#but once again im so limited by my knowledge which is still nothing

[kassandragreyson]

Human!Q v. Q!Picard discussion

Ok, so I finally watched Helluva Boss season 2, and I already had a comparison post about Stolitz/Qcard last year.

After episode 11 and 12 I got some ideas on how Qcard relationship would work between two absolutely different species.

Picard

Picard's main problem is Q’s omnipotence and high stance in the galaxy level, which obviously does not sit right with him in relation to their equality. Q has constantly overruled Picard's decisions due to his "knowledge" and "experience," and if Q does not see it as a problem, Picard cannot be in a relationship where his own opinion and experience are undermined only because he is a human. Also, i feel like he kinda considers Q's involvement as cheating the system.

Q

Q's main problem is Picard's limitation: in his lifespan, in experience, in thinking and open minding. Q simply can not understand why this human is so stubborn and does not let Q guide his Capitan in the right direction since he already knows the proper way.

Obviously, these two are hard to to see on a long-term run despite their other matches such as Picard's desire for an adventure partner who is ready to go anywhere he goes and Q's desire to be with someone who does not see him as a God to obey to and rather a some nuisance instead.

I do think Q is tired of the conatant treatment of being the highest creature, so being treated with some sort of disrespect and ignorance like Picard does to him, makes him feel real and alive as it keeps him entertained enough, and that's why he will never be bored of Jean-Luc, because no matter what, the Capitan will never be soft and obedient toy in his hands, his mind, will to explore and love for life are what keeps Q amused and excited.

Im not even bringing the Q Continuum. Obviously, Q feels rather like a black sheep around them, so it's logical for him to look for a companionship somewhere else.

But taking into consideration what if one of them change? Who is it likely to be?

I think it's Q.

Being mortal is terrifying but does it worth it?

Look, Picard rather die thousands times than become something else than human. And it's not only because he is afraid of spend enternity with Q, but rather, being even not the most religious man, he still wants to end up in places where all humans go. Exploration of the universe means nothing for him without his crew, family and friends.

I also think he hopes to see Robert and Rene once again and that's why Q is not in his afterlife plans.

He could see himself spending some time with Q while he still alive, even fantasizing about all the possible adventures they could go into, but death? No no, he wants to reunite with his family and friends and maybe then go for even further parts of the universe.

Also, he isn't a fan of the way Q work, he finds them rather spoiled and ignorant and way too overpowered. Entitled even. There is no way he will ever become one of them, unless it is a sacrifice for the best (then he can pretend that he did not have a choice), as his biggest fear is to become someone else (e.g. borg) but human.

That leaves us with Q, going down to his level.

Yes, Q was terrified in Deja Q of becoming the vulnerable mortal, no powers and no ways to cheat. For a being like him it was as if human became a worm, too hard to comprehend.

But out of all he came to Jean-Luc, person of trust and love. He basically said to his siblings that do with me what you want as long as Picard is near by.

I feel like that if Q would be kept as human for longer, the only reason for him not going crazy and really trying to become a decent human being is Picard's approval.

Here comes my #dark!Jean-Luc arch. Jean-Luc is a man of many qualities but we also see him as pretty selfish partner. He isn't compromising in his love life, his job is always a priority so his partner has to be on the same side. So he is looking for easy and not demanding person ( yeah you think Q is far away from being not demanding but hear me out) to be with.

Q is a temptation, but he only ever goes for him only if Q becomes a human. That's basically it. He wants q as he is, adventurous, mouthy, filthy, cocky spoiled brat but as long as he is on the same level with Picard.

He can make Q his lover or even a partner as long as Q is not a threat, as long as he is made of blood and flesh.

You see, Picard is man of pride, but he cannot overcome his own insecurities when it comes to his decisions.

He needs to know that Q is not going to be always right or give him a cheat code to any issue. He wants it to be real on his own terms.

Q is not comfortable for him as Q. But as human...he will definitely give it a shot.

And there where I see Q giving in. It does not matter how depressed he can be from becoming a mortal, once Jean-Luc shows an interest in HIM he will do anything to keep it going. If that means forget his Q identity, he will as he is too desperate for Jean-Luc's love and affection.

I even can see that if there going to be a choice, between him getting back into Q Continuum but forgetting about Picard and him staying as human and being with Picard he will choose Jean-Luc.

And it would be a sick win win since Jean-Luc would be delusional and he would take it as Q being truly genuine and wanting to be a human like him is a true desire since "obviously" being human is not that bad for a billion years cosmic entity, right?

But for Q it's a way to tell his family to fuck off, you see he loves me, he wants me, I can be without you as I was right, mon Capitan truly desires only me, which is also delusional but in so different manner.

Both of them are getting what they want but being in denial of the truth. They both lie to themselves and to each other but nothing of it probably will even come out as they are too far into this game.

Conclusion

Jean-Luc being a narcissistic manipulative asshole towards Human!Q and Human!Q being a complete mess but with his Capitan.

Continuum would leave these two alone, they wanna see how it ends and when Q will open up his eyes.

Cuz if Jean-Luc ever decides to break up with Q and Q gave up his powers to be with this man... Boy of boy. What can happen. Even being mad at Q for his choice and words, Continuum will return Q his powers just to see how it will play out for Picard and his ignorance.

[yooniesim]

this as a prime example of what is wrong with simblr (and tumblr in general). this ask was sent to me within like less than a day of that post about cf going up, while I was away for the weekend and not at pc for days. I did not even see the post until right before I got this ask. yall are so damn terminally online that you lost the gd plot and cannot comprehend someone not keeping their finger on the dying pulse of the performative activism headquarters of the internet. and you definitely can't comprehend waiting for complete info or maybe just a full day before starting some reactionary bs. just peeking in here since yesterday i see that simblr is yet again so hyped up on smelling its own farts that it's turned an issue of genocide into yet another dick measuring contest of who can reblog more posts than one another the fastest so they can look more empathetic and better than anyone else. and call themselves "real activists" for being able to click the reblog button. not to mention the usual spamming anons to random people minding their own business. yall are weird as fuck and need to get a firm grip on some grass. stop making the horrific suffering of others about yourselves for once.

that being said, let me get serious for the people on here that are actually normal. for those that don't know by now, this anon seems to be referencing this post about cf, which talks about overwolf (the company that owns curseforge) donating to the IDF. But I also found this tweet by OOP made after that post that explains they have since received DMs from Overwolf stating that they have shifted their relief efforts to aiding victims that have lost their homes from the Hamas terrorist attacks exclusively and do not fund the IDF. this is a much better cause as the victims of terrorism definitely deserve to be helped, and it makes sense they would do this as an Israeli company. The DMs also clarify that it is donation based and nothing uploaded to cf (cc/mods) contributes to this effort whatsoever. As well as Overwolf/Curseforge revenue in general. So simply using curseforge does not mean that you fund or endorse genocide. OOP calls their new efforts commendable in that tweet but I am still looking into and keeping an eye on this matter since, as we know, more information could come out later that contradicts this. And since I have been away im still catching up on everything that has been posted relating to cf.

here are the pics for those that may not have Twitter. do I still support a boycott for those that want to? oh, absolutely. I know that many will still want to boycott regardless, and I'll be working to add alt links to my cc uploads as soon as possible (the ones that don't already have them) for those that don't want to use it. However, everyone I've seen wanting to boycott seems to want to do it because a) they believe overwolf is funding the IDF (apparently is not true) b) they believe having their uploads on cf or downloading from there will fund the IDF (apparently is not true) or c) overwolf itself is an Israeli company (is definitely true). therefore based on the new info we now have some may decide not to boycott after all or will still do so, it is a personal decision. will I be deleting my account there? for now, no.

to be completely honest, I'm in a really bad place financially right now, and while it isn't much, the little bit I get from cf downloads has been exclusively going towards my meds and dr appointment bills. I don't have the option right now to turn down the small amount of added income when I am currently living day to day, especially with the updated knowledge that simply having cc uploaded there does not contribute to their donation efforts in any way. I do not paywall my cc and never will and I do not ask for donations myself, so my options are somewhat limited. although I do not make cc with the aim of getting paid, I ultimately wouldn't be able to justify the sheer amount of time I spend on it if it wasn't helping me with my medical bills currently, as I am already caregiving with the majority of my time. I'm not reliant on cc making or cf to live, and I never want that to be the case god forbid, but in full transparency it is helping me with my healthcare expenses atm and I cannot afford to neglect my health anymore than I have. especially since, as established earlier, using cf does not contribute to the IDF in the first place. so I personally do not judge anyone that continues to use cf for this reason.

also, for the record so there is no confusion on my personal views, I fully support the freedom of Palestine and condemn genocide first and foremost, as well as terrorism and antisemitism. The current situation in Gaza is abhorrent and I encourage all my followers to not only reblog posts, but educate yourselves on the situation and bring it irl as you are able. Speak with the people you love as well as those you are acquainted with and bring this to this to their attention (if you feel safe to). Attend protests if you can. If you cannot, make the calls and emails to your representatives, sign petitions, and donate as you are able. I have been seeing that even spreading Palestinian culture among your loved ones and peers is helpful. So even if you are in a bad place mentally, that may be an option to spread the positive message of the Palestinian people in your everyday life. I'll be reblogging the posts I already did earlier and some new ones too so you can find those updated links. I will be tagging it with palestine so that it can be found easily on my page.

In addition, be kind. To others and yourself. Try to see the full damn picture instead of a snapshot. What someone posts on tumblr of all places does not reflect an entire person's being, or their efforts, or their heart. Yelling your head off on this dying website does not equal activism, and running your mental health into the ground taking on the weight of the world doesn't give you any more control over the issues we face- I learned that the hard fucking way, believe me. By all means share as much as you like, every bit helps (especially if you have a lot of followers), but keep in mind that it certainly doesn't make you better than anyone else. I know it's extremely difficult to feel helpless and you want to feel like you're doing something, but just make sure you're doing the right things for the right reasons. Please do not fucking attack random people for not responding within one business day of the latest info coming out. And take time away from all this shit to breathe. You can't help anyone if you're fucked up yourself. especially for those of us that already face discrimination and bigotry every day irl, I know it is exhausting. Remember to also care for yourselves through all this.

[single-malt-scotch]

regarding thoughts on secret life mechanics

SO there are a lot more mechanics going on this season than i realized bc not all of it was mentioned. ill list out what i know/heard:

the tasks, of course. you complete it and you get: 10 hearts and/or rare items. if you have enough room for the 10 hearts, you dont get items. its like an overflow. if you dont finish your task nothing happens. if you fail the task you lose 10 hearts. you can role for a harder task which gives more hearts (? 20?)

you have 30 hearts for each life. imo better to phrase it as you have 30 hearts for each phase-- green is 1, yellow is 2, red is 3. you cannot regen.

you can gift one heart only one time per session.

you can enchant anything with whatever enchant and whatever level, no limits (but no helmets as always)

i have not watched every pov and only heard this from martyn's so correct me if i explained this one wrong: you can get mob eggs, which allow you to make a spawner out of them?

thats... every one that i know of and boy thats so much more than i thought. for the last one, i saw mumbo get an egg but i just thought it was a one off spawn and a rare item from the secret keeper.

most of my criticism for the Life series comes from mechanics because its what ultimately makes the season feel good. it directs how ppl play and act.

third life was exactly what it needed to be for a first season- simple.

LL brought in an active threat, and proper desperation (boogeys were killing and made it hard to trust, more lives with the ability to gift meant getting for more in order to stay alive).

While while DL wasnt at the top of my list after 3L and LL its concept was still simple and they didnt add more to complicate what was already a tough concept to handle-- two players health tied to each other.

limlife is where i started to feel a little off with the mechanics and how it made people play. it was just one new thing (like DL) with just the boogey again, otherwise it was a timer controlling life. its cool but that concept was too complicated imo and even from a technical view it was a bit broken/hard to manage. it was a strong force to make people kill but the consequences of dying got a bit too intense, and the behavior become chaotic to where the killing methods were insanely op. it was imo, hard to follow once the numbers got too low and things were just going back and forth of losing and gaining time.

now we are on SL and i know we are only one episode in so im not hating on it- just observing this series of mechanics... the new mechanics are tasks, giving one heart per person, 30 hearts w no regen, and these spawn egg things (armor enchants are not a mechanic exactly just an adjustment). this is sooooo much stuff!! i was really hoping it would just be 30 no regen hearts and maybe one other thing. because i already feel like the gifting one heart this is kind of pointless? one heart? thats like. nothing. i have little knowledge on this spawn egg stuff but i am trying to understand why its a thing, if its a task thing i think its still kind of unnecessary?? idk.

imo this season should have had one of the things: 30 hearts w no regen (w 3 life phases) or just the tasks (with some kind of tie to lives, but not the former mentioned). honestly the task thing as cool as it is, starts to make this all feel more convoluted when it starts to stack up with more and more. i dont feel like we're focused on the system of limited lives as much and its because the way you gain and lose lives becomes more complicated and in many cases the gaining and losing of hearts is so.... quick? you dont seem to stay on one of those phases for very long before you manage to get back up, there isnt really a limit of saying "nope! you cant have more!" like there was for LL when people who had another life were losing them and eventually ppl had no one to ask for more, and boogey's didnt make you gain more either ya know? Limlife let you gain more time but youd die and lose some, but then go right back and get more, with no limit to it. now, you gain a whole ten hearts which seems like way too much? and you can again just do more tasks to get more hearts without anything stopping you.

the point of this series imo is the intensity of having no way or very limited ways to get more lives and in the end, facing the fact you cannot get out of your red life. 3L kept it simple, LL made sure to stop you at some point, and DL just made it a little different but was basically the same as 3L. i think this is kind of my consensus on whats already making me unsure of this season.

[lookingforhappy]

thank you! im glad you found my stuff interesting! i dont want to come off as pushy but I do want to go back over the s1 Five & Viktor scene a bit bc it is just so interesting

I don't think Five is out of his depth at all when he goes to Viktor. at that point he still thinks he has a major lead in the eyeball, and has just successfully reunited with his family and slipped free of the commission once again. this scene comes even before five goes to Meritech, so he doesnt even realise that he'll be denied information on the eye's owner yet or that he'll need someone to pose as his parent to get it.

so Five going to talk to viktor isn't him being backed into a corner, or out of options in any way shape or form. he's handled worse injuries (stitching himself up from a gunshot wound in the next episodes), worse situations, has a game plan (the eye & Meritech) and much stronger allies (diego, luther, allison, even klaus counts at this point) if he wanted to get real help.

he also hasn't actually spoken to any of his other siblings yet about anything. all they know is that he left in 2002 and went straight to "the future" which is "shit by the way"

and that he was there for 45 years, making him 58 years old.

at this point none of them know an apocalypse is even coming, because Five has told them absolutely nothing. Five is the one who's dismissive of the apocalypse and is avoiding those conversations altogether at this point.

Five has every option open to him at this point, he could confide in any of his siblings. Diego is desperate for action/hero work, Luther still believes that theyre superheroes meant to save the world, Five knows exactly what buttons to press (claire) to get allison to help him, and klaus is easily manipulated by money.

so why go to Viktor? why is Viktor his first choice? Viktor has no powers, no knowledge of the apocalypse, no experience of missions, investigations, no training, he's not well connected either nor is he a good motivational speaker.

Five goes to him because he wants connection, comfort, validation, possibly even praise, and he knows viktor is willing to give that to him because he's given it in the past (they were best friends as kids).

conection means vulnerability, which is hard for him because he feels its a weakness/opening for attack. which is also part of why he chose Viktor, and might even be why they were so close as kids. Five trusts not only that Viktor wont use his vulnerability against him, but also that Viktor cant use his vulnerability against him.

its also not just s1 in which he confides in his siblings one on one, it's scattered across all the seasons

in fact, its not always limited to just his siblings either

and in almost every example given Five is the one to approach them, not the other way around. he's also not pushed into a corner in any of these as he's proven time and time again that he will go off on his own and solve shit by himself. he's not forced to confide anything, he's asked, and most of the time he chooses when and where and who to confide in.

i also dont believe that five was physically stuck with luther so much as emotionally drained and possibly passively suicidal, but i guess i can see that as close enough lol

but yes i do think five has issues with his relationships and that his isolation, reginalds abuse and the commission are the reigning factors of this and i absolutely love how you worded it as him struggling to manage relationships because thats exactly what hes struggling with. not in forming those bonds but in the upkeep of them.

again, thank you so much for reading my addition!!

Last one about TUA season 4, for now.

(I talked about this in the tags of one of my RBs before but I wanted to elaborate)

I don't like how they keep trying to make Five a badass.

I find it especially frustrating as doing this constantly, bogs down any form of character development we could've had from Five.

For whatever reason, the writers seem to be allergic to acknowledging Five's biggest character flaw, his arrogance. Five always has to be right. He always has to be capable of everything and never needs any help. Despite the fact that Diego also has a very similar flaw (and is punished for it consistently), Five's seems to go completely untouched.

(A part of me thinks that the reason why they punish Diego so much more is because he comes off as the hot-headed impulsive one. While that's true, it certainly doesn't negate Five's ability to make mistakes or be incompetent)

Instead, they keep trying to invent a new flaw for Five in that; he is obsessed with the apocalypse. In reality, he's not obsessed with the apocalypse. He's obsessed with keeping his family safe. It just so happens that their most immediate threat (in his eyes) tends to be the apocalypse. (I really don't understand what they're trying to get at with this, especially considering the fact that he already has an extremely apparent flaw)

While this isn't an issue I take with season 4 specifically, it has definitely amplified this issue like crazy. Five's arrogance is vaguely addressed by his siblings in season 1, but it never seems to get him in trouble? Or at least he doesn't seem to have learned from it (except for the time-travelling thing from when he was 13, and when he bled out also in season 1)

Season 1 (and 2) handled it the best out of the four. Five never seems to ask for or accept help unless backed into a corner (telling Viktor about the apocalypse, asking Klaus to help him get the prosthetic eye). Or if he is literally incoherent or unconscious (him passing out from blood loss, him being drunk and telling Diego and Luther about what's happening).

And outside of that, Five's arrogance still had brutal consequences within this season (him not noticing Viktor's declining mental state because he was so sure about the apocalypse (but this was partially because this man tunnel-visions like crazy)).

(there are probably more instances of this with s1 & 2, i just can't think of them off the top of my head so tag them if you'd like)

Season 4 is extra mean with this. From the 'Five getting to work for the CIA at 19' to 'Five randomly figuring out what's causing the end of the world with a bunch of other Five's' while he was off moping.

And when he does make mistakes, it's not because he's actually not capable of everything and anything.

Noooo, Ben really really sneakily stole the marigold and spiked the sake. Five couldn't have possibly noticed. (and none of the other siblings for that matter)

Noooo, it's because Luther is actually super smart in figuring out that Five's boss is a Keeper (no shade to Luther btw, I like him. They just don't treat this moment as Five being a complete dumbass).

Oh no! Five (and Lila) can't figure out a way back from the metro! Never mind, another Five managed it.

Five being a homewrecker? That's him being an asshole, not incompetent so it doesn't count (lighthearted).

Five's arrogance one of his defining flaws, yet it's not really challenged. The fact that he gets away with a lot of bullshit is simply because he can! When he doesn't face failure, he doesn't find growth. He doesn't learn to stop being self-destructive just because he thinks he can do anything. He doesn't learn to reach out.

This stunt in growth is obviously not only present in Five but also everyone else. I just find his to be particularly grating since he's my favorite.

Feel free to add your thoughts to this, not just about Five's fucked up character growth but everyone else's too!

(I'll make long a ass post/video essay going into detail about all of them one of these days)

I'd love to read them :)

[anicequietplace]

.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[beatcroc]

gimme 17, 18, 19 for whoever(s) you wanna 👀

>Do they have a comfort food? Who makes it best? this is an unfortunate one bc i myself don't quite get the concept of comfort food so its hard to like. think abt/project that forward to other contexts. also the majority of them are like gods or otherwise not biological so they dont eat anyway dsjhfdjg ummm i think spurlocke is probably the only one who would, it'd have to be someone back from his homeworld but i couldn't tell you anything more specific than that. feel like the food situation in nk's domain is probably kind of shite overall on account of the whole 'being a tourist trap you're not supposed to live in for extended periods of time' thing, and also the no sun+life in stasis so nothing can grow there natively thing. its kind of just a whole mess. im getting off topic

amaranth just gets to have really good food all the time bc shes royalty so theres like dedicated royal chefs there or whatever. idk. shes adaptable but i'm sure she misses it if she stays Out And About for awhile, like many things about pangea.

ezekiel hasn't really. associated themself with anyone in that way since their og cohorts died off but they're probably like my only oc who can cook well and i tell you hwat they make a mean soup. bet that would Be someone's comfort food, if anyone knew about it.

>How do they cheer up a friend when they're down? not many of my guys are dedicated as Friends with the others and lot of the real answers here are circumstantial and depend on who's sad and for what reason, but for misc like. gestures of goodwill i guess??

sarah is the type to benevolently annoy you to help distract you from whatever, but also i'd like to believe she has some kind of weird metaphysical knowledge that she's a Cool Animal that has a lot of like, nostalgic charisma so she uses that too, by which i mean "hey kid you wanna ride around on a t-rex? yeah of course you fuckin do lets go"

the prince/lucille is pretty aloof, but i think he’d offer the classic walk n talk. it’s more or less what he does for stress relief alone and he doesn’t mind having someone else with him. i think he also likes stars more than most of my guys, and given the whole 'lack of sun' thing for nk's domain there are always plenty of them out. if you don't want to talk about what’s troubling you can talk about that.

amaranth is generally…not…kind enough to care about ppl like that but i bet she knows a lot of cool and/or weird spots in space to show someone. maybe you can go commit low-stakes crimes together or something [she will not trust u with something actually risky if ur emotionally out of it]. .. ....she does also still like to fuck so like. if that would help. well.

wilddog's options are extremely limited but i think it usually knows the favorite messenger of a given guy so if it suspects someone's Troubled it'll send that specific messenger to 'em.

eris would b like. touches you on the head while rasping heavily. it doesnt help at all but he doesnt really know how to do anything else. those who Are friends with him can probably recognize it as a friendly gesture at least even if it still doesn't really help.

ezekiel again doesnt really associate with anyone in a friends type way so they're definitely not going to be GOOD at anything but they're also not like. heartless. THEORETICALLY i could see them just being the type to like. be Around. see if you need anything. invite a guy in if it's someone they actually trust--their home may be lonely, but it's also warm and peaceful.

... i'm actually kind of shocked i can't think of anything specific for spurlocke since he's supposed to be like, THE friend & homie guy. maybe since he's the main one who's actively Social he doesn't do as well with one-on-one sadness? i suppose most of his actions would be more along the lines of helping to Prevent you from getting down rather than picking you up once you're already there.

>What's a guilty pleasure of theirs?

i drew these a few days ago. in light of recent events. uhhhh nk has a nebulously canon pet rabbit that hes a fucking dweeb about. ...i don't know if i have any that are truly 'guilty' so much as just 'theyd be embarrassed about it'

[kiratheperson]

I posted 24,119 times in 2022

That's 21,589 more posts than 2021!

8 posts created (0%)

24,111 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bobo-the-part-time-clown

@elytrians

@edelgard-enjoyer

@fardf150

@ziseviolet

I tagged 2,185 of my posts in 2022

#goncharov - 549 posts

#unreality - 324 posts

#aesthetic - 250 posts

#save - 243 posts

#overgrown aesthetic - 43 posts

#dracula - 41 posts

#dracula daily - 38 posts

#<- prev tags - 18 posts

#this is beautiful - 16 posts

#me - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#i could have gotten ‘total loser of a guy who will never amount to anything’ as a result and it would have been less devastating then this

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

changed my theme >:)

0 notes - Posted May 10, 2022

#4

I think u may be stuck on the dashboard of 4 days ago but u should know that martin scorsese himself reacted to goncharov 😳

Yes I do know!!!! It’s amazing this is peak goncharov

The reason Im reblogging posts from 4 days ago is cuz I hit the post limit in like 4 hours on the first day of goncharov and then I filled up my queue with at least 400 goncharov posts. In addition to the normal posts. So now I have 500 posts in my queue. I regret nothing.

2 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

#3

omg that’s adorable I love it

how has your day been btw?

2 notes - Posted October 26, 2022

#2

hey feel free to answer this privately or just . ignore it + I'm not sure how to phrase this well but ... are u Asian ? (LMAO) I don't see a lot of queer Asian ppl in my specific tumblr circle so I'm always happy and surprised when I see other asian ppl on here . sorry if this is a weird question ✋🥲

Yeah I'm Chinese!!! Dw, I'm cool with this kinda question, you know since it's in good faith and all. And I get it cuz it's always awesome to see other queer Asians :D

2 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hello, I'm once again asking you about your OCs because I'm curious! I hope that's okay? Who are Iphi and Jack? I love the first one's name. And if I remember right Jack is aro? That's neat, I haven't really seen a lot of aro characters before! /pos

Thank you for the ask!!! Sorry this is pretty late btw, I haven’t had time to answer it lol

(That’s Iphi on the left, Jack on the right. First is a picrew, second isn’t my art but like. I haven’t drawn Jack yet so that’s kinda their ref for now)

But it is rant time!! Imma start with Iphi! Because I kinda need to explain her to give context for Jack’s lore. 

So Iphi is the god of sacrifice in this little fantasy world I made, Kunyang! She’s a pretty old god, a couple of thousand years old, but she’s still the second youngest one lol.

In Kunyang, gods are born when they sprout from the seeds of the god tree. The god tree is in the divine realm, which is a different realm entirely from the physical realm, but very rarely, a god seed can arrive in the physical realm.

Anyways, this seed fell into the hands of a very magically powerful person. They had magic potential that could honestly rival a god- and yeah, they believed they were destined for great things because of it. So, they were determined to be the person who caused the god seed to sprout.

So in Kunyang, there was once this library called the Archives, run by the god of knowledge himself, Ephius. This person went to Ephius, and they were told that the seed was for the god of sacrifice. Ephius told the person that to sprout a god seed, they’d need sacrifices from thousands of people. This person wanted to do it, all by themself.

And so, they sacrificed everything. Family, friends, fortune, and fame. All gone, in the hopes of making a legacy. The seed did not sprout, because it wasn’t enough. So this person decided that they would need to make a very big sacrifice, one big enough to make the seed sprout.

They decided to banish the Archives from the physical realm into the divine realm, sacrificing humanity’s access to the library of all knowledge. And that was indeed a big enough sacrifice to give birth to a new god!

And that’s how Iphi was created. But the thing is- that’s really not how you’re supposed to create a god. So she was kind of corrupted from birth. This corruption prevented her from having a lot of character traits that one might consider important to being human.

Iphi does not feel happiness, or satisfaction. No sorrow or regret. Nothing of that sort. But she is working towards a goal: and that is creating a legacy. Having an effect on the world. (Her only contributor to her creation imprinted heavily on her.)

And because of that, she is very active in all manners of sacrifice. Every day, she’s constantly getting people to make sacrifices to her, amassing followers in many different lands. This also increases her powers heavily.

The way her powers work, they’re kinda like payment based. She gets someone to sacrifice something for her, and she can create something else of equal value to that something. (The more important that something was to the person who sacrificed it, the more she can create and do.) Like, she could make a giant wall of fire, or acid rain, or bury a country in gold if she had enough magic. Which she absolutely does. But she mostly saves the magic potential she receives for later.

And also, Iphi doesn’t truly care about anything other than making a mark on the world. She doesn’t mind if people die or suffer because her sacrifices took something too important- if anything, she wants to do that, because it’s quite a way of making your mark on the world.

Oh, and I gotta add- she can’t do this all without a little help! And that’s where Jack comes in.

They’re also a couple thousand years old, but quite younger than Iphi. So they used to be a court jester. Mortal and everything. They should have had a life of a normal length, be just another person in the world, but then they fell in love with Iphi.

And yeah they’re aromantic! It’s not romantic love, it’s alterous love. But yeah they felt a deep emotional attraction, and they wanted to be in a relationship (not a romantic or platonic one though). Anyways, Iphi doesn’t feel the same way. She doesn’t love Jack. But she thought it was convenient to have someone in love with her, and to keep them around, so she offered Jack a sacrifice.

She’d give them eternity, and they would be her servant.

Jack honestly didn’t want to do that at first, but then they had a near-death experience, and agreed to her terms.

So Iphi took their physical body, and also their independence.

Because it would be inconvenient if her servant got bored or wanted to take back the sacrifice. So Jack quite literally cannot think unless she wills it. They’re barely conscious until Iphi needs them, and only then can they think again.

Jack isn’t even aware this happens. To them, it feels like they just woke up, or they just simply forgot what happened during that time

Iphi also messed with Jack’s mind a bit, to amplify their devotion. And yeah, Jack is completely, utterly devoted to her. They would die for her, they’d be tortured for her, they would kill for her too. Nothing is off the table. They’d do anything she says. And they truly love her.

Jack mostly stays in the divine realm, usually, until Iphi sends them to the physical realm to do something for her. That something is usually extorting people to get more sacrifices. Jack pretty much curses people, and then offers to remove that curse in exchange for a sacrifice. (That’s how Janessa got cursed, actually [have I talked about her?] but Jack forgot they cursed her lmao.)

Anywayssss there is some more lore, but this is pretty fucking long already lmao so Imma just end this here. Unless you’d like to hear more!!

3 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[oops-all-knuxadow]

I posted 432 times in 2022

That's 302 more posts than 2021!

69 posts created (16%)

363 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mushtoons

@arrows-asks

@if-i-say-goodbye

@cozyqueerchaos

@chaos-matrimony

I tagged 77 of my posts in 2022

#knuxadow - 32 posts

#shadow the hedgehog - 19 posts

#knuckles the echidna - 17 posts

#shadknux - 13 posts

#🌹 asks - 10 posts

#mun speaks - 10 posts

#shaduckles - 10 posts

#knuxadow week 2021 - 7 posts

#ask - 6 posts

#knuxadow: bandages - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#surprise!!! i'm still chugging away at my half of the trade i was supposed to give you ages ago! djsndksndjs im so sorry

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Now that Shadow and Knuckles are dating, it's kind of imperative that the hedgehog learns to get along better with his boyfriend's friends. Here's how I think he could do it:

Tails is easy. He's extremely smart and they both have an appreciation for automechanics - Shadow with his bike and Tails with his plane. They can also trade information; if Shadow doesn't understand something about technology, Tails will help him in exchange for knowledge about medicine or his chaos powers. Brain Buddies!

Contrary to popular belief, I think he and Sonic are friends, to the extent that sworn rivals can be, at least. There's clearly a respect of skill present, and Sonic is no pushover. He's saved the world so many times by being a surprisingly brilliant strategist and fighter. Shadow knows that he can't come out on top in a race, but it doesn't matter. They challenge each other, push each other to raise the bar, to be better. They're friendly in such a way that they inspire one another to surpass their perceived limitations.

Amy would be easy to bond with, too, I think. Shadow could have a great respect for her strength, being able to wield that giant hammer like it's nothing. I don't know that Amy could necessarily like or admire any part of Shadow besides the fact that he looks a little like Sonic, but she's friendly and adaptive, so it's a bond of mutual respect above anything else.

The Chaotix are a team of skilled detectives (plus Charmy), so Shadow would appreciate their investigative prowess. He'd most likely be friendliest with Espio because of their similar dispositions, and he would mention what a great recruit he'd make on stealthier GUN missions.

Is Knuckles friends with the Babylon Rogues??? If he isn't, oops. If he is -

Wave kinda acts like Rogue, and Shadow lives with her, so he's got this in the bag. Give her a passing compliment, hand her some jewelery or pretend like he's got something precious to steal that she can make off with, and call it a day.

Storm kinda acts like Knuckles, but...dumber. Compliment his muscles, get in some sort of arm-wrestling match, call it a day.

Jet is fucking Annoying. I have no doubt Shadow would have zero patience for this smarmy bird. At BEST, they could bond over extreme gear (nice board. thanks, nice skates.) but that's it, bro. This blog is part of the Jet Sucks Gang.

That's all I've got thus far. If you'd like to see how Shadow could possibly befriend anybody else lemme know.

76 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

#4

I've only seen the first season of Sonic Boom, and Shadow only appeared in the very last episode of that season, with some vague and limited knowledge in between, so if he's ooc I'm sorry!

This is my part of a trade with @louie-loses-it which was super fun!! I hope we can collab again! Please consider visiting his blog and checking out some of their absolutely fantastic art!

Shadow strolled quietly along the beach, ever-present scowl traded in for something softer, for once. He had no plans, no schemes running, and no carefully crafted manipulation fed to him through Eggman to go and carry out at the moment, so his afternoon was free.

His shoes made indentations in the sand as he walked along. He briefly considered taking them off so he could enjoy it barefoot, but dismissed it out of concern that the idiot doctor could come by and annoy him again. He seemed to hatch a new plan against the village once a week. It was nearly episodic at this point, so the hedgehog begrudgingly remained on guard for the sound of machinery on the horizon. For now, he could relax, his ears catching only the sounds of the ocean lapping against the shore and two pairs of footsteps.

Shadow stopped walking. One pair of footsteps.

Fists clenched, the striped hedgehog whirled around and bared his teeth, coming face to chest with a tall, red echidna.

He squinted, then lifted his gaze upward until it landed on a pair of excited, violet eyes.

"Heya, Shadow!" Knuckles beamed. "I'm glad I found you! I -"

"Where are your friends?" Shadow demanded. "Waiting out of sight to ambush me? You all should know by now that I'm much too fast for you to gang up on so easily."

"Huh? No, I'm all alone!" Knuckles replied. "Or - no, I'm not. You're here, so I'm actually not alone!"

"Quit fooling around!"

"How dare you!? I only fool around when I have my jester hat on! And it's in the wash right now!"

Shadow grit his teeth. There was no way he was sent out here to be any sort of distraction, or to do reconnaissance; this buffoon was all muscle and no brain.

"Then tell me," he bit out, rapidly losing patience, "why you're here. Before I beat it out of you."

Although, admittedly, that would be hard to do. He'd seen the kind of force Knuckles put behind a punch, and if he wasn't careful, being on a receiving end of something like that would put him out of commission for a few days. Shadow could not afford to be downed like that. He needed to play it smart if this turned into a fight.

See the full post

93 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

#3

Shadow liked Knuckles' honesty. If he didn't understand something, he was quick to make that known, and the hedgehog was happy to explain it to him. If he wanted or needed something, he vocalized it, and the hybrid would do his best to get it for him.

If he liked something, or someone, well.

Hearing Knuckles confess his romantic interest in the hybrid right after an intense battle with Eggman wasn't something he was expecting, but Shadow was grateful all the same. Since they've been together, he was making an effort to return that same level of honesty the echidna had been giving him.

"I like it when you wear clothes," Knuckles commented one afternoon, gesturing to the bomber jacket his boyfriend had thrown on before coming to visit him. "You have good taste."

The hedgehog thanked him, taking a seat next to Knuckles on the Master Emerald's shrine. Together they watched the slow-approaching sunset, content in each other's company.

"I like when you do that, too," Knuckles muttered some time later. A black ear turned in his direction before red eyes followed, curious.

"Do what?"

"Relax." Violet eyes met his gaze, the sincerity almost too much to bear. "The stiffness leaves your shoulders, and you look happier. I like seeing you calm."

Shadow was glad the low light made it hard to tell if he was blushing, because he could feel the heat in his face.

He cleared his throat. "You...you make me feel calm, so in a way, you're praising yourself."

"Sure, if you wanna see it that way."

They lapsed into silence again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Rather, it was anticipatory, though the hedgehog couldn't for the life of him figure out what for.

There was also the belated realization that Knuckles hadn't been watching the sunset almost the entire time they sat together. As the last rays started vanishing behind the horizon, the shorter male turned to face his companion again.

"What is it?" Shadow pried, gently. Knuckles didn't shy away, instead giving words to his desires, displaying vulnerability in a way his partner would never fully know.

"I really want to kiss you."

See the full post

97 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

#2

While I continue writing out my hella long angsty fic, have some headcanons!

Knuckles is so so so tactile. Knowing that Shadow is virtually invincible means he doesn't have to be afraid of hurting him, so it's hugs and hand holding and cuddles galore.

Shadow's thoughts run along the same vein. Knuckles is incredibly strong, so the hedgehog can be a little rougher with him when their make-outs get passionate. And if he accidentally pokes his boyfriend with his quills, well...stop trying to hug him from behind. He's not made to be the little spoon.

Knuckles wants Shadow to be little spoon so badly. Getting pricked a hundred times a night while trying to sleep is a pretty big deterrent, though.

They LOVE to play Punch Buggy!!! It's funny and they never keep track of who actually wins, it's just an excuse to work their way up to a friendly spar!

Knuckles has gotten good at translating Shadow's varying "hmms" and grunts, which the rest of the crew finds both cute and weird. One little noise and the echidna knows whether or not he's upset, amused, needs space, or hungry.

Shadow's love language is acts of service. He prefers to show you that he cares rather than simply putting it to words. On the other hand, he loves to receive words of affirmation.

Knuckles' love language is quality time. He lives alone on Angel Island, and while he's not fond of trespassers, it does feel extremely isolating at times. He loves to receive touch.

Knuckles kissed Shadow first. He watched him punch his way through steel in order to take out a giant robot, and made out with him amongst the rubble while they were both high off adrenaline. Shadow considers it one of the most romantic things they've ever done.

Shadow wants kids!!! Let him be a family man!! Knuckles isn't sure he'd be a good dad, but Shadow would assure him he'd be great.

Knuckles has different customs regarding romance compared to the rest of modern Mobius. Sharing his culture with Shadow is considered an extreme act of devotion, and implies intent to stay with him for the rest of their lives.

"Shadow, if you die before I do, would you permit me to bury you on Angel Island, near the shrine?"

Bruh basically fucking proposed with that one djsbcosndksbfjs

Knuckles l o v e s making Shadow laugh. He's very attracted to the sound of his voice. Especially when they fuck

Shadow likes matching chest fur with his boyfriend. This one's a little sillier but I like the idea of him showing up with his fluff cut into a little sideways crescent moon like Knuckles'.

See the full post

113 notes - Posted March 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Thinking about an Actor au besties!

Team Dark still play government agents, but off-camera they're all kind, light-hearted people and Omega is ridiculously funny. His delivery is very dry and monotone on account of being a robot, but man his timing is impeccable. He will make an off-hand comment that sends half his costars into tears and delay the shoot by half an hour.

Sonic is this confident hero on camera but he's almost painfully shy off-camera unless he's friends with you. This makes fan meet-ups hard, cause he tends to get overwhelmed and run off.

Tails is still his adopted brother on and off screen. He acts like a little shit but in a fun way, not in a "please control your feral kid" way.

EGGMAN. my god. Eggman is an angel when he's not playing a diabolical villain. He's Shadow's uncle and they're very close. Think of Mr. Tinker - that's what he's like when he's not acting. Super kind, gives EXCELLENT hugs, doesn't know what method acting is, he just turns it On and Off. He doesn't have a mean bone in his rotund little body.

Knuckles is a volunteer firefighter when he isn't on camera! He and Shadow met when the studio caught ablaze due to a faulty pyrotechnics stunt and they fell in love when he carried Shadow out of the building. Their chemistry was so strong the studio asked Knuckles to play a background character in a film. He did so well they kept him on and gave him bigger and bigger roles.

The meds are kicking in so I gotta take a break but please ask me for headcanons or whatever if you like the idea

122 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[mr-walkingrainbow]

imma slide in your asks, i would like limited mobility for abimel :)

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Wanna watch something?”

“No.”

“A board game?”

“WHO in their right mind VOLUNTARILY plays board games?!”

Abigael sighed, although annoying, her girlfriend had a point.

However, their wasn’t much she could offer currently to to Mels situation.

To be frank, somehow a trip to the doctor to get Maggie’s flu shot ended up with Mel having a broken ankle.

Apparently, when confronted with needles, shorty spice either feinted like a sack of potatoes, or transformed into a higher being of savagery and desperation.

Macy had informed her that this time it had been both.

She wasn’t even going to ask how that was physically possible.

Unfortunately, Mel now was on strict bed rest, and her normal ADHD tunnel vision girlfriend, was ridden to a grumpy miserable couch potato.

“Come on,” Abby cajoled in her British accent, “I bet theirs something we can do to make you feel better?”

Mel got a sneaky look in her eyes, hand snaking up Abbys head and giving a quick teasing tug to her locks.

Bloody hell.

Abigael bit her lip, hand grasping Mels remaining one violently. Ignoring the near desperate urge to moan and fall into her girlfriends wonderful arms, she took a long shuddering breath.

“N-no Melanie. N-not that. You can’t do anything involving much movement besides go to the loo.”

Mels smile immediately turned to a scowl once again, which gave Abby the time to regroup. Hand fluttering upwards to touch the area she had tugged.

Damn Melanie and her knowledge of her weakest points. It made scenarios like this exceptionally hard.

“Besides that, what else can you think of that would lift your spirits?”

“I don’t know!” The Latina crankily exclaimed, “You tell me! Your my girlfriend you should know these things!”

Abby raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “Now I will excuse that comment because your grumpy and your in pain. But if your going to be a grump about it, I will quickly just as leave.”

Mel relaxed slightly, frowing, “Sorry Cariño, I’m just so miserable!”

“I understand the feeling love,” she smiled soothingly, “But we’ll figure something out!”

She took a scrutinizing eye to the witch, studying her every move. Mel was obviously more clingy then usual, never letting go of Abigaels hand once while she sat perched on the edge of the couch.

It gave her an idea.

“I know how to turn that frown upside down!”

The laters eyebrows furrowed, “How?”

“AGQS!”

“Scuzi?”

Abby laughed slightly at her girlfriends shortened version of ‘excuse me’,

“AGQS, aka A good quality snuggle! Theirs nothing like it! A real mood changer.”

Mel seemed to ponder this, “Well Im not saying no?”

“Snuggles it is!”

She then proceeded to wedge herself in the space between Mel and the couch, being extra careful not to jostle the injured ankle in the process.

“Their!” She cooed softly, her head resting on the laters shoulder, “Do you feel a bit better now?”

Mel sighed contently, “Ai! Mi querida, you always know how to make me feel better.”

“Good! Now, we can find some Halloween movies on the box because Halloween movies are superior to anything.”

The Latina smiled, soon breaking into a frown and wailing.

“B-but were out of popcornnnnn!”

Deary me, Abigael might have misjudged how emotional Mel currently was.

“Don’t worry Atlantis, I’ll get you some popcorn.” She assured.

The fat tears soon rolled down the lesbians face, something Abby had assumed would happen eventually. Whenever her girlfriend was sick or hurt, her emotions would go all over the place and all rational thinking was out the door. And that would lead to tears of hysteria.

Something Abby was still struggling to figure out.

“What is it?” She questioned worriedly, “What’s wrong? Does your ankle hurt? Do you need more painkillers? Are you hungry? What’s wrong Melanie?!”

“I-I don’t w-want you to Le-eave!” Mel cried, arms flailing uselessly.

“Hey, hey! It’s ok,” Abigael placated, it was both endearing and grating how unpredictable Mel became when hurt, “I won’t leave ok? I’ll stay right here.”

The Latina looked at her with glassy eyes, “B-but who will get the popcorn?”

GRAGGH! Abby fought the urge to scream, instead taking a deep breath and returning the gaze with love and care.

“I’ll ring up Jordy. He’d gladly do anything for you Mel.”

“You too!” Her girlfriend exclaimed.

“Huh?”

The witch looked at her sadly, “He’d do it for you too!”

“That’s lovely of you to say,” Abby grinned fondly, “But Jordy doesn’t hold me to that standard”.

To her chagrin, the laters eyes filled up with even more tears, prompt bursting into loud sobs.

“Oh god! Mel what is it?”

She sat up in a panic, checking Mels ankle to see if it had shifted any way. To her knowledge everything looked the same.

She looked back at her girlfriend desperately, “Mel I don’t know why your so upset? Please tell me?”

“B-because y-you don’t t-think your good en-nough for f-friendship!” Mel choked out between sobs.

“What?! Why would you think that?”

“Because y-you don’t think j-jordys your friend!”

“Ugh! Fine! Bloody hell Mel, me and Jordy are the bestest besties in all the besties in the world? Satisfied?!”

Her girlfriend flashed her a teary smile, “Very.”

With another groan and something muttered under her breath, Abigael rang up her ‘Bestie’ saying it was a popcorn emergency and if Jordan didn’t get their in the next five minutes, he was gonna have two angry witch’s at his door.

“Hey, Abby?” Jordan’s voice crackled through the phone.

She paused, unsure of wether to answer.

“I just wanted to say it’s good to hear from you.” He stated, “We should meet up sometime, and try and get through an actual convo without any of us getting into some Magical based trouble.”

“I’d like that.” The hybrid answered softly. Immediately shutting off her phone afterwards.

It was hard for her to let her walls down, to allow people inside. To even consider the possibility that someone cared for her.

But aside from Melanie, Jordy had been that one other person who’d managed to evade all her carefully laid traps and walls.

So she guess, in this case, she at least owed him a friendly conversation.

Her attention turned back to her already wailing girlfriend, who was literally clawing at her clothes to get her back on the couch with her.

“Alright already, geez,” she cursed silently, “Watch the clothes Melanie. You know I’d be livid if you ripped anything.”

The clawing stopped, but the Latina got a cheesy smile on her face.

“Nooo you won’t!”

Abby blushed, eyebrows crinkling, “Whatever do you mean?”

“You loooove me,” the lesbian cheered, “You loooove me and caaaare for me and wanna kiiiiss me and-“

-“God your childish when your in pain!”

Mel pouted slightly, sticking her lower lip out.

Bloody hell.

Mel knows she can’t say no to her puppy dog eyes.

Abigael rolled her eyes fondly, head coming to a rest back on Mels chest.

“Oh all right. I love you. But if you tell anyone I’ll roast your head on a spit. I have a reputation to uphold.”

The witch grinned like a maniac, “Your secrets safe with me.”

[theyxlived]

I Took The Blue Pill Not The Red One

Continued from [ x ]

The trick to infiltrating an enemy compound is to look and act like you belong there. The problem is a lot of people go too far one way or the other. Either they act too comfortable to the point of exposure or they’re too on their toes causing the same. So he’s learned the dance. Get in without anyone seeing you. Not terribly hard given his skill set. Once inside already be acclimated. Know where you’re going before hand. Have no less than four exit routes already memorized. And the rest is simply knowing your audience.

Weirdly that last one works for comedians too.

       Focus, Zach. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Compress for two. One. Two. Three. Four. Compress for two.

He doesn’t know the target. Not personally anyway. He knows the generalizations. Her age. Her name. Her height. Where hospital papers said she was born. Who her parents were. Ran a coffee shop. Paid taxes, quite punctually too. She was painfully normal. Well outside the fact she stopped a semi-truck dead in its tracks without so much as touching it. That wasn’t normal. Well not in the human sense of the word anyway.

One. Two. Three. Four. Compress for two. One. Two. Three. Four. Compress for two.

A count of fingers against thumbs, two more fist compressions as he makes a turn in the corridor. Camera feeds paused against their will as he goes by. A quick assault on a door’s locking mechanism and he’s in. Out of sight now of security. They don’t put cameras in areas like these. Too much risk if it got leaked. Which makes his job all the more easy. His job that gets far more serious the moment the door clicks shut.

Snap

A finger and thumb make the sound. A sound that echos much louder than it should given the sound proofed walls. The three personel in the room caught in the time differencial he’s created. Zach moving on through the room to the opposite door unhindered. A snag of a key card, because work smarter not harder. And he’s gone again.

Snap

The three people begin again. None the wiser he was ever there. Though one will mention later to his wife how he could have sworn he heard the door open and close today but no one was there.

Down the stairs. It’s less tidy. Less inviting the deeper he goes. This is where they keep their living secrets. Where more people than he likes to think about have probably been brought and never left. At least not breathing. A thought that reminds im of his favorite horror movie when he leaves the stairs behind for dimly lit hallway. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Compress for two. One. Two. Three. Four. Compress for two.

Freddy Kreuger eat your heart out.

Which no less ironically is about where shit tries to go wrong. A black suit coming out of a door way he’d had no knowledge of. Thankfully when you can suspend time like he can, it’s not too hard to get the jump on someone. Knock them out before they can even process you’re not on their team. And drag them back through the doorway they’d come from. Which...

Hello. Thank you for your service, Heinrich.

The folder the man has dropped is picked up. Zach’s target’s name is on it and he rifles through it as he makes his way towards the cell. The suits keycard used to unlock the door, that conveniently slides open all on its own. Zach stepping in while still scanning the file. Everything was going to plan. Right up until...

I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your friends. No, I did not have a stupid rock cocoon. No, I don’t know why I am like this. No, I am not an alien. I have been like this since I was seventeen.

He hears her but right now nothing she’s talking about is of interest or use. He needs to see what Hydra has worked up on her. Verify she was who his surperiors say she is.

I’m not a threat. I never have been. I pay my taxes. I work in a coffee shop. I make baked goods. I have a dog! I just want to go home. There was no ulterior motive for me stopping the truck. I was trying to save the crossing van.

Not a threat. He’s heard that song and dance before. Felt the same about himself once too. But well fight enough, push your limits enough and...maybe you start to see why humans look at inhumans the way they do. Able to do things that maybe humankind was never meant to. But right now isn't the time to have a mid life rethink. RIght now he needs...

Why am I being treated like I’m some volatile ticking bomb? I don’t want these so-called ‘gifts’ and I didn’t ask for them! I just want to be normal again. You don’t care. I’m an abomination. You’re not even listening to me.

        “First, I’m not one of them. I’m with SHIELD not Hydra.”

The file is shut, one hand rummaging around for a lighter from his pocket. One he flicks to life and sets to the paper work. Which in turn is allowed to drop to the floor once its caught flame to his satisfaction.

         “Second...push anyone far enough they’re a threat. Third, it’s called multi-tasking. And fourth...”

He moves again. Steps up beside her hands placed on either side of the first of her restraints.

        “Don’t move. These cuffs are gonna get a little hot.”

Snap.

The air around the shackles of her right hand stills completely. Before it rapidly begins to rise in temperature. The metal cuffs rattling with the strain of being forcefully aged. By the time he snaps again and moves to repeat the same on the other shackle the first is so brittle and rusted, blowing on it would see it falling away to the floor like shattered glass.

[queenbirbs]

the way home | Ch. 3 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 3,417

Warnings: language, violence, mention of blood

Read from the beginning or continue on Read on AO3 

Tag list: @writinghereandthere ------

Whatever Robert says or does against Rhodes seems to work.

For the next week, as they hop from island to island, he gives Elena a wide berth. It doesn’t stop the death glares he gives her on the regular, but she’ll take those over him dropping a sack over her head and kidnapping her, as her nightmares depict. 

He can’t ruin today, though. The next outpost is St. Sylvain -- finally, a place where Elena has contacts of her own. Well, Charlie’s, she considers, which brings that familiar rush of heartache. She misses her best friend; misses her snarky, carefree attitude; misses her crude jokes and compassionate heart. Though Robert tries with his sarcastic tongue, he can never measure up to Charlie’s quick wit. 

As soon as the ship docks, Elena is off, flapping a hand at Robert’s reminder to only ask for information from those she trusts. Down the gangplank and across the port, she makes her way into the open-air market and searches along the rows of brightly-colored stalls. As if no time has passed, Bronte leans out from her own stall and waves at her as she approaches. 

“Ah, the fiercest pirate in all the seven seas!” she crows, her wrinkles creasing as she grins. “You’re Charlotte’s friend, aren’t ya? She’s been looking all over for ya.” 

“She has?” Elena asks, tightly clenching the leather strap across her chest.  

“O’course. She was here…” she trails off, tapping a finger against her stall as if counting up the days in her head. “...oh, sometime before the big storm. Was makin’ her rounds of the place, askin’ if ye’d been around.” 

“Did she say where she was headed?”

“Afraid not.” Settling her weight across the table, she opens her mouth, then pauses to squint at something along the market. Elena glances over her shoulder, but spots nothing of interest among the crowded stalls. “But here -- let me give ye something.” 

Bronte bends down and heaves up a basket of what looks like knitting supplies, clicking her tongue as she digs through it. Sweeping her hair to one shoulder, Elena keeps watch of the market until the older woman hums a noise of victory. She pulls out a makeshift cross, bound with red thread. “‘Tis made from the twigs of a Rowan tree. Keep it on yer person. It’ll offer ye protection from evil spirits on yer journey.” 

Given her recent history, Elena’s made a point to avoid picking up any old object. But she doesn’t want to seem rude, and who is she to argue against something that will bring protection? Taking the charm, she tucks it into the pocket of her coat.

“Thank you -- for the protection, and for speaking with me.” 

Bronte smiles at her once more. “If I see young Charlotte, I’ll be sure to send her yer way.”

------

The rest of the day is a wash. 

Her stop by the St. Sylvain Inn to speak with Mary takes the better part of an hour. Most of that time, however, is taken up by helping Mary toss out an unruly guest. What little chance at conversation they manage to have, Elena finds that her knowledge about Charlie’s whereabouts is limited. 

“She asked if I’d seen you, actually.” Mary’s face brightens at the memory, before she bites at her lip and frowns. “But this was months back. Certainly well before the hurricane.”

At the blacksmith’s, Elena wanders around the shop as the man there speaks with a customer. They hem and haw over the fine details of a new gate, going back and forth about prices. She bides her time by looking at a row of gleaming blades. One of the daggers catches her eye for the level of details carved along the hilt; it reminds her of the pistol Charlie gave her, all those years ago. The customer eventually leaves, having refused such a high cost for ‘such subpar craftsmanship.’

“What can I do for ye, ma’am?” the blacksmith calls out to her, wiping away the sweat on his face. “Interested in anything?”

Elena leaves the wares and crosses the room to be heard above the roar of the forge. “No, sorry. I was wondering if Tripp was working today?”

The blacksmith turns back to his project, tapping at a piece of glowing metal with his hammer. “He don’t work here no more.”

“Oh. Do you know where he works now, then?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No.”

“Do you know where I can--”

He slams the hammer down and a burst of hot sparks flares up into her face. The sword is in her hand and at his throat before she realizes it -- and before the man has the attempt to lift the hammer in defense. 

“Listen, alright.” He licks his lips and eyes the sword’s gleaming edge. “He left about three months ago. Said that he was going to try and head back home.” 

“Where’s that?” she snaps, though she eases the sword back a few inches to give him the illusion of space. 

“I don’t-- maybe, maybe St. Fisher, or England. I dunno, I never asked. All I know is that he went off, and I haven’t seen ‘im since.” 

Elena flicks her sword away and slides it back into its scabbard, suppressing her smirk at the man’s audible breath of relief. Brushing past another woman on her way out, she starts her trek back to the market to try any other of Charlie’s contacts. She’s nearly reached the main drag when there’s a voice from behind her. 

“Is yer name Elena Montgomery?” 

Elena spins around to face the stranger. It’s the woman from the shop, her auburn hair matted to her neck from the heat -- and, presumably, from chasing Elena down. Her accent is similar to Kendrick’s, her voice low and rich. 

“It is. And you are…?”

“Oh, sorry -- I’m Fran.” She shifts the satchel she carries from one shoulder to the other, trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, too, for chasing after you like that. I saw you at the inn, talking with Mary. Are you looking for Edward Mortemer?” 

“I am.”  

“I just met a lad who talked about doing business with him.” 

“When?”

“Two hours ago or so, I think. I was out near the market and we struck up a--”

“No, when did he see Edward?” Elena clarifies.

“Oh.” Fran’s nose scrunches up as she tries to recall. “I think he mentioned it was o’er the summer? I’m not for certain. I can take you to him -- if he’s still at his stall.”

It’s too good to be true. After weeks of searching, a lead like this doesn’t just fall into her lap. She would be a fool to go with some random woman, despite how cute she is. But she can’t turn her back on an opportunity like this. 

“Yes, please,” she all but begs. 

Fran guides her through the streets, clearly a local in her knowledge on how to avoid the congested areas. She isn’t much for talking, which Elena appreciates, as she’s too caught up in her own thoughts. Even if this man saw Edward over the summer, does that mean it was here, or somewhere across the globe? If it was over in Portugal or the Philippines, then what the hell is she supposed to do? What if she returned too late? What if Edward, Charlie, and the crew were one of the twelve ships lost in the storm? Elena fiddles with the necklace, worrying the chain in between her fingers. She knows the risk of using the whistle again -- but she will, if it means saving their lives from such a fate. 

“That’s a pretty charm you have there,” Fran says, breaking the silence between them. “A bit odd-looking, but pretty.”

“Thanks.” Feigning a smile, Elena tries to subtly tuck it back into her shirt.

They reach the market soon enough. Along with Bronte’s, most of the stalls are boarded up or packed away. Out in the harbor, strong winds batter at the ships’ flags and rigging. Thick clouds roll along above the island, warning them of the approaching storm. Across the horizon, lightning dances atop the white-capped waves. Fran continues down to a covered section of the wharf, shadowed by a large building for ship repairs.

“Tommy! You still here?” she calls out as they round the next corner. 

Tucked back along the building are a few more stalls. Their choice in location isn’t lost on Elena. This is where other sorts of deals take place. If it weren’t obvious from the grizzled men that leer at them, the crates of pistols, bolts of fine lace, and casks of wine are enough of a statement on their own. 

“Aye, I’m here.” 

Dread rings its alarm bell loud and clear inside her skull when Rhodes steps out from the group of men. From the corner of her vision, Elena sees several more men approach her from behind. “Very good,” Rhodes croons at Fran, dropping a few coins into her waiting palm.

“I also snagged us this. Figured we could rough it up a bit and pass it off as the Bonnie Prince’s.” From her satchel, she pulls out the dagger Elena eyed at the shop. “And that charm she’s wearin’, that could go for a fair bit o’ coin.” 

The roof groans under the sudden onslaught of rain. Shoddy patch jobs let some of the water through, soaking the dry earth under their feet. Taking the blade from Fran, Rhodes tosses it between his hands, eyeing Elena all the while. That crooked smirk of his widens.

“Fran speaks the truth, ya know. I spoke with your captain not long before the storm. He told me a lovely tale about how he’s sailed the world looking for his love. It brought tears to my eyes, it really did.” 

“Touching,” Elena all but spits back at him. She lifts her chin to keep her eyes on his. Her hand hovers above her sword’s hilt.

“Too many heartless bastards out there, he said, trying to pull one over on ‘im.”

Her eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. “And you’re going to be different?” 

“O’course. He’s been chasing after lies for far too long. The lad wants proof.” Rhodes strikes; he throws an arm across her chest and slams her back into the wall. Her face smacks against the rough stone; she tastes blood on her tongue. “So, I’m going to slice off one of those pretty fingers of yers, and if he don’t respond to that, I’ll keep sending him more until he--”

Elena spits in his face. He reaches to wipe it away and she ducks under his hold, using the muddy ground to slide from his next punch. Knocking his arm away, she slams her fist against his kidneys. Rhodes collapses to one knee and growls out a long string of curses.

“Send him one of yours instead,” she snarls.

Swiping the dagger from his hand, she twirls it and grips it tight before seizing his other hand. The blade slices clean through three of his fingers. His howl of pain disappears under a loud clap of thunder.

“You fucking--”

His insult never lands. With a quick snap of her knee, she knocks his head into the wall. He collapses in a heap, mottled with blood and muck. Elena bends down and wipes the blade on a clean patch of his shirt. 

When she stands up, she finds Fran gone and the other men watching her from a few yards back. Sliding her new dagger into the sheath at her breast, she throws the men a mock salute and heads out into the storm. 

------

She’s woken by the smell of blood. 

Her hand goes up to attend to her nosebleed before she realizes the scent is a memory from her nightmare, the last dredges of it lingering in the confines of her quarters. Not wanting her bunkmates to wake to the sound of her crying, Elena climbs out and heads for the deck. With the skeleton crew this late at night, she has no trouble sneaking past them to reach her corner of solitude at the stern.   

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s aboard the Revenge. The salty ocean breeze and the rhythmic swaying of the ship could fool her so easily. When she opens her eyes, though, there is no Henry badgering her about trying his latest creation; no Charlie sauntering up with a bottle of rum; and no Edward drawing invisible lines between the stars to teach her the constellations. 

The same stars she’s looking up at now, knowing that somewhere out there across the sea, he might be gazing at them, too. 

The small pinpricks of light start to grow fuzzy. Elena folds her arms against the railing and buries her head in them, trying to muffle her crying. The idea of spending another month chasing after Edward is frustrating to no end. If this was her own time, she could just hunt him down on social media or track him down with a PI. Maybe it would be better if she planted her ass down on an island and waited for him, at this rate.    

“Are you bawling because you killed him?”

Elena jolts up in surprise. Her ribs smack against the railing. Rubbing a hand over them to soothe the ache, she turns and glowers at Robert. 

“I don’t remember inviting you to my pity party.”

“You didn’t. I crashed it.” Moving to stand beside her, he spends a long minute overlooking the dark ocean in front of them. Once she’s finished with trying to hide her tears, he asks again. “So, did you?”

“No.”

“A shame.” 

Captain Delaney was the only one to ask about Rhodes when he didn’t return. When no one else responded, Robert mentioned that he decided to take a position on another ship. The lie -- and the fact that no one cared all that much for the man anyway -- seemed to work. Delaney promoted another sailor to Rhodes’s position, and that was that.  

“I should’ve listened to you,” Elena laments, not-so-subtly wiping her tear-stained sleeve against her face. “This woman approached me and said she had information about Edward. I was baited -- hook, line, and sinker.” 

His hands clench tight around the railing. “Love can make you do stupid things.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Aye, actually, I am.” 

“Bullshit,” she says. “You’ve never once mentioned someone important. You only wanted to come back for the freedom, the adventure -- you said so yourself. And I understand that, I really do. The adventure is why I stayed in the first place. I could’ve snuck into Edward’s cabin or seduced him for the compass like that,” she snaps her fingers for emphasis, ignoring Robert’s snort of disbelief. “But once I had the chance… I stayed. It became about more than the thrill of it.”

“Why is it that you younguns think love is only for the thirty-and-under crowd?” 

“‘Younguns’?” Elena repeats with a grimace. 

“I was trying out some of yer Texas slang.”

“Nobody says that.” When he opens his mouth to protest, she holds up a hand. “Okay, nobody who didn’t fight in the fucking Alamo. But -- seriously, I want to know. Is there someone…?” she trails off, encouraging him to open up. 

Robert lets out a long, ragged sigh before digging into his coat. The compass in his hand is set into a simple wooden box, much less ornate than the previous one. Cradling the compass close to shield it from the wind, he digs a fingernail into a hidden switch and a small compartment slides open from the bottom. A twist of raven-colored hair falls into his palm, tied with a tiny length of twine. He traces his thumb across the coarse texture, his breathing unsteady. 

“His name is Julien. We met in Panama City while searching for Sir Francis Drake’s treasure that he stole from the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción. Though we never did find the gold, we ended up running a ship together and stealing some of our own.” Without glancing down, Robert slips the lock of hair back into the compartment and snaps it closed. It’s telling how reflexive it is, as if he repeats the move a hundred times a day. “We didn’t want to deal with the Spanish anymore than we had to, so we sailed to St. Lucia. ‘Twas run by France at the time, and our contact out there bragged about running a smuggling route right under their noses. But when we arrived, we found him in a gibbet. He’d been there a good while. Julien only knew ‘twas him from the ugly, purple trousers he wore.”

Having seen the skeletons hanging along some of the ports, Elena is thankful she missed seeing the late stages of decomposition. “Not long after, we were captured by the French. We managed to escape, but were forced to separate in order to get our crew out. Being French himself, Julien had a better chance at disguising himself as a local. The last I saw of him was when he went back in to retrieve Charlie. And then,” he pauses to clear his throat, “she came out and he didn’t, and we had to escape the island or risk getting caught all over again. And his attempts would’ve been for nothing.”

Elena wants nothing more than to wrap her friend in a hug. Knowing that he’s not big on physical touch, though, she gives what comfort she can by placing her hand alongside his on the railing. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“O’course you didn’t, because I never told you. Even in the future, there are places where our relationship would be met with the business end of a pistol.” Robert shrugs at the idea, but she can see in the set of his jaw how angry it makes him. “But even after I gained your trust and you told me about your past relationships, I felt like I still needed to keep him a secret. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

“Tell me about him,” she requests.

With a quiet chuckle, Robert shakes his head. 

“There isn’t enough time in the day to describe him, and I’m not one to wax poetic. But he is… kinder than me, certainly. A better shot than me, too. He’s the one who taught Charlie everything she knows. The chain I gave you, that’s for him.” He puts a hand up when Elena immediately reaches up to return it. “No, no -- that whistle is much too important. The chain isn’t the… I’ve already gotten a new one. I was hoping -- I have my grandfather’s ring that I would like him to wear. If he agrees, o’course.”

She suppresses the smile that wants to form at seeing Robert flustered. 

“You’re referring to him in the… do you know if he’s alive? Where he is?”

“The last confirmed sighting of him was three years ago in Curaçao, a small island off the coast of Venezuela.”

Her brows knit together as she studies him. “Then why are you here, in the north?”

His shoulders sag with the weight of his sigh, though she can see the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. 

“Because I made you a promise, remember? Last year, when we tried our hand at stealing the sceptre from the Crown Room. The only reason I’m not locked up in some Scottish ‘House of Special Purpose’ is because you came back for me. And I told you that I would stay by yer side until we found Edward.”

“I mean, if I had left you there, you would’ve just ratted me out as an accomplice.”

That gets a proper laugh from him. “True enough, but I’ll wager the thought never crossed yer mind, did it, kid?” Her small shrug is enough of a confirmation for him. “Julien’s somewhere out there, waiting for me,” he assures. “The man has the patience of a saint. So, I’ll be sticking with you ‘til then. Make sure you get home safe and all that.”

Annoyed at the night’s second round of tears trying to make their appearance, Elena keeps her eyes on the whitecaps in the distance. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” In a rare show of friendship, Robert knocks his elbow against hers and jostles her from the railing. “Seriously, don’t. I do have a reputation to uphold.”

------

References:

The “House of Special Purpose” is another name for the Ipatiev House, where Emperor Nicholas II, his family, and members of their household were executed in 1918. To my knowledge, there is no Scottish version -- mostly because MI5 operates out of the Thames House in London.

[diamondcamefromhell]

Fire

A/N: I got this request like a billion weeks ago and i am so sorry it took me so fucking long to get to it??? im incapable of handling resposibilites as you may know by now, lol, either way, since my third person thing seemed to be well recieved, i will do more now [hence, this] but will also stick to good ol’ first person, as i think some stories are better like that!

Summary: -summarized the request- Jaskier x reader where they both go on an adventure while Geralt is away with “some things” [wink wink] and they explore a cave, which ends up nearly collapsing on them

Warnings: swearing and just, fighting a cyclops

Word count: 2,493

Any and all feedback is GREATLY appreciated and can be left on my ask page anonymously!

They watched their friend leave, not sure what to do. Y/N sighed, tying her hair back, glancing at the bard in front of her. While Jaskier didn’t seem to worry, there was a shadow of something over his face. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy when Geralt went with some ladies, his mind drifting back to Yennefer. His fears were valid, and thus the girl knew she has to distract him.

“Hey, Jask.” She caught his attention, leaning over their table, a cheeky grin painting over face. “Want to go explore around?”

“It’s not safe.” Jaskier argued, glancing out the window. The dusk was coming as he could see the sun coming closing in to the horizon.

“I have Carabella and Wolf.” Y/N argued.

Jaskier glanced at the girl, as she pulled out her two swords.

Carabella has been with her for a few years now – it was her absolute favourite. It was steel, which wasn’t the most effective against monsters, and only single edged; Geralt didn’t approve of that limitation. However it was super long, curving a little bit near the end, a long handle made for comfortable grip. Her favorite part was that the sword was enchanted, and it would sometimes set the enemies on fire.

The Wolf, on the other hand, was silver. A gift from Geralt, hence the name. It was shorter than Carabella, and double edged. The handle was shorter, which helped having a stronger grip and better control. It was also enchanted, but Y/N wasn’t sure with what, as the witcher never confessed.

The pair were getting worried looks from the people, so the girl sheathed her weapons again, her eyes hungry for an adventure. Jaskier sighed, knowing too well that she will go with or without him. Reluctantly, he rose from the table, keeping his gaze on the woman, as she smiled, jumping up too. Bard helped her strap her steel sword on her back, and silver one on her side.

They left the tavern, Y/N throwing a pouch of coins to pay for their drinks.

The evening was warm, and the sun was highlighting the small village. A few pigs walked by, oinking at the pair. It was a peaceful day, the breeze barely picking up. Jaskier started at Y/N, wondering how he ever got so lucky as to meet someone like her.

Not only did she look beautiful in this light, she was painfully not aware of it. Her heart was one of the kindest he met, and her smile truly lit up his world. He could be caught dead staring at her, admiring the way she does practically anything; to say he was enticed with her wouldn’t do it justice. And whenever their eyes would meet, Jaskier would feel truly seen. Not for being a simple bard, or the great master bard, as some called him. She saw the deepest corners of his soul, not ever even trying to judge him.

She felt the same about him. He wasn’t there to judge her, or to scold her about how her sword skills are not ‘lady like’. She practically never wore dresses, and Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. They accepted each other truly, and in this lovely evening, they were comfortable in the silence between them.

They left the village behind, going towards the woods. Wolfs howled somewhere far, but Y/N hand still hoovered over her trusty Carabella.

“I will protect you.” She teased Jaskier, who rolled his eyes in response.

“I can protect myself just fine.” He argued, knowing full well that he couldn’t.

“Against a pack of wolves?” She lowered her hand from her sword, grinning. “I’d like to see that.”

“What, your favorite bard torn to pieces?” They both laughed, gazing ahead at the woods they were now in.

They both knew there was a cave here, but Jaskier wasn’t sure that it was where Y/N wanted them to go and explore. Geralt has warned them against it, apparently it’s occupied by a big angry cyclops.  If anything, that intrigued the girl, as these monsters were just big and stupid.

Once the woods covered them, they started walking slower, paying attention to their surroundings. You never know what lurks in these woods, just to be safe, the girl placed her hand on her silver weapon, walking closer to her friend.

“Isn’t this exciting?” She whispered, as Jaskier shot her an anxious glare, which she didn’t see.

“I don’t doubt your abilities, but no, this isn’t fun.” She scoffed, grabbing Jaskier’s hand with her free one. This send a blush to bards face.

“Does this make it better?” She teased, not glancing at the bard – hiding heat hitting her own cheeks.

“Sure.” Jask mumbled under his breath, not sure if she could even hear him.

But it didn’t matter, as they stopped, standing in front of a big opening. Jaskier felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he could not see a thing inside, but he heard some rumbling deep down. Looking at his friend, however, he saw nothing but excitement.

Y/N always had a knack for adventures.

She knew Jaskier would be weary, scared even. She also knew he will follow her, so fully readying Wolf for battle, she stepped into the darkness, her hand letting go of Jask. She felt a tinge of hesitation, but soon adrenaline washed over her, and she calmed.

Unlike witcher, she didn’t have heightened senses, nor did she have any potions that could help her see, but she stepped bravely. Soon enough, she heard stumbling behind hear, and a second person joined her. A bright, but dangerous idea struck her.

“Jaskier.” She whispered, not sure where he was in the dark.

“Yeah?” He was closer than she expected, making her flinch. She took her Wolf in the other hand, pulling out Carabella carefully.

“I want you to take Carabella, so be careful now.” She grew weary about handing him the sword blindly. “When we meet the cyclops, hit it if you see an opening, but be careful. The sword might set in on fire, providing us some light.”

“I can’t handle a sword!” He argued, still whispering. The woman sighed, nudging him. Jaskier understood her strategy, but still wasn’t eager to go with it, but his hand still lingered over where he thought the sword would be. His hand landed on hers. “Sorry.”

“’Tis okay.” Y/N mumbled, making sure he has a good grip on the sword. “The sharp side is facing left now, but it doesn’t matter. You stay back, only hit the thing if it’s safe. I’ll take care of it.”

“In the absolute darkness.” Anxiety rushed over her, but she rolled her eyes, even if the bard couldn’t see it, he knew that’s what she did.

“We’ll be fine.” She said, and she had to believe her words. Y/N was sure of one thing, she would sooner drop dead than allow anyone to hurt the bard by her side.

They ventured into the darkness, towards the noise. They took their time, allowing their sight to adjust, and soon enough ahead she saw a big shadow. Part of her wondered now, if she should duel-wield, leaving Jaskier out of danger; the thing was way bigger than she imagined.

But it was too late, as the thing probably spotted them too.

Jaskier was aware of how much hatred these things had for humans, but when it roared, he felt like running away. Holding Carabella with his shaky hands was his only defense, as well as some knowledge to avoid them.

“If it charges, duck to the side.” Y/N mumbled quickly, going around the circular cave, leaving Jask stuck in his spot. “Never try to run from it, you wont outrun this thing. But it is stupid, so roll, dodge, whatever, to the side.”

“Okay.” Jaskeir said, but they both noted he didn’t sound confident. A shadow of regret was looming over the girl, as she peeled her gaze from Jask-shadow, to their enemy in front.

Before the beast could figure out which one of them to rush, Y/N rolled in, aiming Wolf right at it’s calf. It yelled, slapping the ground – she barely avoided its fist. A cloud of dust made her vision even worse, as she stumbled back.

She heard Jaskier yell, fear striking her. She was yet to be aware that he was readying himself for his attack. He rushed the thing, barely grazing it, but the Carabella did what it does best, it set the beast on flame.

No, not the cyclops itself, but the shacks it was wearing.

Y/N vision unclouded, and she wished it didn’t, as she saw the burning cyclops loom over her. Her hands trembled, as the one eye stared at her. The cyclops had a scarred face, clearly broken and badly healed bones too. How many fights did this thing win, she later wondered. Now all she could do was stare at it’s balding head.

Only when Jaskier striked again, hitting the cyclops with the blunt end, she sprung to her feet, cutting it’s legs. In the corner of her eye, she saw petrified Jaskier stare at his sword. The clothes it was wearing were almost done burning, meaning their light was literally fading.

“Jaskier!” Her voice powered over the cyclops, who was yet to turn around. “Give me Carabella, now!”

“But..” the bard wanted to argue, but Y/N rushed to him, sheathing Wolf, grabbing the steel weapon. She winked at the bard, as if to reassure him things will be okay. He doubted either of them believed it.

With the last flames still intact, and the cyclops now facing them, Y/N waved the sword, running to the side, just as cyclops charged. Jaskier barely avoided it, but the girl wasn’t sure if he did, as a new dust cloud covered the air, last flames going out.

She attacked the thing, betting that her pure rage and fear that the bard might’ve been hurt will carry her through. And it did, after her fifth hit, the thing set ablaze again, but this time it was cyclops itself.

That send the beast on a rampage, as it started hitting anything and everything. The cave started to rumble, as the beast managed to land a hit on Y/N. She flew a few meters back, landing on her feet still. Her eyes finally met terrified Jaskier, who was running towards her.

She signaled him to go towards the exit, but cyclops had a similar idea. She saw that the thing was using its last braincell, targeting the only way out. Now she knew she would have to distract it.

“Go! I’ll catch up.” She yelled through the noise, taking Wolf out. She knew it was time to duel-wield.

Jaskier wanted to rush to help her, but he also knew he would be a distraction; so he listened to her, bolting for an exit as soon as he got an opening. He glanced back, to see his friend strike the beast with both swords, setting in on fire anew.

Then her beautiful figure appeared behind him, rushing towards him like a deer. The cave was moments from collapsing, he was sure of it, and they still had a long way to go.

With their lungs on fire, they raced to the exit, and out of sheer panic, once they were close, Jaskier launched himself on the girl, sending them flying out of the cave. He seemed to forget that she was wielding two swords, not thinking that they might get stabbed.

Luckily, she dropped the weapons out of sheer shock of getting sent flying. Part of her thought it was the cyclops, but once she nearly faceplanted, and Jaskier dropped on top of her, she knew it was the bard. She couldn’t help but let out a laugh, as the bard grunted on top of her.

“Not funny.” He managed, finally lifting the weight of the girl, who rolled around.

She saw a couple of scratches on Jaskier’s face, but nothing serious. Her heart eased, as she continued laying down, staring at him.

“You did well.” She finally complimented him, as he blushed, still pretending to be angry. “This was fun.”

“Fun?” Jaskier used air-quotations, making Y/N giggle, as she started at him. The sun has began to set and the most beautiful colors shined on this bard and she wanted to take it in. “The cave almost buried us alive.”

“Hey, we had plenty of time.” Y/N argued, gently nudging the bard, who let out a sigh. “It’s still standing.”

With that, the cave seemed to want to prove her wrong; it collapsed before she could even finish the sentence. The sound was horrible, but at least she was sure any wolves got scared away. Somewhere inside, they heard the cyclops wail, until it disappeared, as the ground shook. It send a dust cloud their way.

They both covered their eyes, staring at was once cave entrance. There was a wave of laughter that seemed to hit them both, as they both lent back, laughing.

It echoed, until silence struck between them and the dust settled. The swords were nearly crushed by the rubble, but neither Y/N, nor Jaskier seemed to care about it, as they gazed at each other, smiles on their faces.

“You saved me.” Y/N softly spoke, as the bard leaned in.

“What do you mean?” Jaskier asked, genuinely confused. All he knew was that he hit a cyclops – with the wrong side of the Carabella, and in his head that didn’t sound like help.

“I was blinded from the dust, when you caught it on fire.” She explained, gently placing her hands on his. “The thing probably would’ve crushed me, if you didn’t distract it and give me some light.”

“Well,” Jaskier puffed his chest, winking at Y/N, “then you owe me one, my lady.”

“How about this.”

Y/N leaned in, landing a kiss on the bards lips. It took him by surprise, making his heart miss a few beats, and then it tried to catch up to it -beating faster than he could manage. But when she pulled away, he was hungry for more, but too shy to ask.

She took her gaze from him, now shy, staring at her swords. They reflected the sunset nearly blinding her. Jaskier squeezed her hands.

“Should I pay back for all the times you saved me?” Jaskier managed to flirt, as Y/N looked at him, a laugh escaping her lips.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She winked at Jaskier. “I also take interest, since you are late on your payments.”

“I think I’ll manage.” Jaskier smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

The sun casted a shadow of a man behind them, that they were yet to notice. Geralt stared at the entrance, not really interested in his friends making out.

He was supposed to go in and slay the beast. Now the whole thing has caved in.

“Fuck.” Geralt muttered, lowering his sword.

[theredconversegirl]

hi! i’m the anon that asked about blurbs and one shots!! i just thought of a blurb where sakura is bitten by a poisonous bug or something where the venom is slow moving (kinda like sasori’s where the victim dies within three days) but there are serious symptoms like major fatigue, graphic hallucinations and excruciating pain and while sakura is enduring those symptoms all sasuke can do is comfort her until they find a cure?? idk KSKSK im not talented enough to write this but ANGST

Hi there nonny! :) 

Thanks for sending me this prompt! I always liked the idea of Sakura or Sasuke taking care of each other in a situation like this. 

My first attempt to write this was terrible, so I took my time with the second. Also, I’m having computer issues and my writing time is limited because of that 😓

This is my first attempt of writing angst, so please forgive me if it’s not good enough 😬. I had to play a bit with what you suggested, since I think Sasuke wouldn’t wait three days to try to save her, he’d probably teleport to Tsunade asap! 😂

Hope you like it anyway! 💕

Title: “Bane” Rate: T Words: 3854 Warnings: Shinobi AU where Sasuke never left and has both arms.

📌 Read also here: Fanfiction | ao3

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bane | noun { 1. a cause of great distress or annoyance. 2. something, especially poison, which can cause death.

—————————————————————————— 

This was supposed to be an easy mission.

A simple, easy, piece of cake mission – like any diplomatic mission is these days.

As the enemies surround them (not slightly concerned with stealth at all), Sasuke decides, with amusement glinting in his eyes, that nothing is really simple or easy when it comes to Team Seven – even though they are only two this time.

His hand unsheathes his kusanagi with a swift motion, and though it could help them, Sasuke doesn't bother to activate his Sharingan. He hears rather than sees the confidence his teammate has on them when Sakura turns her back to him and tugs at her combat gloves, the leather stretching around her fingers.

Despite the years apart, they both work surprisingly well together. The nearly impeccable teamwork flows like a river does towards the sea; merciless and inevitable.

There's only a moment of hesitancy where hundreds of sharp senbons rain towards him, and although he can probably move in time, Sakura uses her momentum after a kick to push him to the opposite direction.

After that, punches to the ground are synced with swipes of his sword. Right hooks with roundhouse kicks. And when it ends, hardly five minutes later, they are both panting, sharing complacent smiles.

Sasuke feels a warming feeling swirling inside him, a mix of post-battle excitement, the remnants of the adrenaline in his veins, and something else he can't really name. The light buzz accompanies him as he ties all the nukenins and sends a hawk to the Kazekage; they are still in Suna's territory after all.

The warmth dissipates, draining him instantly, when he sees Sakura swaying from foot to foot, a grimace twisting her dainty features.

"What's going on?"

She replies but whatever the answer is, it comes out as an intelligible slur. She tries again and the effort is futile. Her hands flicker green for a second, but the chakra flow cuts off, and that alarms Sasuke.

He might be wrong (and he hopes he is), but Sasuke thinks he knows what's happening to her. He has seen this reaction before – a few times in the Snake's lab, and once on the road – and every time, it was associated with the exposure of poisonous substances. It starts mostly with the inebriated state Sakura is in.

Quickly, Sasuke steps in her personal space and scans her face, neck, her bare arms, turning her around and moving her limbs like she's a ragdoll. He's looking for the point of contact, where most of the substance should still be. He doesn't find anything other than debris though, consequence of her powerful punches.

He exhales slowly, trying to concentrate on their next steps. If Sakura is indeed poisoned, he needs to act quickly. Konoha is about two days away by foot. He doesn't have enough chakra for a teleport. Naruto is Kami-knows-where. And they are still in the middle of the freaking desert.

As he runs the possibilities through his mind, Sasuke glances down, still holding her arm, and sees the moment where she struggles to move her red dress. Unconsciously, he extends his hand to help her, bunching up one side of the dress above her waist. He holds the fabric there, trying to avoid her eyes as she mumbles something close to a thank you.

There's an angry scratch above her hip, not larger than five inches, which is quickly swelling. Sakura tries to close the broken skin with her chakra, but it's useless; it flickers a few times feebly and then fades.

Whatever poison coated the weapon responsible for this wound, Sasuke thinks, it reacts slowly, with the intention to catch the opponent off guard, no doubt. It's eating her chakra cells, blocking its paths one by one.

He confirms that as he checks her with his Sharingan; her reserves are nearly empty, and he can distinctively see a few spots whirling inside of Sakura's chakra system. Sasuke tells her that, but the medic-nin is clearly struggling to process the information.

His time with Orochimaru taught him a lot about poisons – and he's even immune to a few thanks to that – but this one doesn't match the ones he personally knows. If it's anything like the one Sakura herself found the cure for all those years ago here in Suna, there's nothing much he can do; his limited knowledge in medical ninjutsu warrants that.

With the night approaching, and the risk of sandstorms, Sasuke decides to find shelter and wait in a safe place where he can replenish enough chakra to take them back home – by summon or whichever option he can use first.

He only has time to secure her arm around his neck when Sakura slumps against him. Cautiously, he guides them through the endless dunes until he sees the entrance of a small cave they spotted earlier that day.

Her smaller body is tucked in his arms by the time they get inside, her skin cold to the touch. Sasuke shrugs off his travel cloak and lays Sakura on top of it. He works quickly after that, making a fire to keep them warm, and returning to her side.

Disoriented, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, Sakura mumbles words every now and then. She whines and pants, and Sasuke knows the poison is spreading. He reaches for her medical pouch and unclasps it from her belt. Inside there are herbs, and syringes, first aid items, and other things Sasuke has no clue how to use.

In the light the small fire provides, Sasuke notices the changes in her; the ashen color of her face, the perspiration coating her skin, and her usually rosy lips turning blue.

A strangled cry forces him to move again, and he curses under his breath as he continues rummaging her things. She's dying and the realization bothers him more than he cares to admit; Sasuke knows he's on borrowed time.

Stupid, foolish woman, the words echoes in his head as he unrolls their travel blankets over her shivering body.

Before she's covered, Sasuke checks her pulse, brows furrowing in deep concern when he finds only a faint hint of her heartbeat. It's thready at best, and he needs to do something.

Anything.

He hears his name, he thinks, her voice is strained and the word broken on her lips, but the "kun" gives it away. He knows she's calling him.

His hand moves on its own, touching her cheek first, then her forehead, checking her temperature. Her skin is clammy and feverish, and he shouldn't be surprised with the fast development of her symptoms, but he still is.

"I'm here," he rasps, hopeful that she'll open her bright green eyes for him.

Sakura hums, and curls to his side, seeking his warmth even though she's warm enough for the both of them. She's crying, he notices; tracks of fresh tears run from one cheek down her neck.

He goes back to the pile of things he gathered from their backpacks and finds a piece of clean fabric. He folds the cloth and damps it with some water. When the cool compress is placed on her temple, Sakura sighs in relief, but her pained expression doesn't ease his mind. Not one bit.

Sasuke kneels beside her, pressing the cloth against her burning skin. His fingers brush her pink locks away, and he huffs, almost amused, when she blindly follows his touch. The Uchiha knows it's no use, but he calls her anyway, firm and louder this time. She doesn't respond.

He can't help but glare at her, because how dare she? She should have known better; she's scolded so many people about the dangers of battle wounds and enemies' weapons, him included.

The intensity of his gaze loses its strength when he considers everything again. Sakura is the last person that deserves such a fate; a painful, restless death. A death without a goodbye. A death that's not really hers.

He wishes he could take her place, and a little voice in his mind tells him that's how it was supposed to be. The Uchiha frowns, but it only lasts for a short moment as realization hits him; he's almost certain that she earned that scratch in that one moment he hesitated. That one moment where she pushed him out of the way. It was supposed to be him laying on this cold floor, withering away little by little. Not her.

"Idiot," he mutters, "why did you do that?"

"Sasu—"

Sakura's breathing becomes rattled, pain twisting her features, and for a brief moment he feels hope. If she can feel pain, it means she can still fight, right?

He abandons the cold compress on her forehead to move the covers aside. In the haste of getting her warm, he completely forgot about her wound. In a deliberate way, Sasuke removes her red dress, exposing the infected area. Blisters form close to the scratch, the flesh angry and swollen around the wound.

Sasuke snatches the first aid kit he found earlier in her pouch and prepares the ointment to clean the cut. He applies a little pressure as he works, covering the entire area with herbs once it looks sanitary enough. Sakura thrashes during the entire process, and the only way to avoid more damage and ensure that he can finish his work without hurting her more, is to straddle her small body, pinning her legs underneath him.

With his Sharingan, he keeps track of her progress, careful to not waste too much chakra. Now that he's taking a better look at it, he notices a concentration of the dark substance still close to the opened gash.

He doesn't even stop to think it through. Sasuke grabs a kunai and deepens the cut, pressing just right to push the poison out. She screams in response, shouting profanities, and jerking wildly in pain the entire time. But he can't stop now, even if the last thing he wants is to see her suffering, he can't stop; it's for her own good.

He snatches her wrists with one hand and presses her stomach with the other, his tomoes spinning and watching attentively as he removes as much of the malicious substance as he can. The dark, putrid liquid starts to ooze out of the wound, and Sasuke uses his knee to pin her to her side in an angle that helps the extraction process.

The moment that the last drop is removed, Sakura's chakra flares and she goes limp under him. He watches, Sharingan still taking in every detail, as her body starts to slowly give out and her nearly lifeless weight sinks to the ground.

No, no, no. She's supposed to get better...

When his gaze settles on her face, Sasuke notices how her breathing is shallow, a stark difference from a minute ago. Her features are slowly relaxing as if the pain is dissipating with each breath she takes.

Is this how it ends?

He's surprised when the thought crosses his mind. Sasuke's not one that contemplates the future; he's always thought he'd die young, after killing his brother. He's never expected to turn twenty. And he has never thought about rekindling the bonds he broke all those years ago when he left.

But here he is, a reinstated and pardoned Konoha shinobi, a war hero, a teammate, a friend, a brother. All things he wasn't two years ago. And now, before he even had the chance to really stop and think about his future, he can't.

This is not how we're supposed to end, he thinks, a hand running through his dark locks as he looks down at her with a myriad of emotions he's never associated with his name when looking at Sakura; pain, regret, remorse, sorrow, and pure, unadulterated sadness.

He releases her tiny wrists, sagging against her, defeated. The tiny hope he had gained leaves him as he continues to sink in his own storm, feeling as if he's being submerged under water, deprived of his air.

That obscure corner of his mind, the one that's full of self-loathing and doubt, whispers, "but did you even begin?''

On a whim, or maybe it's the bubbling rage inside of him, Sasuke growls like a wounded animal, releasing a burst of his chakra around them. His chest heaves and his shoulders shake, but he still feels numb. Empty.

He hears a whimper, even though his ears ring with the echo of his own anger. A choked gasp escapes him when he looks down.

It seems that the pulse of chakra he released has been absorbed by Sakura's body – somehow. His sharp eyes can clearly see her jugular pulsing, her eyes moving frantically underneath her lids, lashes fluttering against her lightly rosy cheeks.

There's… there is still a fighting chance.

As fast as he can, Sasuke scans his surroundings, noting every single resource available to him. He eliminates anything he can't use and lists possible steps; everything happens in a span of thirty seconds.

He considers summoning Garuda to take them home, but the amount of chakra is not enough. He considers Aoda – but that would require even more chakra – or any other smaller snake that could assist. But the solution, the best-case scenario, comes from a stupid idea that only Naruto could come up with. And maybe it's worth the shot, because all Naruto's ideas work in some way.

As blood runs from Sakura's wound towards the floor, a red path painting her fair skin, Sasuke transfers most of his chakra to her, calculating exactly how much he'll need to succeed. Then, he grabs her hands with his, swipes her thumb over her own blood, and guides her through the signs of Kuchiyose no Jutsu.

He pushes the last of his chakra to her hands, forcing the jutsu to drain the previously infused amount when he says the words. The smoke takes him by surprise (deep down he didn't have much faith in this plan), and when he sees a slime creature not bigger than his hand, he sighs in relief.

The tiny slug is very polite and right to the point. It pleases him greatly when she quickly understands the situation and gets to work. Katsuyu guides him, asking him to confirm where the rest of the venom is located, and with his bloodline once more he scans Sakura's body, pointing out the chakra path that is blocked and tainted by the poison.

The summon tells him he did a great job considering the limited resources and chakra available to him. Although she's being very helpful and sharing more than necessary, narrating her every move and findings, the slug's little voice trembles when she says that if the substance had reached Sakura's heart, things would have been different.

And suddenly, the severity of this predicament downs on him (again), because he has seen with his own eyes how the dark swirl is stuck a few inches short of that destination. His own heart constricts painfully, galloping against his ribcage as a life without pink flashes in the front of his mind.

"Sasuke-san?" Katsuyu calls, "ready?"

The question breaks him out of his stupor, and he nods quickly, pushing aside the plummeting feeling in order to get to more important matters. Sakura.

Together, they isolate the venom and the slug coerces it out of Sakura's main chakra path, pushing it towards the opened wound. It doesn't take long, and as the last drops leave Sakura's body, he notices how the color starts to return to her pale face.

"It's done," the slug says as she slides away from Sakura, taking the poison with her. "Sakura-sama is still weak and will need to break through the fever on her own."

"What do you mean?"

"My time here is ending, and you both need your rest. Her body will need to recover on its own until her chakra reserves are full again."

"I see. Thank you"

"No, thank you, Uchiha-san. Please take care of her!"

"Aa."

The summon disappears not long after, and Sasuke knows he'll be eternally grateful for its help.

For the first time in two hours, he allows himself to relax. Sasuke slouches backwards, leaning on the cave wall, head tipped up. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs completely, and it's so invigorating that makes him think how a simple action that he does everyday – all the time – can feel so different, so good.

He reaches for the medical supplies and gets back to work. With a clinical eye, he carefully sterilizes her wound, cleans her skin, and then bandages it. He checks her temperature, tilts her head to give her some water, and repeats the routine like clockwork.

The silence, which usually is a comfort to the last Uchiha, is now a nuisance. It makes his mind overwork, inflicting painful thoughts, and aggravating his already guilty consciousness. The wind whispers angrily outside, though he hears it loud and clear.

She almost died.

In his place.

She's suffering.

Because of him.

Again.

A small whimper escapes her, and Sasuke thinks with mild exasperation, that's becoming one of his new favorite sounds. Maybe it comes second, losing only to her sickeningly sweet laughter.

She whispers and mumbles and Sasuke knows it's the remnants of the poison talking. And, between nonsense filled dreams, curses and random fits of rage, Sakura cries – a lot. It's not really a surprise when he stops to think about it, but it's not a pleasant sight, even though he knows it means she's getting better, naturally recovering.

She cries about the Dobe not realizing the Hyuuga girl is madly in love with him since Kami knows when, and how it pains her to see him being a fool every day, completely oblivious.

She cries about Tsunade going on a vacation and not inviting her.

She cries about her parents. Her mother's incessant inquiries about weddings and grand-babies, and her daddy's poor sense of humor that she secretly loves.

She cries about Ino. How the blonde keeps forgetting to return her things, and insists on pushing Sakura to date, because… she shouldn't wait forever.

He doesn't really know how to react to the last one. Sasuke is in a phase where emotions and feelings are still confusing, and there's also this new part of him that constantly fights between what's right versus what he wants. And as much as he wants her, he knows he's not right for her. It wouldn't be the right decision.

As the hallucinations go back and forth, there are more broken words than complete thoughts, but at a certain moment he knows he's there with her. The next words are proof enough and nobody can say otherwise.

"Please don't— don't go Sasu—hn."

Her voice is broken and exhausted, loaded with so much pain that he can almost touch it.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here." He says resolutely, because he's done running away.

Sasuke takes her hand on his, comforting her like she did once. He's not sure Sakura can hear him, and he squeezes her hand – a little harder than necessary – waiting for her to squeeze back.

She doesn't.

He watches as she struggles through painful memories, and as the masochist he is, Sasuke relives them along with her. Some words are welcome, and even missed, but others are venom and sting more than expected. He doesn't miss the irony of all, wondering if fate is messing with him – if such a thing exists, that is.

The torture session, as he calls it, lasts no longer than a few hours. Sakura's fever breaks sometime between her memories of the war and the events after. Her natural color is returning fully and even the tip of her nose is pink.

As her senses start to work again, Sakura tries to raise herself into a sitting position, and she huffs, frustrated, when she can't. Sasuke soothes her confusion by drawing little circles on her back.

"Why?" He asks, his voice lower than a whisper.

Although Sasuke's tried to contain his anger, frustration – or whatever this is – he can feel it coming off in waves as he finally sees her eyes again; as glassy and green as they were that morning. There was a moment, not long ago, he thought he wouldn't see them again.

When she doesn't reply, he tells her how careless she was. How they were supposed to work together as a team and not jump to save each other's lives like when they were kids. He scolds her like she's a petulant child that disobeyed her parent's orders and because of that she'd hurt herself.

Sakura doesn't say a word or look at him. She moves away with great effort, leaning on the wall of the cave beside him. When she's settled, she looks up at him. And this time, her eyes are blazing with anger.

She tilts her chin up in defiance and says, tone flat, "because I'm a medic."

They both scowl, hearing the statement as the lie it is; it's not only because of that.

"You are an idiot, that's what you are."

His words, his voice grows heated and Sasuke is not sure if they are directed to her or himself. And as expected, Sakura gives back as much as she gets, matching his tone and glare.

"Oh, excuse me for trying to save my teammate's life," she tells him like what she did was a normal occurrence. "I didn't know it was an idiotic idea."

"Tch. You shouldn't have done that, Sakura." He reproaches, nearly losing his strength when he continues, "I could—" have lost you.

"You don't tell me what to do, Uchiha."

"Tell me why you did that," he probes, despite the way she crosses her arms and throws him a menace look.

"I don't know!" Sakura yells, "my body just moved, okay?!"

A deafening silence follows then. The tension crackles explosively as they lock their eyes in a familiar stare-down. The weight and meaning of her statement are not lost on him.

He thinks of his day, how it was supposed to be just an easy return home. He thinks of how scared he was from the moment she fell until she opened her eyes again. He thinks of how infuriating this woman is. How she drives him crazy, pushing him to situations where he cannot do a thing.

Her chest heavens, but Sasuke knows it has nothing to do with the poison, not anymore. When he moves closer, lips parting to answer her, it's not like either of them expected.

He crushes his lips to hers, moving them effortlessly, showing her the severity of her actions and what they— she means to him.

It's messy, and desperate, and belated, but still full of emotions and meaning. Their first kiss tells her he won't risk losing her again. Maybe it's not right, but he knows it is what they both want.

And this is how they finally begin.

[usertoxicyaoi]

hey faiza!!! i hope you've been having a good day so far 💕 i was scrolling through your replies tag (which i do every other week when i have free time bc you have a beautiful way with words and it helps put my mind at ease for a while) and i thought it was already past the time where i come here and express my gratitude to you (which i tried doing once before but i felt awkward and didn't want to be a nuisance (haha get it?)). ever since i began following, i've learned so so SO much. not only +

+ about the islam and all desi matters (that i had so little knowledge about, shame on me! it's a beautiful culture and i'm so glad i'm able to see a slice of and learn about it through your blog!!), but also about so many other things, whether it be lgbtqia+ topics, just perks of life and even how to be more conscious and educated about the things and pieces of media i consume. i'm just a teenager u kno, whereas you are already a grown woman, so i couldn't possibly compare us as equal, as you certainly have more life experiences and knowledge than i do, and we come from drastically different places; my view of the world is still so limited to my surroundings and where i come from, but it's within the internet that i find a place to learn more about others and make that view of the world be wider, richer and more mindful. god i feel like im derailing, sorry shdhajd, but my point is: i didn't expect to be able to learn so much when i began watching bls again this year, i thought i would watch the shows, follow some blogs for pretty gifs, and that's all. but i was wrong, because tumblr gave me the opportunity to meet and befriend so many incredible people and i was so lucky that you were one of them. i've said this before but, my tumblr experience is so much better whenever i see you on my dash talking about whatever it is, and i look up to you so so so much. i'm not a religious person but the way you talk about the islam, the Qur'an or Allah makes me feel so emotional and it's beautiful to see this deep and passionate connection you have with this religion. and just how incredibly articulated you are when talking about any topic, it always makes me stop scrolling and read all the things you write. i adore reading your thoughts, your opinions and your take on things because they always come from a place of reflection, appreciation and respect, and i admire that a lot. you have such a wonderful and kind soul, it's so inspiring to me to see how you always try to be positive, optimistic and respectful no matter what is in front of you. of course, we don't //really// know each other that well, but the little of you that you pour out and show us is already so beautiful and welcoming 💓 i'm gonna stop now i'm sorry that this is so long goddd i just.... i wanted to thank you for all that you do for those who follow you and how impactful your presence on my tumblr experience has been. (i swear to you, when you followed me back on this blog before i made the sideblog, i legit freaked out lmao my mind was "WHAT??? SHE, WHO'S SO CLEVER AND AMAZING AND TALENTED, JUST FOLLOWED ME? WHEN I HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER?? SJDHSJSJ WHAT" and tbh i still don't know What made you want to be mutuals but i'm glad for whatever it was 💞) i hope all the parts go and im so sorry it's so long shdnksjdj

dawn!!! hello my sunshine!!!!!!!!! i hope you've had a lovely week, and i hope this weekend you take some time off and relax! i hope you're doing well!!!

oh my goodness me i- what have i done to deserve this I DO NOT DESERVE this. thank you so so much for just. being so loving and you are so so wise, i READ your tags, i READ your posts. and i think, despite however old or young people are, there's something to learn from everyone. there's something to appreciate and pick up on and implement and become more aware of and about from everyone's story of life. so don't ever think you may not have much to offer!

this year's been hard. a lot has happened. and i think everything has been a lesson to learn from, and for us to really truly understand what it is that really matters the most to us, and to show gratitude for what we have, all the blessings we have. and its hard to stay positive all the time, and thats okay. sometimes, our sadness needs room and space also where its telling us to just ... take a moment and reflect on why the sadness is there. but i've become so .... adamant that i choose to go back and think positively again. bc although it feels like we've been stripped away from being physically social, i've seen how much goodness and humanity there is still left within people on here, within all my mutuals - and i realised that, as long as there is goodness in this world, there's no reason to give up on hope. people together can make so many things happen.

and part of, i feel, what people should be proud of, is being proud of who they are. not in the arrogant sense, but in terms of WHO you are. what makes you, you. and now more than ever we need to know about one another. about different backgrounds and cultures and religions and beliefs etc. we can become ambassadors of those things, and being an authentic source of knowledge for people. of course, not everyone may like that, but thats okay. knowledge is power and there's so much knowledge out there for us to dip into. by learning from another, we can truly enrich ourselves, find out about commonalities and similarities and differences and contrasts. and ultimately realise that every single one of us has the right to life and the right to live. we can share our sorrow and pain, and also share our moments of joy and happiness too. we may not all agree on the same thing, but that should not sway us from wanting to befriend someone and missing out on an opportunity to get to know someone, just because you may not agree on one thing. there could be 10 things you do agree on vs that 1 that you dont. and that doesnt stop you from being any less you, nor them being any less them. we all deserve respect and kindness, despite our similarities and despite our differences from one place, culture, religion or belief, to the next.

there is just. there is so much good in this world, in nature, in people. we need to celebrate that. we need to appreciate goodness and just. be thankful for everything we have, and anything we get on top of what we have, is a blessing.

thank you so so so much!!! i love youuuuu!!!! 🧡🧡🧡

[to-be--naked]

Michael Richard Baker

Things that annoyed/concerned me or I disliked about Michael Richard Baker.

He was a slob

He had no drive to get beyond where he was then

He has not once been true to his word, with little things and SEVERAL, BIG things

He lied. Again. And a again

He hurt me. Again. And again.

His mom. That’s all I’m saying there.

He is monogomous

He’s an abandoner

he didnt have his priorities right

His dental hygiene. ew.

I felt held back by him

He never talked to me about a lot of important things. He let things pile up, so that he grew resentful

Ha, right after i typed that someone tweeted, “#Virgos will hold their feelings in so much that they will explode and it will seem like it came from out of nowhere.”

We dated on and off for a year and a half and he literally left me nothing but a pair of underwear. No written letters (which i asked on several occassions as i was in rehab and communicatiopn was limited.) No tokens of affection. Not a pressed flower. A ticket stub. Nothing. (EDIT: he got me a paci and stuffies, and a pipe and probably other various things im forgetting)

He couldnt budget his money at all.

He wouldnt go to / make critical doctors appointments, such as figuring out his seizures

He wouldnt seek or accept help

If it wasn’t one thing with him, it was another

He wasn’t okay, mentally

Things I liked/loved about Michael Richard Baker

He will be a great dad

I can tell him anything

He sees ALL of me, every part and aspect.

I can be vulnerable with him, or so it felt like i could

All of the senses of my humors, he has too. Anything I find funny, I pretty much know he will too, and in the same way that I am finding it funny. It makes laughing together an intimate affair.

We understand each other’s pain more than anyone, ever

He knows something about everything.

We have intriguing and stimulating conversations

We can talk about any topic and have an interesting conversation, or a meaningful one.

We are in love

I get lost in ‘us’

He uses proper grammar and punctuation

His eyes entranced me

he blushes a lot. and his face gets red when things are funny to him

He is Catholic

He understands spiritual and religious angst

He understands the purpose of spirituality and religion

He has a great vocabulary, and is always teaching me new words

He was always teaching me things in general, about everything

His knowledge makes me feel safe and protected

He values parenthood as much as I do

We appreciat a lot of the same things in life

He is extremely empathetic

He is incredibly handsome

He has great legs

He has great arms

His tummy is perfect

And everything else too

He understood my dark places

He made me feel child-like, not in a little way, but like both of our inner children could play together.

He understood my trauma, my seizure, in a way im afraid no one ever will again

he had the most perfect amount of hair on his body

can i say his eyes again? Amber, my favorite. 

His voice 😍 it was so calming and sexy

HOLY SHIT. Amber by 311 just came on, right after i typed that. 

I miss him. 

He was my everything, all in one. My best friend. My lover. My brother. My daddy. 

Emphasis on that brother part. Its important and rare. It was a bond like me and my sister, only everything else too.

He made me feel understood

His laugh is adorable

He is always coming up with hilarious, and dumb, puns

I feel we are cosmically connected.

When I told them I needed more romance, more words of affirmation, and encouragement, and once I explained more explicitly what I want, he started doing it. He still needs to work on encouragement, but he is trying. 3/11/2021

I feel the most safe when I am with you

Dimples.

He is really cute when he gets excited

They help me understand myself and the world around me better

The way your beard matches and emphasizes your eyes.

I sleep really well when I'm with you. Best sleep ever.