@ocfairygodmother@youlovetkay@est1887@rebelwrites@hey-taylor-hey@brownsugarcoffy @kmhappybunny240@readsalot73 @nunya7394 @mijagif @asirensrage @bimbims-posts

[techav]

So I have this printer ...

Not that one specifically, that one is beautiful and in great condition, but one like it — Apple ImageWriter II. Specifically mine is the ImageWriter II/L variant, the last revision of the ImageWriter II line, but it looks like this one.

Or at least it did once upon a time.

My family acquired this printer second-hand in the late 90s along with a Mac Classic. It got used regularly for school reports and letters and business documents and tax forms for a few years until we finally were able to get a new computer with a color inkjet printer.

Long story short, like the computer that went with it, ultimately this poor printer ended up sitting in storage without air conditioning in East Texas heat and humidity for nearly twenty years. It's a sad story of slow decay.

My ImageWriter is now yellowed and scuffed and scraped and rusted and missing a piece or two; just a dim reminder of its former beauty. Given the state of it, what hope do we have of ever again hearing it sing the song of its people?

Well, I'm not going to let it go without a fight. Time to dig in and see what we can ...

... oh. Oh dear that won't do at all.

A good rule to follow when working with these 30+ year old systems, is to (carefully!) open and inspect before applying any power. In this case I'm very glad I did. Three large filter capacitors on the power supply have very obviously swollen and burst, spreading their corrosive bile all over the neighborhood.

The back side of the power supply circuit board was a wasteland of rotting solder mask, corroded traces, and displaced silkscreen. The electrolyte has eaten its way down the leads, through the solder, and left carnage in its wake all across the bottom of the board.

First order of business is getting those old capacitors removed from the board so cleanup can begin. If you've never worked with hardware of this vintage, a fair warning — make sure you're working in a well-ventilated area. Sure the solder has lead and the flux ain't great for the lungs, but the big concern here is the unholy stench of heated capacitor electrolyte hitting the nostrils like the revenge of Poseidon's refuse bin. The local fish market has nothing on these things.

The old solder, especially when mixed with the electrolyte, tends to behave in a very un-solder-like fashion. It will refuse to melt and when it does it will slump around like wet sand rather than flow like liquid metal should. While it may seem counter-intuitive, the best way to get rid of it is to add more fresh solder to it. On these single-sided boards with large components like this, a spring-action solder pump works well for getting the old parts removed, and then some solder braid will clean up the pads well.

Once the old parts are out, I like to thoroughly clean the area with isopropyl alcohol to remove the electrolyte and years of grease and dirt and pet hair that may have cemented itself to the board. In this case I also needed to use a mild abrasive to remove that damaged solder mask where it had bubbled up off the corroding copper traces. I was lucky here that none of the traces were actually broken or corroded through completely. Clear nail polish works well for protecting the now bare copper (just make sure it's not the UV-cure gel stuff).

From here I turned my attention to the case, because the power supply is the last item removed and first installed when conducting a complete tear down of this printer, and it didn't make sense to put my newly cleaned power supply into a dirty old case.

I'm not really a fan of retrobrite, and these large case pieces would be a real challenge anyway. So all I want is to clean up the dirt and rust and as many scuff marks as I can. As far as I'm concerned, the rest is just part of the history of the item. Each mark tells a story of how this item was used, not just put up on a shelf to be looked at. And if I didn't have any interest in using the machine until it completely falls to pieces, I wouldn't be bothering with going fishing replacing old capacitors.

This is a good point to do some testing. There may still be more wrong with that power supply. Output voltages could have drifted out of spec from other components aging, or maybe I installed capacitors that don't quite match the originals. The ImageWriter II/L power supply has three outputs — +5VDC, -5VDC, & +26VDC. With no load on the power supply, I measured the outputs at around ±7V and 30V. That seems high, but it's not outside of what I would expect for a power supply that's not actually driving anything. This would be a good point to use an adjustable test load, but since I don't have one of those, I'll just have to move forward with my "well it seems fine'

Spoiler: it was not fine.

As part of its startup sequence, the ImageWriter exercises all of its stepper motors to get everything to a known state. This high current draw immediately after power on was more than its old power supply could give. There's clearly more than bad capacitors on the supply, but identifying what exactly is still beyond my current skill level.

So in the interest of getting the machine working (because I have plans for it), I opted to try replacing the power supply with something more modern. The catch here is the odd assortment of voltages the original supply provided. It's easy to find a ±5VDC supply, but 26V is virtually unheard-of.

Apple's documentation for the printer mentions the +26V supply is for driving the motors. I suspected that the 26V supply was less carefully regulated and probably targeting something more like 24V. Sure enough, the stepper with the highest voltage rating on its label was 24V. With a little extra current capacity available, I figured the printer would function just fine with a 24V supply.

The catch is, 24V & ±5V is not a common configuration. There are plenty of 12V & ±5V supplies, but that won't do here. I settled on a Mean Well 24V & 5V supply with a -5V inverter ... And promptly ordered the wrong part. I had a nice new 12V & 5V supply. That's ok, once I got it in hand it was a bit too large to fit in the space I had anyway.

So I got a different Mean Well 24V supply and a separate 24V-5V DC-DC converter. It's a bit of a mess all crammed into the bottom of the case, but it should give all the right voltages (or near enough).

I did have to remove the power switch from the old supply though. That particular part has long since been discontinued, and compatible replacements proved difficult to find.

Now that it's all assembled, it's time to test. This is the part that always makes me nervous, especially when dealing with mains voltages. There's so much that can go so very horribly wrong.

I started out with a smoke test — switching on power briefly to make sure there were no direct shorts that might cause an explosive failure. No smoke is a good sign, so check the voltages. With no load, the new supply rails read 23.99V, 5.00V, and -5.55V. That's about as good as I could ever ask for. So now there's only one thing left to test … does it actually print?

Success!

It's not perfect. Every once in a while it will stutter while printing and get stuck with the carriage on one side or the other. It really needs a complete disassembly, thorough cleaning, and relubrication. That kind of mechanical teardown is a bit beyond what I'm comfortable with at the moment, but I'll happily settle for mostly working over not working at all.

[christotokos]

⭐ ✨ 🍇

⭐ share a snippet where a character is the best at something

from unpublished selkie fic

He'd broken into Bob Sheldon's house, expecting to find a kept omega inside. 

That was the rumor after all: Cherry had died, and Bob had found himself a foreign omega who he'd brought back with him, had all those pups with constantly. No one had seen them, no one had breathed a word of them when they worked there, but every two or so years, Bob had accumulated children who all looked very alike from their pale skin to their bright eyes to their freckled cheeks. 

None of whom resembled him in the least: not the blonde hair, not his cheeks, not his ears. Not a damn thing. It's all dark hair, supple cheeks, and slightly pointed ears on them all.

It hadn't mattered much to Dallas. He just wanted to rob him, and if he had to scare an omega to get access to Bob's money, he was doing it. It wouldn't quite do as revenge for what he'd done to Johnny all those years ago — it'd still hurt his pride and enrich Dallas. 

That was well enough. 

So he'd planned it all with Shepard and Two-Bit. Two-Bit was at the getaway car, waiting for a signal and Shepard was busy looting other parts of the enormous mansion Sheldon lived in, that was on every paper and every camera where he could swing it. 

It was gaudy, slathered in too much gold, and it makes Dallas annoyed with how large it is. 

✨ share a snippet featuring night time

from a to be published hanahaki fic

The cabin isn't boring, at least. 

Andrew can't help the thought as he parks the rental car. It's a nice cabin, something out of those rustic television shows or some little fantasy. It's got a nice porch, with a shelf there lined with jars full of flowers with carefully down labels. There's a paper bag there with a name on it, and there's a few windows that show that inside, lights are on. 

It's perfectly tucked into the woods here, difficult to find, just on the edge of what was normally "civilization" so to speak. He gets out of the car, adjusting his glasses as he grasps his bag, swings it over his shoulder, and walks up the steps. It's not that hard given his height and when he raps on the door, he announces himself with, "It's Andrew." 

🍇 share a snippet with food(or the palpable lack of food)

from a to be published hanahaki fic

"You've been having company?" Andrew has to stoop a bit to get inside. The inside furnishings haven't changed that drastically: still a sofa in one corner, with a duvet tossed over it; books left on most surfaces; the television on low, clearly without a care of what was on it; the bedroom door is closed; there's a shelf full of jars with labels that needs his immediate attention, and the kitchen is as busy as ever. He can smell the smoked salmon as he puts down his bag. "Or have you been having customers?" 

"Customers," is the reply he gets, the door shutting. "You want a beer or water?" 

"Water," Andrew says, looking for any other change. "I prefer not to drink on the job."

"This is more of a meal than work," is the protest he receives. "Unless you have a whole kit stored in the trunk of your car." 

"Not a whole kit," Andrew hums as he crosses the room, going to the shelf of jars. "These labels are accurate, Ponyboy?" He runs his fingers over them: they're dated, with some types written on there in Ponyboy's neat cursive. They all seem to be consistent, a few months apart which is a good sign.

"Accurate as I can remember," Ponyboy calls out, and there's the sound of something hitting the pan and sizzling. It mixes with the other scents of flowers and bread and Andrew doesn't mind it as he inspects the jars. "You're only here for a check-in, right? Nothing big?" 

He can sense the nervousness in his statement. Andrew thinks that's a little silly, given how long they've known each other at this point. His appointments here were never as invasive, never as in depth as the ones in a proper hospital, nor could they be.

Andrew turns over a jar with very little in it, squinting. "No. This is just a general assessment. You've been using the flowers more and more." It's a simple statement that he knows Ponyboy will follow on his own. "But you've been giving up less and less flowers." 

There's the sound of something being flipped in the pan. "Haven't had as many incidents is all. Almost done, could you set the table, please?" 

Andrew takes the jar with him to the table. It's a nice table: round, sanded down and with a nice finish that tells him that Ponyboy made it. There's a bowl of fresh greens and lettuce in the center with salad fixings beside it that are swiftly joined by a plate with a salmon on it and rice. The beer cans keep it very much like Ponyboy as he sets them down beside Andrew.

[lyrabythelake]

I love your Lost Prince AU so much!! Do you have any snippets to share? :)

Hi Anon! I'm so glad you like my Lost Prince AU!! I'm afraid I haven't had nearly enough time or motivation to write much over the past few months and that AU seems to be fading into the background. I might get back to it one day but I wouldn't get your hopes up. Instead have an extra long snippet from the next chapter of A Dark Horizon that's been sitting in my drafts for a million years. I hope it does a little to make up for it!

He ran his fingers over it curiously to find that it was, in fact, made of real animal fur, and on further inspection a pelt of some kind, not unlike those some Ordonians wore. Usually, they were made from rabbit fur, or, less commonly… from wolf fur. Twilight pulled his hand back suddenly as if struck by static. He recognised it now, could smell it in the air, a scent that should not have been as familiar as it was.  Did someone see him last night? Had they somehow connected the dots? His heart pounded as he ran through what that meant, how the people of his village would hunt down wolves and wear their skins like trophies. He had worked himself into quite a panic before he saw the letter, a small piece of parchment gilded with the royal crest and folded once over. It held merely two short sentences, a piteous number of words considering the embellishments surrounding it. A gift from your brother. Beware the Crystal - Time Twilight’s first thought was relief. The pelt was from King Time, ill-thought out as he believed it was–-was it a joke? It seemed a little insensitive given last night’s harrowing experiences–-it meant there wasn’t some unknown stranger somewhere who knew his secret. His second thought was that Time had called him his ‘brother.’ Realistically he knew it was a fact, a strange one that he still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around, but to have it written on paper, for the king to truly see him in that way to an extent to sign his name as such, a small village rancher who would otherwise had lived and died in Ordon, was still baffling to him. He had never had a big brother and had always taken on that role with Colin and the other children in the village, but the idea of having someone be that for him was not a bad one.  His third thought brought a dry sort of smirk to his face. What would it mean, truly, to wear this pelt in public? It would be a statement in many ways–a statement of fashion, for wolf pelts were most certainly not in line with Hyrule’s eclectic, but distinguished, style; a statement of personality, for to wear this would be truly embracing his agricultural roots and would set himself apart from his brothers in a way the aristocrats of Hyrule wouldn’t be able to deny. Lastly, of course, and it was this thought that brought the smile to his face, it would be blaring last night's events in plain view. To Twilight, and his rather unusual sense of humour, it was an entertaining idea. So it was that he adorned his usual green tunic, the clasps altered to suit his simpler acclimations, and fit the pelt over the top. It was thick and bulky, and there was no denying it would make him noticeable, a prospect he had tried his best to avoid up until this point. It was not often that Twilight look at himself in mirrors; he had never been one to care particularly about the way he looked (something that prompted Ilia to tell him begrudgingly once, “you don’t care because you don’t have to. You manage to look good with your face smeared with goat dung; some of us have to actually try,” to which he blushed fiercely and hastily changed the subject), but he looked at himself now in the large, ornately framed looking-glass on his wall. The pelt gained him a sort of barbarian-esque look, and as he turned to look over his shoulder, he found that he liked it. He had tried so hard thus far to fit in, to mirror Castle Town’s expectations of how a prince ought to look, that he quite fancied this new, powerful, and considerably un-princely, style. Besides, the hood would keep him warm this Winter.