#but really you have to stop acting like the helpless victim and let fear rule you

[wonderwomemes]

it rubs me the wrong way how many times over the last few days i saw people in the notes of posts about the UK protests say how they wish they could do something but they are not a big white cis dude so they don't go to protests.

listen i'm a 155cm short white blondie with a baby face and this has not stopped me for getting right in several peoples faces to tell them off or to put myself between me and whoever they had beef with.

a nazi will hesitate for maybe 2 seconds before punching a big strong man and the bystanders will think ''that's a fair fight let's keep our distance''

but i noticed several times that in the time they process that a small woman telling them to fuck off, people around will suddenly show up for back up. it's like getting them out of their paralysis when they see someone physically smaller entering the stage.

i have never been seriously physically attacked but to be 100% honest with you if a nazifucker ever punches me i will win in any case because that shithead is getting sued for assault.

stop being scared of them. that's what they are betting on.

If you can't physically fight them, don't start a physical attack. but please, you have to DO something.

[its-monster-mash]

This has been sitting in my drafts for 1000 years oops Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

Thank you so much for tagging me @venus-haze!! I am also excited to participate in the self-callout lol

I don’t actually have a “WIP Folder”, I just have. A lot of WIPs. About to expose myself on a lot of different fandoms lol(I have a million different sideblogs that I organize a lot of the things I like by)

• Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You Not to Talk to Strangers? — Bo Sinclair x Reader (House of Wax) *I am also converting this one to an "Original" piece so I can publish it as a serial, so if you see the other version on Amazon under the pen name "M.E. Roselli" that's me. I'm still going to keep writing it as this fanfic, but there IS an alternate version. The other version is about a cult instead of Wax; instead of Vincent, Bo("Buck" in the alternate version) has a twin sister who was raised to be the cult's messiah. The cult is dead and gone along with their parents, but she's still living it. I just know that a lot of people's fanfics are being stolen, so I wanted to clear up that that is NOT the case with mine.

• Holmes and Dracula VS. Jack the Ripper — Original Work (Sherlock Holmes and Dracula team up to stop Jack the Ripper from bringing about the Apocalypse)

• Tides of Lust — Original Work (Meliora, a traveling bard with demonic blood, goes on a pirate adventure with a feared disciple of Davy Jones and also meets a Vampiric Warlord)

• What The Dead Men Say — Original Work (Ivar Ragnarsson ends up in Victorian England, where he has little choice but to team up with an archeologist; was technically an ACV fic originally, but I hate the ISU stuff and refuse to include it so really it’s just a history fic tbh)

• Playing House with Private X — Original Work (A cryogenically frozen super soldier navigates the modern world with the help of a would-be super soldier who slipped through the cracks. Very slice of life; it started as a Soldier Boy fic—American Pie, but I scrubbed it of IP so I can continue it as an original work and publish it as erotic shorts)

• ‘Til Death Do Us Part — Original Work (Would-be Murder victim Judith “Jude” Carpenter tries to start a new life in a small town…where her would have been killer has taken up residence as the priest. The two must work together to survive the town’s dark secret.)

• Careful What you Wish For — Original Work (Janie, a serial killer hitchhiking to avoid capture, ends up being held prisoner by Levi, a recluse out in the middle of nowhere, and she pretends to be a helpless victim in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. The story focuses on her disturbing inner monologue through her act.)

• Lord of Roses, Master of Thorns — Original Work (Ancient Vampiric King Alistair Val Mirron must fall in love to end his curse of immortality; Myrinthe, an odd Peasant introduced to him by and old flame, seeks to remain in the castle at all costs to avoid being forced to marry the annoying rich boy in town.)

• Taken From the Ren Faire — Original Work (This was meant to be a cheesy erotica short but I accidentally gave it a plot. Oops. Fantasy Author Vera Fox is spirited away into a fantasy world after drinking some strange mead from an interesting new vendor. She ends up in a fake relationship with a former bandit while he tries to help get her home; when they get separated, she questions if she even wants to go back to her old life, and this is only compounded when she finds her Ren Faire lover is trapped there too. This one is full of tropes because I'll be honest, I'm "Writing to Market" here, but I love the characters anyway. Owen-her Ren Faire lover- has a huge Clydesdale named Stormbreaker that he rescued from a roadside medieval themed attraction, and I love him.)

• A Marriage of Inconvenience — Homelander x Reader (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• Woven Sagas — Eivor Wolfkissed x Ivar Ragnarsson (Assassin’s Creed Valhalla)

• Mother — Skyrim Fic about my Dragonborn raising Aventus

• Critical Darling — Homelander x OC(Darcy Hayes, Dreamweaver) (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• In All My Dreams I Drown — Reaver x Sparrow (Fable 2)

Tags: I am abysmal at remembering URLs off the top of my head, but I will try. @sketchy-rosewitch @visceravalentines @rottent33th @ventiswampwater

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

His children

(How did Davarax end up with his troubled children?)

“Davarax. A word.”

Slightly surprised, Davarax glances over as Mardsk walks towards him. The guy is one of the Teachers, one who rarely spoke to the Fighting Corps. Sure, Davarax had been a Teacher once too but that was years ago and most just consider him a Fighter now.

“What can I help you with, ner vod?” Davarax asks, curious.

Mardsk comes to a halt in front of him, seems to struggle for words and gives a big sigh before he just jumps into it. “Paz Vizla.”

Davarax frowns. The heir to the Vizla clan, he's seen the young boy around and knows he will one day be a valuable member of the Fighting Corps, judging by his size and love for battle. “What about him?”

“He's a problem.” Mardsk blurts out. “The boy is a bully. He keeps picking on my Spring Class, beats them up and terrifies them.”

Davarax' frown deepens and he crosses his arms thoughtfully. “Wait. Your Spring Class? Aren't they, what, three or four years older than him?”

“Yeah, so?” Mardsk replies with a slight edge to his voice. “The boy is a bully nonetheless. He's disruptive and constantly challenging my authority, thinking he's above the rules because he's a Vizla.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Davarax does not like where this is going.

“You train him.” Mardsk plows on. “You have experience with difficult kids and you know she would approve of us keeping the Vizla clan quiet.”

Not liking Mardsk using his connection to her one bit, Davarax still doesn't reject the request right away. He's always had a weakness for the outcasts. “Let me talk to him...”

And true to his word, later that day, Davarax hunts down the kid. He finds him sitting in one of the study rooms, reading on one of the datapads there.

Paz Vizla is big, Davarax has no trouble seeing how he can take on and defeat children years older than himself, but there is nothing menacing about the young boy right now. He is devouring the information on the datapad, which a quick peek reveals to be Mandalorian history. Interesting.

“Hey.” Davarax gets his attention. “You know who I am?”

Paz looks up at him, slightly curious but completely self-assured. “Yeah. You're Davarax. You're-”

Davarax nods. “That's me. Pleased to meet you, Paz Vizla.”

Now Paz frowns and he sits up a little straighter. “What do you want?” There is a challenge in his words as well as in the insolent stare. He is his father's son, alright.

“I wanted to meet you.” Davarax sits on the desk next to him. “Because they want me to train you.”

“Figures.” Paz scoffs with obvious contempt. “Mardsk is a coward.”

Amused, Davarax tilts his head and scans the kid's body language. It's a wonderful mess of arrogance and insecurity. He's angry, but also clearly hurt by Mardsk's action. Not completely corrupted by his father, then. Good. “He just knows when he's out of his league. That's not a bad thing, ad'ika. It can save your life outside the Covert.” Davarax sees the youngster wobbling between the lingering hurt and the inferred compliment. “So, would you be okay with that? Me training you?”

Paz looks at him, scans him in return and leans back in his chair. “Why would you want to do that? You're on the Fighting Corps. You don't do teacher stuff anymore.”

Davarax shrugs. “I might make an exception for you.”

“For me? Why? Because I'm a Vizla?” Paz drawls, suspicious.

“No.” Davarax says. “Because I think you have a lot of potential and you will do great things for the Covert. I also think that maybe you need someone who understands you a little better to help that happen.”

Paz shifts uneasily on his chair, his gaze flickers and ruins his pretend arrogance. He swallows and makes himself meet Davarax' gaze. “And that's you?”

“That's me.”

“And who is to say you won't just hand me off to some other teacher?”

Davarax shakes his head. “I won't do that.” His words are calm and secure, no doubt whatsoever.

Paz considers it, then turns back to the datapad and shrugs. “Fine. Sure. Whatever.”

And just like that, Davarax had the first of what would be known as the Fearsome Four.

It takes a long time for him to gain Paz' trust and respect, but with a calm and steady approach, not responding to Paz' tantrums but rather making him use his words; the boy's energy is eventually channeled where it is meant to go.

It doesn't mean Paz stops getting into fights, not by a long shot, but now he at least goes after the ones capable of defending themselves and guilty of some kind of offense, and not just some random victim that crosses Paz' path.

Then comes the morning when Davarax hears a knock on the door to his quarters, opens it and finds another teacher standing there with a tight grip on a tiny, skinny boy's neck.

The boy stares sullenly at the floor, curly hair poking up at all angles, the neckline of his shirt pulled a little to the side and showing a prominent collarbone due to his skinniness. His tiny hands are clenched into tight fists. That is how Davarax meets Barthor.

Unlike Paz, Barthor doesn't show much emotion at being 'handed off' to a new teacher, but those eyes speak volumes. He is furious and filled with spite. Being small and skinny in a society that values strength and fighting abilities can't be easy, but he's been getting back at them in inventive and sometimes fire hazardous ways. Davarax could smell the stench of singed hair through his air filter when the teacher had appeared on his doorstep with the little culprit.

Barthor had pulled one stunt after another,a proper troublemaker, but what Davarax admires is the fact that they were never able to prove it was him. Not once. That speaks of intelligence. So he agrees to train him as well.

Where Paz uses anger and brute strength to intimidate, Barthor immediately tries to sneak his way into Davarax' brain and heart, mapping Davarax' mind to manipulate him while trying to act small and helpless to appeal to his protective instinct. Sneaky little thing. He's going to go far in life.

It turns out that once Barthor realizes that Davarax doesn't fall for his tricks, but treats him with respect and actually talks to him and not over him, the little one thaws and becomes his shadow.

It's kind of cute, really.

Paz isn't pleased at first, but decides the runt isn't a threat or a challenge so he ends up mostly ignoring Barthor, who keeps a wary distance in return. They focus on Davarax, not each other.

“Please...” A third teacher pleads some time later. He holds out his arm and pulls up the fabric and shows the painful mark there. “She bit me! I pulled her off a kid she was pummeling and she bit me. She held on for so long I considered prying her jaws open with a stick!” The man lowers his arm and shakes his head. “You gotta help me, Dav. Please!”

Now this one Davarax asks for some time to consider. He has heard a lot about Raga Saxon, have seen her in action, and she might be the one child he's not entirely sure he can help. He has no idea how to deal with that kind of volatile temper. There is fearless and then there is reckless.

Somehow Paz finds out that Raga's teacher has asked to move her to Davarax and the boy instantly starts to hassle him to say yes.

“She's awesome. She really is! You gotta see her fight.” Paz pleads, walking next to Davarax.

“I have seen that very thing. That is what worries me.” Davarax mutters. “There is no discipline to her. She's basically feral, Paz.”

“I know!” Paz' grin is the brightest Davarax has even seen on the boy. “As I said, she's awesome. You got to let her join us. I'll look after her, I promise. You won't even notice she's there. Please?”

Paz rarely asks for anything so Davarax promises him he'll think about it. And the next day, he stays hidden and watches Raga. He sees the energy crackling under her skin, the wild hair and her complete lack of fear. It's the kind of personality that can ruin a mission and get other Mandalorians killed, but then he sees her with Paz and observes, to his surprise, the other side to her. She 'is' capable of team work, she can be still and patient, and for some weird reason it seems like Paz is the one who brings that out in her.

Fine. She deserves a chance as well. She's a tough little fighter, like a Mandalorian should be. They just need to work on her mean streak.

Bringing Raga in changes the dynamics as she instantly goes after Barthor, like a predator sensing prey. Davarax hopes that Paz will put an end to it, but no such luck. The bigger boy just chews on his snacks and watches with lazy amusement. Davarax is on the verge of interfering when Barthor strikes back.

Raga's shrieks of fury echoes through the hallways, Barthor runs for his life, while Paz chews his snacks with lazy amusement, and Davarax struggles not to laugh. Yeah, Barthor is going to be fine. He doesn't need help.

It is almost a year later when he opens a hatch and finds a frightened boy staring up at him. His name is Din.

Davarax reaches out a hand, Din takes it.

When the request comes if Davarax can train Din too, there is a lack of teachers and Din is severely affected by the trauma he's been through, Davarax doesn't hesitate. He found the boy, he feels responsible for him.

And against all odds, Din is the glue that makes them all stick together.

Paz' protective instinct is triggered hard, Raga senses Paz' approval and actually behaves for long enough to realize she likes Din, and Barthor is so happy to no longer be the lone one against the other two that he reaches out a hand in friendship as well. And Din finds safety from his nightmares in their presence.

It shouldn't work. Not at all. But it does.

He even finds them, more than once, sleeping in a pile together.

And as they learn, as they grow, they keep amazing him and there's not a single day that goes by where he doesn't feel proud of them. They are difficult, yes, complicated, definitely, but they are good students and will do good things for the Covert, he knows this.

The others start referring to them as the Fearsome Four, but Davarax calls them his children and he knows in his heart that he will love them until the day he dies.

[purple-stuck]

Hi It's me again! I hope my excessive rambling in the tags wasn't too annoying I just really loved that drabble you wrote

If it's not too much can I request something with Sollux and Gamzee meeting in the subjugglator training ranks after Ascension?

I'd really love to hear what your headcanons might be or what fics you take inspiration from about subjugglators off-planet

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Gamzee's breath was perfectly steady, his heartbeat perfectly level, his mind completely calm. Even as he hopped from platform to platform, moving at speeds imperceivable to the naked eye, his body remained impossibly calm. Such was the Messiahs' gift to him and all purplebloods like him. With training, they could command their body to do the impossible.

Gamzee stopped atop a thin pole, claws digging into his perch as he got his barings. A sea of bloodied spikes spread out around him, ensuring him a slow death should he miss even a single pole or platform. But beyond that, lie his goal. His target. The horned outline of which was a mere speck in his vision.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Gamzee felt the wood begin to give way beneath his weight and lept to another perch, hoping between poles and bouncing away before the could bend against him. Thoughtlessly, he reasoned out the closest platform in between leaps. Automatically, he twisted his body to reach them. His body twisted in ways that crack and snap the bones of any other caste. If the graveyard full of mangled bones below him was any indication, even other purples struggled to make such moves.

Soon, Gamzee's shadow was cast over his prey. A club appeared in his hand, upraised so as to crack open his target's skull in one swing.

For the first time since this lesson began, his breath hitched.

Gamzee's feet hit the ground, his momentum stopped dead. His club hung over his target's shoulder.

Breathe. In.

Breathe. Out.

At this distance, Gamzee could see that his target wasn't even a troll at all. Rather, he'd been tasked with assassinating a mannequin, a hard plastic replica of his would be victim. Gamzee felt his posture relax before he pulled his club back and cracked the target's head of with one swing.

Purple paint sprayed over Gamzee as the body hit the floor and he turned to his audience and bowed.

The audience cheered as the lights flashed on, a cacophony of honks, whoops, and cheers as the stage was revealed in full. If he bothered to look towards the pit, Gamzee could see all the remains of the clowns who came before him and failed. He did not look.

"well, would you look at that."

"HE ACTUALLY MANAGED TO PASS."

Two ropes descended down around him, carrying the Twin Instructors, clad in their iconic matching masks. Comedy's voice was sing song, contrasting Tragedy's melancholy just as their half masks contrasted their mood. Gamzee looked up to see half of Tragedy's face grinning down at him.

"still, you haven't quite managed to beat our record."

"MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE HIM GO AGAIN."

The two broke into giggles, with the rest of the tent following. Gamzee heard a few voices call out for an encore and quietly hoped they wouldn't be heard. He didn't have it in him to go another round. He didn't know how Sollux did it so easily, controlling his body they way he did.

Tragedy leaned down and gave him an encouraging pat on the back, causing Gamzee to grin at him tiredly in between pants. Comedy leaned down to his other side, handing him a faygo and a rag.

"OH, BUT HE'S SO WORN OUT. WE WOULDN'T WANT TO BREAK OUR NEW FAVORITE."

"we'd love to share notes, but this isn't your show anymore. head to the lounge, it's time for the next act."

Gamzee chugged the bottle, nearly emptying it in two gulps as he walked off stage. He waved his thanks, to tired to talk, as he shoved his way through the curtains and into the lounge.

Gamzee finished his faygo as he lazily scanned the room. Normally, throwing a bunch of clowns into one room would be a recipe for disaster, but all was strangely quiet. It seemed like the others who passed the test were just as warn out from it as he was. It made him feel better to see his brothers and sisters laying around exhausted, half collapsed against walls or the couch. It made him proud to still be standing.

And then he saw Sollux, looking none the worse for wear as he hogged the couch. He smirked smugly as Gamzee made his way over, scooting over to let the shorter clown collapse next to him. "Jegus, you look like shit."

Gamzee flipped him off, causing Sollux to snort. "And you're acting like shit too. Maybe I'm a bad influence on you."

Gamzee snorted. "Shit man, I thought you didn't want me to be so friendly and clingy around you anymore." He wiped the sweat off his forehead, stopping to look at the facepaint that had melted onto his hand. "Although, a brother's got a point about. I ain't much to look at right now."

Sollux slid his half empty faygo down the table, which Gamzee guzzled happily. "Yeah, body control is hard. I've been doing it ever sense I grew hands and I still eat my swords sometimes. Nevermind the more advanced stuff."

Gamzee slammed the faygo bottle on the table. "Shit, man, my bones hurt. And my veins... and lungs. Fuck."

Sollux grunted and handed him a spare Nintendie Dualscream. "How about something to take your mind of it? It's been awhile sense I kicked your ass in Fiduspawn anyways."

It was Gamzee's turn to snort. "All right, you are on, motherfucker."

~

They were eight rounds in when the new clowns stopped coming in. Gamzee counted only five had made it in after him, but he was more focused on beating Sollux than keeping count. Either he'd gotten better or Sollux had gotten worse. The taller troll used to be able to kick his ass, now they were tied four to four. But, their fifth round was interrupted as two familar shadows were cast over them.

"DID YOU TWO BRING TOYS FROM BACK ON ALTERNIA ALONG?"

"just between the four of us, I've heard that's against the rules."

Gamzee and Sollux froze as the Twin Instructors leaned over them. Even Gamzee could feel everyone in the room staring at them. Gamzee had seen this set up before. Comedy and Tragedy learing over a helpless troll or two. Acting like they were just disappointed, like they were just going to give the rule breaker a stern talking to before they decapitated the mischief maker.

Instead, the twins doubled over into a giggling fit the spread through the room. The trolls around them joined in, some more nervously than others.

"JuSt KiDdInG!"

"WE KNOW OUR HIGHEST SCORERS..."

"....know better than to break the rules."

"AsSuMiNg YoU dId'T cHeAt!"

Sollux and Gamzee pushed themselves to their feet, hands moving to ask about their progress, but the duo pushed their hands aside.

"DON'T BOTHER WITH THAT."

"you're subjugulators now."

"YoU'rE oFfIcIaLlY fUnNy EnOuGh To LiStEn To!"

Gamzee let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He heard Sollux do the same before the cheers erupted around them. Tragedy grabbed his arm and hoisted him into the air with it to bare before the crowd, leaving him and Sollux to gaze at their audience.

"GIVE OUR BOYS A ROUND OF APPLAUSE."

"well, those of you who still have hands anyways."

Gamzee looked over at Sollux, himself being held up for all to see by comedy. It was strange to see Sollux actually look nervous, even if they were seemingly in the Twin's good graces. Sweeps of living according to their capricious whims was enough to instill a lasting fear in anyone.

Even when granted verbal permission to speak, the two didn't make a peep as the twins hefted them over their shoulders. The twins cheerfully waved off the crowd as they carried the two ascendants to their office.

Gamzee grunted as he was dropped into a chair to small for him, hearing Sollux swear off to the right as the same happened to him. Comedy and Tragedy flopped into their chairs on the opposite end of the desk, kicking their feet up on it.

"normally, we'd take the time to talk about boring business shit with you."

"PREP YOUR ASCENSION SPEECH AND ALL THAT BLAH BLAH BLAH."

"BuT lIkE wE sAiD, wE hAvE nOtEs."

Sollux and Gamzee shared a nervous look, before Sollux straightened up and spoke. "What, uh, about exactly?"

Comedy shook a chidding finger in their faces.

"WHY, YOU BOTH HESITATED."

"tripped at the finish line."

"DeRaIlEd A pErFeCtLy GoOd ShOw."

Gamzee looked over at Sollux in suprise. Sollux... hesitated? But he was used to killing shit. Hell, that was his idea of a date night. Gamzee hardly had time to consider it before Tragedy leaned in his direction.

"now you we perfectly understand. you've never dabbled with fresh paint before."

"YOU'VE ONLY BEEN OFF THE SLIME FOR JUST THREE SWEEPS AT THAT."

"BuT iT's YoUr BuDdY wE'rE cUrIoUs AbOuT."

They both turned to Sollux expectantly. He scratched the back of hia head. "I... well. Something made me reconsider." He rested his hands in his head. "There was.... a kill I'd been planning for a really long time. Something... big. Special. And, when I landed that kill, when I did kill her and savor killing her... it just felt empty?"

Gamzee knew what he meant. The image of a cart drenched in Cerulean blood flashes in his mind. "I'd... rather not get any more into it than that."

The Twins tented their hands as they nodded sympathetically. Comedy even reached over to pat him on the shoulder.

"oh, we've both been there before."

"I DID ESPECIALLY."

Tragedy bent down and fished around beneath the desk, nearly banging his golden mask on it in the process.

"I STILL REMEMBER MY FIRST KILL."

He placed a white horned skull on the desk, carefully preserved and cleaned even though it seemed to have been centuries old. Still, the more Gamzee looked at it, the more it looked slightly off. The horns seemed to be... fake somehow. Like they were made of some kind of old plastic. And the skull's facial structure was all wrong. Too thin, too light, too delicate looking. It looked like a troll but not quite. If Karkat were here, he'd call it a mockery of troll kind.

"you'd think he'd be honored."

"MY VERY FIRST KILL. SHE WAS SO CLEVER AND BRUTAL THAT I NEVER THOUGHT I'D PULL IT OFF."

He rubbed the skull fondly, clearly nostalgic. Part of him sounded almost remorseful over it too, strangely enough. Like talking about a long dead friend or a beloved canceled show.

"BuT iT fElT sO eMpTy."

Sollux cleared his throat, clearly annoyed, even if he couldn't outright say it. Gamzee couldn't blame him. The twins liked to talk about their first two kills a lot. "So, what's your point?"

Tragedy sighed wistfully and Comedy playfully roled her eyes and elbowed him to get him back on topic.

"THE POINT IS, I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO IT."

"and when it's over, it always feels...."

"AnTiClImAcTiC."

Sollux hummed and considered this, but Gamzee could tell he wasn't quite buying it. Gamzee could tell that something else was needling away at him. Something deeper than just that.

"you'll probably get that feeling too."

Gamzee straightened up as he realized they were addressing him again.

"HERE'S A TIP. DON'T LOOK INTO THEIR EYES. IT'LL ONLY MAKE YOU MISS THEM MORE."

Comedy slid two communicators across the desk.

"YOU CAN TALK IT OUT WITH YOU QUADS, NOW THAT YOU'RE ALLOWED TO SEE THEM AGAIN. YOUR BRONZE HEART AND RUST DIAMOND PROBABLY MISS YOU."

They nodded at Sollux.

"and the Empress will be happy to see her favorite clown is safe."

[chameleonwritess]

Never Been Kissed

Series: Sanders Sides

Pairing: Moceit (Janus/Patton) (minor Logince)

“I dare you to kiss Patton,” Roman grinned.

“Truth,” Janus changed his mind.

“Do you want to kiss Patton?”

“Pass,” Janus spluttered.

“The game doesn’t work like that,” Virgil pointed out, unhelpfully.

Words: 2923

Read on AO3

It had started with a stupid truth or dare game. Janus was having a legitimate breakdown over a game of truth or dare. Curse the fateful day that the other sides had begun to accept him.

If it weren’t for the fear of being stuck with the company of Remus and only Remus again for eternity, Janus would leave them.

Only, he wouldn’t really, because even despite being the cause of Janus’s current predicament (although it could also be blamed on Roman), he’d never leave Patton. Not now. Not ever, if he had anything to say about it.

Patton, who smiled as brightly as the sun when Janus walked into a room. Patton, who laughed softly when Janus messed up baking cookies and smeared cookie dough on the end of his nose. Patton, who understood what it was like to feel alone, helpless, unwanted and unimportant. Patton, who, despite Janus’s best efforts, had captured his heart.

And now Patton was not only going to figure out that Janus was completely smitten with the bespectacled side, but also realise how pathetically inexperienced at loving another person he was, removing any infinitesimal chance there even was of Patton liking him back. All thanks to a game of truth or dare.

Patton had invited him to join in the game. Janus knew the basics of how to play, thanks to Remus frequently insisting that Janus, Virgil and he play it once upon a time. Still, he was quite sure the version of the game the other sides played would include a lot less biting and a lot less blood than Remus’s version.

The game had started innocently enough. Roman had insisted that they spin a bottle to choose the next player, avoiding any biases in selecting a victim. Janus agreed that it did seem the most efficient solution. The game began with some silly confessions about embarrassing secrets, favourite songs and guilty pleasures.

Of course Roman would be the one to change it up. Logan’s dare for the creative side had resulted in him feeling particularly elated after managing to fit seventeen spoonfuls of Crofter’s in his mouth before he had to swallow and he spun the bottle with enthusiasm, practically causing it to fly directly into Janus’s lap. Roman laughed loudly.

“Looks like it’s chosen you, Janus! Truth or dare?” he asked. Janus had considered the options. Knowing Roman, his dares would likely have Janus doing something ridiculously embarrassing (Virgil was still sporting faint remnants of red lipstick, despite his vehement attempts to remove it, and Patton still looked as though he was feeling sick from the many marshmallows he’d had to shove in his mouth).

Deciding he’d take a gamble that Roman’s truths were slightly more pleasantly… creative… than his dares, Janus replied.

“Truth,” he decided. Regret immediately followed at the wicked smile that flashed across the Prince’s face.

“If you had to kiss one of the sides, who would it be and why?” he asked.

As the embodiment of Deceit, Janus should not have found himself as panicked at the prospect of having to lie his way out. After all, he could hardly open his mouth and declare,

‘Patton, because I’ve been hopelessly in love with him since the very first time he smiled at me.’

“Inventive,” Janus muttered sarcastically to Roman, stalling for time if anything.

“Oh, come on, surely you don’t have to think that hard about it,” Roman complained as the others looked intently at Janus for an answer. He deliberately avoided Patton’s gaze. There was only one way he could answer without admitting every feeling he had tried (and subsequently failed) so hard to suppress.

“There’s only one obvious answer,” Janus started, clearly piquing the others’ interest, “Virgil still has lipstick on his mouth so it’s an automatic no. Logan looks as though he wouldn’t know how to kiss if he read an in-depth instruction pamphlet. Roman, you probably use too much tongue and that’s definitely appealing and Remus would bite me. That only leaves one option.”

Janus paused to look at the others. Virgil looked indifferent, Logan was trying very hard not to seem offended, Roman was failing at not looking offended and Patton… Janus drew in a sharp breath. Patton’s eyes were practically sparkling as he looked at Janus.

“That was a biased answer,” Roman huffed, clearly still salty, but Janus was relieved for the distraction, “I don’t use too much tongue!”

“You do every time you open your mouth,” Virgil protested.

“Besides, Logan can ki- I- nevermind,” Roman cut himself off, flushing distinctly redder. Janus raised his eyebrows and looked between the logical and creative side. Logan’s cheeks were dusted a darker shade than normal, too. Of all the confessions Janus had anticipated coming from this game, that was certainly not one of them.

“What?” Virgil blinked.

“Janus,” Logan interrupted, slightly louder than necessary, “it’s your turn to spin the bottle.”

“Of course,” Janus said, flickering his gaze back across to Patton, who was still glancing at him with a small smile. Janus snapped his eyes away again, quickly, spinning the bottle, instead.

“Logan, truth or dare?” Janus asked when the bottle stopped.

“Dare,” Logan wisely insisted.

The game continued for a few more rounds and Janus had practically forgotten about his previous predicament. He suffered through a couple of dares and another truth until, fatefully, Roman’s spin landed on him once again.

“Truth or dare?” Roman asked, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Janus had learnt his lesson, this time.

“Dare,” he decided.

“I dare you to kiss Patton,” Roman grinned.

“Truth,” Janus changed his mind.

“Do you want to kiss Patton?”

“Pass,” Janus spluttered.

“The game doesn’t work like that,” Virgil pointed out, unhelpfully.

“I- uh-“ Janus foraged for words he could usually weave together so effortlessly. What was he supposed to do? Kiss Patton and pretend it meant nothing to him? Not kiss Patton and have to explain that it meant too much to him? Explain that he’d never kissed anyone and he refused to let his first kiss be in a truth or dare game?

“You don’t have to, Janus,” Patton’s soft voice said from next to him and a hand landed on his leg. Janus jumped at the contact and Patton retracted his hand quickly. Janus wished he hadn’t- he’d just been surprised at the contact.

“I mean, it’s the rules, so he kind of does,” Roman pointed out, examining his nails for no particular reason.

Patton was looking at Janus with the same soft, understanding smile as always. Janus wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss him, but he couldn’t. Not in front of all the others. Not when he didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

“I- I can��t,” Janus finally spluttered out.

“That’s okay. It’s not a problem,” Patton insisted, but his smile wavered slightly. Janus panicked. Patton had thought Janus didn’t want to kiss him- that he couldn’t bring himself to do it, even for a dare.

“It’s not about you, Patton,” Janus insisted, quickly- quicker than he had meant to, “you’re wonderful, it’s just that I- I don’t- I-“ Janus’s breaths were getting faster as he looked around the room at all of the others. What had he just said in front of them all? What was he about to admit?

“I have to go,” Janus said abruptly and he immediately sunk out of the room.

And that’s how Janus found himself inside his room, his back pressed against the wall, breathing heavily and trying not to cry or have a panic attack.

How pathetic had he become? He couldn’t even complete a dare as trivial as giving someone a quick kiss. Admittedly, that ‘someone’ just happened to be the side he’d fallen in love with, but it didn’t require almost revealing his true feelings to all the others and having to physically leave the room for fear of breaking down.

Janus groaned in frustration and threw his hat across the room, more for dramatic effect than anything. Now Patton was going to think he was repulsed by him or something when it was the literal opposite, but if Janus revealed that, Patton would just be repulsed by him. There was seemingly no way out of the situation in which he didn’t lose Patton. Maybe he was destined for a lifetime of Remus, after all.

A knock at the door snapped Janus out of his self-pitying and caused him to wonder exactly how long he’d been dramatically sliding down the wall onto the floor for.

“Jan? Are you in there?” Patton’s gentle voice called out. Janus’s breath caught in his throat. He glanced in the mirror on his wall quickly, noting that his eyes were still red, the human half of his face was flushed and blotchy and his hair was sticking up slightly. He looked a mess but he couldn’t ignore Patton. Not if the other side wasn’t avoiding him as he’d feared only mere minutes ago.

Janus flattened his hair down, desperately and opened the door, trying to look as blasé as possible. Considering acting was one of his greatest skills, he was doing a notably abysmal job.

“Patton. Hello,” Janus said in an awkward, stilted way.

“Hi,” Patton said, breathlessly, “are you okay? I didn’t want to come straight away in case you needed some time but I didn’t want to leave you by yourself for too long if you weren’t alright. I hope that’s okay.”

Janus nodded.

“Yes, I’m great. Fantastic, even. Please don’t be worried about me,” he lied. Patton raised an eyebrow.

“You tell me off for repressing my negative emotions. I can tell you’ve been crying. And of course, I’m going to be worried about you, silly!” he insisted. Janus blushed a little. He was suddenly relieved that his face was already red.

“I really am okay,” Janus said more earnestly, “I’m sorry about what happened at the game. I just got… flustered.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Patton insisted, “Roman shouldn’t have pushed you to do something you didn’t want to do. He knows that, now, and no one else has a problem that you didn’t want to do a silly dare!”

“But that’s not true!” Janus blurted out before he could stop himself. Patton’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“How do you mean?” he asked.

“Never mind,” Janus shook his head, desperately wishing he hadn’t said anything. If he just ended the conversation now, maybe things could go back to normal between him and Patton. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.

“Hey, Janus,” Patton protested gently and as Janus tried to turn around to walk back into his room, a hand encircled his wrist, causing a shock of warmth to jolt through Janus’s body. He immediately froze at the touch. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Patton continued.

Janus closed his eyes and nodded, slowly turning around to face Patton again.

“Is this still about the game or is it something else?” Patton asked, taking both of Janus’s gloved hands in his own now that Janus was facing him again. His touch sent shots of electricity through Janus’s arms. Patton was so free with his touches. Janus wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to it, but he wasn’t complaining.

“It’s just the game,” Janus huffed, “how stupid is that?”

“It’s not stupid at all!” Patton insisted and he took a step closer to Janus, his hand reaching up to touch the scaled side of Janus’s face, “do you want to tell me what it was that was the problem. I can tell the others not to do it again and I promise I won’t be offended,” he added with a giggle.

Janus released a shaky breath, both from the effect Patton's closeness was having on his heart and from the nervousness of what he was about to admit.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” Janus muttered, barely audible. Patton heard, though, if the soft gasp he gave was anything to go by.

“There’s nothing wrong with that! You don’t need to feel embarrassed about it. You know, I’ve never actually kissed anyone, either,” Patton admitted, “and I don’t think I’d want my first kiss to be because someone dared me to kiss a random guy in front of everyone else.”

“Oh,” Janus muttered. He hadn’t considered that Patton might never have kissed anyone. He was just so likeable that Janus had assumed one of the other sides must have wanted to kiss him at some point.

“I won’t tell the others if you don’t want, though,” Patton promised, “it can be our little secret.”

Janus nodded as Patton smiled at him. Why was he still feeling so agitated? Patton wasn’t mad at him, he’d explained why he hadn’t kissed Patton in the game and he hadn’t been forced to admit his true feelings for Patton. He should be feeling calm again.

Apparently, his discomfort was still visible, as Patton’s face contorted into a frown.

“Are you sure that’s it? You still look worried. You know I won’t leave until you’re smiling again,” Patton insisted. Janus cracked a small smile at his insistence, but it wasn’t the genuine smile Patton was referring to. Those smiles were only reserved for Patton, anyway.

“Really, everything is okay now. I’m sorry for freaking out and I’m sorry if Roman’s dare made you uncomfortable. It did include you, too, after all. And I’m sorry if the truth I answered earlier made you uncomfortable, too,” Janus began to say, wondering where all these apologies were suddenly streaming from. He suspected his and Patton’s still adjoined hands had something to do with it. “I’d never want to make you uncomfortable but I probably did. I should have lied instead of trying to be honest. I’m the literal embodiment of Denial.”

“Woah, Janus, slow down, you have no reason to be sorry! I wasn't uncomfortable at all- with anything!” Patton pleaded, his eyes wide. Janus looked at him anxiously. He had not meant to pour out quite that much of his heart. There was something about being with Patton that made him want to be more vulnerable.

“You weren’t?” Janus confirmed. Patton nodded and smiled brightly before a tinge of red crossed his cheeks and he broke eye contact.

“I, uh,” he began, “I really wouldn’t mind if you did want to kiss me.”

Janus’s eyes flew wide with shock. Was Patton implying that he’d be happy for Janus to kiss him?

“But I know you only chose me because you’re not as comfortable around the others! And you were forced to choose for the game, anyway, so I’m not saying you have to, but-“ Patton started to continue, his face growing gradually redder as he did. He looked positively adorable and Janus didn’t think he’d ever been more attracted to the moral side.

“I do want to kiss you,” Janus blurted out, his face darkening at his sudden confession. Patton looked up again, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape. “I have for quite a while, actually,” Janus continued because if he was going to confess, he might as well go all the way with his honesty, “ever since you accepted me into the group. You just smiled at me and it made my heart flip and I tried so hard not to fall for you, but my heart clearly had a different idea, because here I-“

Janus’s words were stopped when two hands planted themselves on either side of his face. Patton’s face was right in front of his and he was smiling, fondly, his eyes sparkling. Janus’s heart thumped loudly in his chest.

“Patton-“ Janus sighed and then he was kissing him.

Even the simplest press of lips was enough to set Janus’s body on fire and he immediately wanted more. He wrapped his arms around Patton’s torso, pulling the shorter side closer to him. Patton, despite his equal inexperience, certainly seemed to know what he was doing. His mouth was moving languidly against Janus’s and he’d snaked a hand into Janus’s hair.

The soft scrape of Patton’s fingernails against Janus’s hair caused a sort of mewl to escape Janus’s throat. Patton giggled softly against Janus’s lips, and the puffs of air that Janus felt against his mouth made him just want to kiss Patton even more insistently. So he did.

Janus wasn’t quite sure how long they ended up kissing for, but he did know that at the end of it, his hair was most definitely a dishevelled mess, Patton’s glasses were askew, his cardigan discarded from his shoulders, and both of them were grinning like idiots.

“Wow,” Janus mused, unable to form coherent thoughts, “that was-“

“Amazing,” Patton finished for him with a grin. Janus nodded in silent agreement.

“I should have just told you the whole truth before,” he mused. Patton wrapped his arms tightly around Janus’s shoulders, pulling his face close once again.

“You really should have. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out all this time,” Patton sighed against his mouth, leaning in and kissing Janus’ again, “and-“ he added, breaking away briefly, “in case it wasn’t clear, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, too. I really like you, Janus.”

“Good,” Janus smiled, leaning down and pressing their lips together again. He would kiss Patton whenever and wherever he could just to chase the feeling of soft lips against his, gentle hands in his hair and a warm, comforting body right under his hands.

Maybe Janus should thank Roman, after all.

[x688plsloveme]

Day 1 and also 16 Whumptober 2020

Ah here it is. My first whumptober post of the month. The actual prompts are in the tags but that would spoil it. This one was REALLY self-indulgent. Like super super self indulgent. For multiple reasons. Anyways hope whoever reads this likes it!!! xoxo

The first thing Danai feels is the sticky feeling of warm blood trickling down her face as she comes back from the peaceful silence of unconsciousness. She hissed at what obviously was a head wound but was otherwise apathetic. She shakes her head to see how it would make her head feel. “No sharp pain or dizziness. So no major blood loss or concussion.”

This wasn’t an uncommon situation to be in anyways considering she likes to take the  fight close and personal and when she goes to get up. She realizes that it wasn’t a possibility thanks to metal shackles that kept her restrained to what felt like a wooden beam. Now that is not a common occurrence.

There’s a groan to her left from who she assumes is Deacon as he was the last one with her before the ambush. They were traveling back from a mission to help a synth when all of a sudden, dozens of gen 2’s were surrounding them. There was no chance in fighting so they just put their weapons down. One of the bots knocked them out and now she was here. Wherever here was.

The person beside her confirms her guess when she hears Deacon’s voice let out an “Oh-!” Followed by a sharp inhale and a whispered “fuck.” He was definitely seeing something that she both wished she could and couldn’t. She had never heard him be so quiet - even in a dangerous situation. That made it all the more serious and she knew she had to prepare herself, so she steels her nerves and strains her ears to try and get a better sense of her surroundings.

She didn’t have to wait long as the man across the room who was fiddling with his favourite knife and watching her like a hawk notices her waking up.

James smiles and his steel eyes light up in mirth when he sees his rival, Danai, start to stir. He can’t help but feel uncharacteristically giddy at the situation. Her and her…friend tied up and restrained, him holding all the cards, and of course none of the backtalk or fire to be found. Not yet anyway. She wouldn’t be fun without it.

He picked this place specially for her. A location that no one knew about except for his close advisors that has the outwards appearance of yet another run down destroyed house. But go into the cellar and it’s a different story.

A plain basement fitted with nothing except a chair for his princess to rest on and anything anyone would need to extract information out of someone else. But that’s not what he was after. Not today. He had something very special for tonight’s events.

Rubi, who was always seen with her boss, watches in a very characteristically giddy way when she sees her companion’s plan start to form behind his eyes. She looks back and forth between the two rivals, her pink pigtails bouncing as she practically vibrates in her seat in excitement.

The institute operative leaves his victim tied up on the floor and struts over to the two agents. He makes sure every step is loud and precise, ensuring that the woman he was approaching knew exactly where he was.

Said woman knew better than anyone just how quiet he could be when he wanted, so it was unnerving to notice how… perceivable the man was being considering his usual methods of letting his opponent be the last person to know his whereabouts. That meant that either he was being sloppy or he knew her helplessness and no longer saw her as a true danger. Danai could guess which one it was.

She flinches when she hears him come to a stop in front of her. She can’t tell you how she knew, but something in her told her that he was smiling directly at her. He lifted her head with the tip of his knife and they both hardly breath as they still; playing a game that only they knew the rules of.

They ignore Deacon’s attempts at telling him to get away from her until he got a bit too annoying and Rubi spoke up from directly beside Deacon. “Get ya pet to shut up Da~ni. Guess what happens if ya don’t?” She grabs his hair and yanks, her friend yelping at the pain.

Danai sighs, knowing who it is immediately. “It seems that she tagged along as well. Great.”

Her bright attitude was dangerously deceptive and depending on her mood, she would kill faster than it took to say “Look behind you!” Danai couldn’t risk him by ignoring her.

Keeping her gaze fixed on James as best she could with her sightless eyes, she growled at the girl “Touch him again and I will staple your pigtails to your ass sweetheart.” The girl giggles at the venom laced words, happy that she could get under the other’s skin.

“And Deacon? Shut up.” He snapped his mouth shut and nodded out of habit. Satisfied, she pulled away and went to stand next to her boss.

The man whose attention was still fixed on Danai flashed a smile and hummed, pleased that he had won that round, and let her head drop. He could hear giggling from behind him as his second was undoubtedly amused by the resident liar’s stricken expression and Danai’s annoyed face.

He knew she hated losing and it bothers her even more when she loses their little “staring contest” that they always greet each other with. It’s usually something to see who’s the best composed for the day’s meeting. A way of sizing the other up without even speaking a word.

At least her companion was quiet for the moment. He wanted to focus completely on the woman in front of him - wanted to watch her squirm as she figured out what was going to transpire soon.

After removing his knife from her chin, he straightened up and smoothed down any wrinkles that formed on his immaculate crimson button down. He circled the pillar and quietly took in her disheveled appearance, from the blood that had started to dry on her face to her messy orange dreads, and finally her torn up signature leather jacket. He had never seen her so unkempt before, it made him positively delighted.

He stopped in front of her again and with a smirk she could practically hear, started talking. Gloating was probably closer but could you blame him? He doesn’t get many chances to humiliate her with little repercussions.

She hated his voice. The silky smooth timber that fooled far too many people and grated on her nerves at every opportunity. The cocky but even tone that he usually had was replaced with an unusual delight that he so rarely showed around her. That didn’t spell out anything good.

“Danai darling.” The word filled with as much venom as possible. “I so missed you, you should really visit more often, it gets boring without you around.”

An offended “Hey!” Comes from Rubi but all he does is wave her off. “Oh please princess you know how much our friend here entertains me. She’s special.”

The aforementioned can’t help but scoff at this and roll her eyes. “Cut the crap James. What do you want?”

He feigns hurt and places a hand on his chest dramatically, yet still smiles as creepily genuine as ever.

It sends shivers down Deacon’s spine when he sees the odd juxtaposition paired with his dangerous glinting eyes. He wants to say something - a joke, anything - and he would if he couldn’t clearly see the cards they were being dealt.

“Oh darling you wound me.” Ignoring her question he went on. “Of course you’re special, how could you not be? The only survivor of an empty vault and resident goody two shoes that insists on trying to oppose me at every opportunity. You’re the hero of the wastes sweetheart. Act. Like. It.” As he continues on, his smile slowly fades and his voice loses the joyful emotion it had previously before hardening completely at his last word.

She promptly spit in his general direction, hitting his slacks. He frowns disappointingly down at her, giving her a look a parent would when their child misbehaves in a very silly way.

“Now. No need to be childish.” His sentence is accented with a swift kick to her stomach. She immediately feels bruises start to form as she doubles over as best she can and has a coughing fit. Deacon tries to struggle and say something when Rubi catches his eye and playfully points a finger gun at him and makes a shushing motion with her other hand. He gets the message.

James laughs a little. “We still haven’t gotten to the main event after all. But don’t worry, you’ll find out soon.”

He stares pointedly at the railroad agent for the first time, trying to convey silently to him exactly what his plan is. Deacon can guess what is about to happen to the still unconscious woman across the room from them. She was tied in a similar manner that they were, but looked much more beat up. The railroad agent would be embarrassed to say that he may have whimpered in fear thinking about what these psychos could do to her.

Satisfied, James looks back toward his adversary and can’t help but chuckle. Here she is, bound and bloody, entirely helpless with no way to save anyone, and she still glares at him with a ferocity that would terrify lesser men.

Good thing he’s not a lesser man.

As it stands, her anger just fuels his desire to push her buttons more, so he decides it’s time to get the show on the road.

He claps loudly and says, “Alright let’s begin!” and starts to walk across the room. Danai cocks her head in confusion but bites her tongue to prevent from asking any questions.

“Rubi, hand me the water please.”

“Aye-aye cap'n” she says with a salute and hands him a bottle of water that was placed beside the unconscious woman earlier.

The man wastes no time in splashing it in her face, wincing at the ungraceful way she woke up, sputtering and cursing.

“Wha-? Where the fuck am I?” She wastes no time in glaring at her captors.

Danai’s eyes widen and she gasps sharply. That is Glory. They caught her separately and she is in the same situation that they are. Except… Something’s off. Her eyes widen in horrible realization. Glory isn’t near her like Deacon is. That sociopath would never let her die, would never even risk collateral damage from killing someone near her. Anyone close enough to touch was safe that’s why she wasn’t scared for Deek, but Glory was too far and-

“Figured it out have we? Good.” He sneers. “Well there’s no beating around the bush so to speak.” He snaps his fingers at the girl beside him. “Punch this one in the face.”

She obliges gladly, putting her entire weight into it, confident that the muscular woman could take it without passing out again. Her head snaps to the side with a distinct “thump” and both agents yell in protest.

“Let her go-!”

“Don’t touch her-!”

“Ah-ah. None of that. Just sit back and enjoy the show darling.”

Her face twists into scowl. “If you think I’m going to be quiet because you tell me to, you are dumber than I thought.”

He watches her carefully, letting the tension settle on her uncomfortably like a heated blanket on a summer night before speaking again.

“This time, shoot her ear off.” The little maniac actually giggles and does as she was told. The loud bang being drowned out by Glory’s screaming.

Danai was getting frantic at this point. Adrenaline shot through her and she struggles to breath through the panic. Deacon can only scream expletives as his anger rises.

“James don’t - don’t do this. You know how close we are, don’t do this.”

Something unreadable flashes across his face and he makes his way across the room to crouch in front of her again. This time he tilts her face up with his hand, ungloved, some distant part of her mind notices.

“Oh?” He cocks his head, tone still infuriatingly even and calmly says, “Then beg.”

She doesn’t even have to think about it before words are streaming from her mouth, shaky from the extra effort it took not to break down crying. “Please don’t James pl-please don’t kill her I’m sorry I’ll do anything you want just please pleasepleaseplease don’t. I couldn’t bear it you know how much it’ll hurt me.” Tears start streaming down her face at the thought of her friend getting maimed and killed in front of her.

He smiles - so so sweetly - she can hear it in his saccharine voice. “See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He pats her on the head and it takes every ounce of willpower she has to not bite him. “Good job.”

The two agents breath a sigh of relief as he stands up but it was cut short as another shot rang out. Glory’s cursing stopped altogether, the crazed lackey starts laughing, Deacon blanches in horror, and in the middle of it all stands James with his smoking gun now being put back in its holster.

Danai couldn’t say anything. She just stills there and frantically strains her ears but she can’t hear even the laboured breathing of one of her most trusted friends. She looks up at the monster himself and can’t find it in herself to move. Or scream. Or curse. Can’t do anything as her mind tries to process with what just happened.

He enjoys seeing her like this too. Their banter was fun and she is the most entertaining person he’d ever met, but there was something unique about being the one to extinguish her fire in a single moment.

She starts to shake while silent tears steam down her face. He sighs. “She was a such a sight.”

Her friend on the other hand was out right sobbing and calling Glory’s name over and over on the verge of hyperventilating. He grimaced and beckoned for his second to come over.

“Knock the boy out and leave.”

For once, she follows out her orders quietly, sensing her boss’ mood. Danai could only let out a weak yell in protest when she hears the thud of something hitting her friend’s head, but she couldn’t muster up any real bite from it.

The logical part of her brain was trying desperately to keep her from shutting down completely. “He was just knocked out. You can hear his breathing, he’s fine. He’s alive. Focus now on getting you and him out of here. Breathe in. Now out. Again. You’re a bit calmer. You can do this.”

While she was still very much shaking, her voice came out steady. The first thing she says is a spat out “Fuck you,” and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Proposition me again when you’re less disgustingly dirty and tear stained.” He pulls Rubi’s chair over and sits down in it, bringing along with him a syringe filled with a strange liquid. Not that she would know that of course.

“I tell you time and time again to join my side, the winning side, but you always dismiss me.” He shook his head, curls bouncing with the action. “I had to give you a taste of what was in store for you if you kept fighting it. Fighting me.”

She takes a shaky breath. In and out. “Bullshit. This was off limits and you know it. G-Glory,” her voice cracks on the name, “hadn’t messed with any of yours since the truce you had no right!” Her voice starts to rise so he leans down and puts his hand on her face.

“Hush now. You wouldn’t want what happened to her to happen to your little friend here, would you?” That shut her up alright, although the glare and unshed tears were still present. His breath nearly hitches - her anger and battered beauty was stunning. She reminds him of the lions he read about as a child. They were always his favourites next to deathclaws of course.

He keeps his hand on her face and softens his voice in a way that usually got him what he wanted. His last card to play. His final attempt to get her to stay. “I’ll ask you one more time precious. Join me? We would be unstoppable, feared and worshiped. Between the two of us, the world would be ours. What do you say?”

She can’t believe the gall of this man. She was cracked, not broken. There was nothing that would make her betray everything she worked for. To betray Hancock. Her face twists in disgust and she shakes her head until his hand falls from it. She glares up at him, mustering all her loathing and hated for the man sitting in front of her. Her friend’s murderer.

“Go. To. Hell.”

James isn’t surprised per say but it still stung to be rejected by the one person he found interesting. Though he can’t exactly blame her, he still thought she would see reason and endeavor to pick protection over war.

He sighs and pulls away from her but otherwise shows no sign of  displeasure that she could pick up. He grabs the syringe again and flicks the tip a couple of times to get rid of any stray bubbles.

Her glare was firmly in place up until he utters an almost mumbled “What a shame,” and plunges the short needle through the skin of her neck.

The spot flared up with pain but she was out before she could even think about something rude to call him. The last thing she hears before fading was James sighing almost…sadly? She would decipher that if she had more than a few seconds left of consciousness, but as it stood the most she could do was try and struggle for her last few seconds. The man in front of her strokes her face again and his downhearted face was the last thing she sees before passing out, everything fading completely to emptiness.

[cheemers-writing-archive]

Nothing Else Like It: Chapter 4

After a hard battle between Avdol and an enemy, and a new member added to the group, Yorokobi and the others boarded a boat to get to Singapore.

“Why are you two wearing your school uniforms?!” Joseph asked Jotaro and Kakyoin. “Even Yorokobi has on different clothes!”

“We’re students,” Kakyoin replied. “And students should act like students.”

“But then, Yorokobi-”

“I hate the girl’s school uniform,” Yorokobi interrupted. “The teachers let me wear other clothes to school in fear of Jojo beating them up. So, really, this is my school uniform.”

“Hmph! Japanese students are such stiffs,” Joseph chided.

Meanwhile, Kakyoin found himself staring at Yorokobi, who was laying down right beside him. He didn’t really mean to, it was just that Yorokobi’s features were so… interesting. From the way her eyes squinted in the sunlight to the way she stretched, it was intriguing and, well, really cute, if Kakyoin was honest. There was nothing that could take his eyes off of Yorokobi.

Nothing, of course, except for Jotaro’s frightening aura right behind him. Kakyoin could practically feel his eyes glaring at him, like daggers in his back. It sent a violent chill down his spine.

“I-I’m gonna… go to the bathroom,” Kakyoin announced before hurriedly rushing away. When he finally found a place to calm down, he sighed heavily. Great, he thought. So Jotaro’s one of those types.

Regaining his composure, Kakyoin went out again, and this time to a surprise. Even before he was in sight, he could hear shouting and screaming coming from an unknown voice. When he turned the corner, he saw a little boy thrashing in a crew member’s arms.

“A stowaway got on board before we left,” Polnareff told Kakyoin. He nodded in response as the boy bit the crew member’s arm and jumped into the sea.

“Woah, talk about feistiness!” Joseph exclaimed. “He just jumped right in!”

“Will he be alright?” Kakyoin asked.

“He’s fine,” Jotaro replied nonchalantly. “He wouldn’t have jumped in if he wasn’t a confident swimmer.”

“No, this is really bad!” the crew member shuddered. “Those waters are shark-infested!”

“I got it!” Yorokobi cried out, hurdling the guardrail over the ship and landing gracefully on the water. No, not in the water, on it. Her feet were standing on top of the waves as ripples came from her feet.

“Atta girl!” Joseph called from the boat. “Just like your old man!”

Yorokobi ran as fast as she could to catch up to the boy in the water. When she got there, a shark was just about to make a quick lunch of the boy, but Yorokobi was fast enough to blow it away with one clean strike.

The boy looked in awe at Yorokobi, who extended her hand to grab him.

“Come on,” she giggled. “Let’s get you back on ship.”

While Yorokobi was lifting the boy up, she accidentally knocked his hat off and into the sea. Tucked in the hat was long locks of hair, which fell down onto this boy’s, or rather girl’s shoulders.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to do that!” Yorokobi gasped. “I’m really sorry! Here, I’ll go get your hat for-”

When Yorokobi looked back, the shark had been torn through, and the fin of the creature who did it popped up just a little. It didn’t look like a fin from any known marine animal. Either she was lucky to discover something brand new, or it was the more likely scenario…

“Yorokobi! There’s a Stand in the water!” Joseph shouted. “Get back to ship!”

Yorokobi sprinted back to the boat as the creature inched closer to her. In the end, Kakyoin had Hierophant retrieve the two, lifting them above the waters before the creature devoured them whole. She had to be honest, it seemed like fun pretending to be a guy. Maybe she could try that.”

“Are you alright?” Joseph asked.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Yorokobi said. “Actually I’m mostly worried about the girl.”

“I have a name, you know,” the girl huffed.

“Well, you never told it to us, so how should we know?” Polnareff snapped. “Besides, you could have been the one who tried to kill Yorokobi!”

“Did you get hurt anywhere, um… what’s your name?” Yorokobi said, ignoring Polnareff.

“Anne.”

“Anne. Are you alright?”

“Don’t help the brat, idiot!” Polnareff kicked Yorokobi, but not very hard. “She could be the enemy!”

“Hey!” Jotaro scowled. He yanked Polnareff up by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t lay a hand on Yorokobi!”

“Jojo,” Yorokobi said. Jotaro nodded, letting go of Polnareff. The man sighed with relief, before getting hit with a Hamon-filled uppercut in the face.

“Just a reminder not to kick me again,” she said, turning back to Anne.

“I’m okay,” Anne finally got the chance to say. “What were you running away from, anyway? And how were you walking on water?”

“Well, it’s because-” Yorokobi started to say, but Anne was taken into the arms of the captain.

“So this is our stowaway?” he asked, twisting Anne’s arm. “You may be a girl, but if I take it easy on you, then more stowaways will show up.”

“Sir, please show mercy on Anne,” Yorokobi said, grabbing on to his sleeve. “She just wants to see her dad in Singa-”

“I know full well why she boarded our ship!” Captain Tennille snapped. He shoved Yorokobi off of him. “That doesn’t make any difference.”

“Yes, sir,” Yorokobi said. She bowed, then walked away. Although she wanted to help Anne more, she knew that arguing with the captain could interfere with the rest of the group’s trip to Singapore.

“Hey,” Jotaro said, walking up to the captain. “You could have just told Yorokobi calmly why you were still showing no mercy to the stowaway. There was no need to be a dick about it.”

“Jojo, you idiot,” Yorokobi hissed under her breath, then went back to her normal voice. “It’s okay, I didn’t get hurt. Besides, he’s the captain. I do need to follow his rules.”

“I know that,” Jotaro said. “But there’s a reason I actually confronted the captain about it.”

“And that is…?”

“He’s the Stand user that attacked you!”

Yorokobi took a step back, wide-eyed, then suddenly laughed. “You almost got me there for a second!” she said. “That was a good one!”

“I’m being serious.”

Yorokobi stopped laughing.

“How do you know he’s the Stand user?” Joseph asked. “Making wild assumptions will just confuse everyone even more.”

“Because I’ve figured out a trick,” Jotaro said, glaring at Captain Tennille. “Every Stand user who’s inhaled even a little bit of cigarette smoke has a vein pop up on their nose!”

Yorokobi checked her nose, and disappointingly felt nothing.

“You can’t be serious, Jotaro!” Polnareff said.

“Nope, I was lying,” Jotaro replied, then looked back up at the captain. “But it looks like we found the idiot.”

Captain Tennille looked back, with his hand on his nose.

While the supposedly fake captain and Jotaro exchanged dialogue, Yorokobi thought of a way to get Jotaro back for making her think there was no chance of her Stand awakening.

“But now you’ll have to follow me into the sea, because I have a hostage!” the fake Captain Tennille said. He grabbed Anne with his Stand, and jumped into the water. Before he could even leave the boat, however, Star Platinum whaled on him, leaving the man heavily injured and sinking into the sea. Jotaro caught Anne before she fell in, too.

“Good job, Jotaro!” Joseph said happily, patting his grandson on the back. Although nobody else seemed to notice, Yorokobi could see Jotaro struggling to lift Anne up into the boat again. In fact, it almost looked like he was being pulled down. Something was up about that Stand, and it seemed to drain Star Platinum of its energy. If Jotaro wasn’t pulled back in time, he could fall in the water, where the enemy was hiding!

“Jojo!” Yorokobi cried. She flipped overboard, kicking Jotaro with enough force that he and his Stand were sent back into the middle of the ship, then dived into the water before pulling herself to the surface.

“Not again,” Jotaro muttered. “Just because she can walk on water doesn’t mean she should just run around when there’s a Stand loose down there.”

“I saved you, and I don’t even get a thanks?” Yorokobi scoffed playfully. “I see how it is.”

“Yorokobi, you need to get back in the boat,” Jotaro said. His voice wasn’t sharp, nor was it annoyed. Rather, it was warning.

“What, are you jealous?” Yorokobi sneered. “Jealous I can walk on water when all you can do is-”

Before Yorokobi had time to finish her sentence, something grabbed her leg and pulled her into the ocean, so sudden it almost looked like she disappeared.

“Yorokobi!” everyone cried.

So Jotaro was really trying to warn me about something, Yorokobi thought to herself as the creature in the water pulled her further down. Without a Stand of her own, it was almost impossible to defend herself.

“Welcome to my realm of the sea, young girl!” the fake captain said. “I’m lucky that you’re the first one to come down here. All of the other members of your group can at least fight back against my Dark Blue Moon, but you rely on breathing for your abilities, don’t you?”

Yorokobi flailed on the sea floor, where Dark Blue Moon had her pinned down. Without a way to get a breath, she was helpless.

“It looks like I’ll just need to keep you pinned down here, and you’ll drown,” Captain Tennille laughed. “Even if I get defeated by your brother, I can at least say I finished you off.”

“Yorokobi is trapped underwater!” Polnareff exclaimed on the surface.

“You don’t have to state the obvious,” Kakyoin said. “I’ll go fight the enemy with Hierophant, since he’s long range.”

Hierophant Green plunged into the ocean, searching for Yorokobi. Captain Tennille heard the sound of a splash and looked up from his struggling victim, seeing the Stand rushing down to attack.

“Looks like your little friends are coming to rescue you,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, we won’t need to worry about that for long.” Dark Blue moon let Yorokobi go, and started spinning its arms around wildly, creating a whirlpool. Yorokobi, already short on breath, was now being tossed around in the whirlpool, and every time she felt like vomiting, a little more of her breath was lost. Kakyoin, who still had Hierophant down there, was confused on how this would stop his Stand from at least getting Yorokobi back to the ship. That is, until tiny slices were being cut all over his body. Screaming in pain, he called Hierophant back, and learned why those slices were appearing.

“Scales,” he said, wincing at every move. “He put his scales into the water, and they’re spinning around in the whirlpool.”

“And Yorokobi’s still down there!” Avdol said.

“That’s it, I’m going to get her,” Jotaro stated. Just as he was about to jump overboard, a hand yanked him back.

“It’s too reckless to act, Jotaro,” Avdol said. “Star Platinum’s energy is still being drained from the acorn barnacles, and he’s not even best for the job in the first place.”

“Besides,” Joseph added, “Yorokobi may not be as strong as any of us, but she’s just as much of a Joestar as you and I. She’ll be fine, trust me.”

Jotaro raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay. She’ll be alive. Just have some faith in her.”

Jotaro grunted, but said nothing more.

“Mr. Joestar,” Kakyoin said, “I know you said to have faith in her, but if it takes too long for her to come back up, I’ll retrieve Yorokobi from the water. My Stand is the best suited for it.”

“But look at you!” Joseph argued. “You’re already bloody from just a few seconds in that water.”

“I can recover,” Kakyoin replied, “but you can’t recover a dead body. I insist I get Yorokobi out of there if you get worried about her making it.”

Joseph opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then sighed and said, “Okay. If the enemy keeps Yorokobi down there for a while, you can get her out.”

Although he meant every word he said, Kakyoin couldn’t help but think, Hear that, Jotaro? I’ll save your sister if she’s in danger.

“Look!” Avdol exclaimed. “Yorokobi appeared above the water!”

Very briefly, the crew could see Yorokobi’s body resting in the water before it was sucked back in.

“She wasn’t moving at all!” Polnareff said. “She was completely limp!”

“Well, Kakyoin, you said you would save Yorokobi, right?” Jotaro said.

“I did!” Kakyoin said. He summoned Hierophant, who was right at the surface of the water before Hermit Purple wrapped around it and pulled it back.

“Wait just a moment,” Joseph said. “Yorokobi going limp might be a good thing. It means she knows to conserve her energy and wait for a chance to strike.”

Back in the water, Captain Tennille let out a hearty belly laugh. “You should be nearly out of breath,” he said. “I wonder where the others will put your grave? Will they put it in Singapore, for time’s convenience, or in Japan, your home country? Or will they be finished off, just like you, and never get to put your grave anywhere?”

“You should have kept me pinned down,” was all Yorokobi replied with.

“What?”

“Pinned down, where I had no chance of breathing,” she continued. A sparkling energy encased her arm, and she swung it at Captain Tennille. The Hamon was carried straight into the center of the whirlpool, landing a direct blow to the fake captain’s stomach. The whirlpool instantly stopped, and Captain Tennille slowly sank down.

“Unfortunately for you, your grave will be at the bottom of the ocean floor,” Yorokobi said as she swam up. The moment she arrived at the surface, she gasped for air. The tiny breath she got before was enough to make Hamon, but not nearly enough to sustain her.

“See? What did I tell ya?” Joseph laughed. “Come on up, Yorokobi! Here, I’ll get a-”

An explosion blew off some of the boat before Joseph could finish, and another one followed soon after.

“He sabotaged the boat!” Avdol exclaimed. “Quick, everyone get to a life raft!”

Yorokobi, still in the water, pushed herself up and started running to the life rafts, where she found one occupied with the rest of the crew.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, taking a seat in between Kakyoin and Joseph, the only spot that was really available.

“Ooh, you okay?” Kakyoin asked. “Those scales scratched you up pretty bad.”

“You’re one to talk, with worse injuries than me!” Yorokobi laughed. “At least I was traveling in the direction of the scales, so they scrape me as hard.”

“But you were down there longer, and you were in saltwater,” Kakyoin said. He had a playful spark in his eye, like he wanted Yorokobi to make a comeback.

“And you haven’t had the saltwater around us splash into your open cuts?” Yorokobi said, smiling.

As the two of them playfully argued, everyone else in the boat gave each other knowing glances.

“You know, Yorokobi,” Jotaro said, “Kakyoin was about to send Hierophant down in the water again to rescue you. He was only stopped by the old man.”

Kakyoin looked back at Jotaro, who nodded ever so slightly, with a small smile on his face. Kakyoin nodded back, a much wider smile appearing on his.

“You went back to save me?” Yorokobi asked.

“Well, yeah,” Kakyoin replied. “I mean, I didn’t know if you’d be okay. I haven’t really seen you in battle, so I was a little worried about you facing a Stand user without, you know, a-”

“I was just going to say thank you,” Yorokobi said as a small chuckle escaped her lips. “You’re acting like I was going to kill you for worrying about me.”

Kakyoin sighed. “That’s a relief.”

After that, everyone stayed quiet for a little bit.

“Well,” Anne said, “now what?”

“Now, we wait for help,” Joseph answered.

And wait, they did.

[kaiqarker]

lost and found | part 1

pairing: xavier plympton x reader

warnings: swearing, angst

summary: in which a savior of heaven is sent down to camp redwood to put an end to the bloodbath and help the lost souls that reside there.

tag list: @vixi3303

part one: the awakening

THE GIRL DIDN’T DARE let any of her doubts bleed to the surface while she took one step after another, entering the premises of the unholy ground that was camp redwood. she had done her research of course, learning the truth and the lies and how every drop of blood was spilt in between in all. the place itself was an undoubtable tragedy, and if her facts were right, so were the souls stuck here.

satan had been behind some of the most cruelest acts placed upon humanity, but she was was sure this was one of the worst. he had cursed the area; so whoever died (gruesomely in almost all cases) here, were trapped. this was a purgatory for them, a hell without the infamous flames and bloodstained sky. unfortunately, that kind of thing results in these ghosts giving up any sort of humanity they had left.

so not only did the living leave its twisted mark, the dead did too. some were plainly lost, forgotten that they had even perished. some were aware, but have been here for so long they were merely zombies, their hope and motivation to do much of anything gone. and then finally, there were the ones who decided that they would make the most of this opportunity, abandoning all sense of right and wrong and spreading their curse.

those were the people heaven were most concerned about. they were turning this campground into even more of a bloodbath than it already was. held back with no morals of any kind, they proved to be devious and heartless, willing to end of the life of any tourist that happened to wander into the area.

so heaven, the land of light and peace, had sent her. having been human once, they had thought she’d be able to get through to a few of them. and with her flawless ability to follow the rules and show compassion, she had seemed like the perfect choice to her superiors. she only hoped to live up to their high expectations, especially elijah’s.

branches snapped beneath her sneaker-covered feet as she followed a trail through the surrounding woods. her eyes shifted around, looking for any sign of another’s presence, and ultimately coming up empty. her eyebrows knitted together, not knowing what to think of the quiet hum of the forest and the blue jays that had just fluttered by. she had expected utter chaos and to be overwhelmed with the unresolved problems the camp harbored immediately. and yet, she dared to think that this place was almost... calming.

the pain that erupted from her shoulder blade pulled her out of her enchantment, a small cry of surprise escaping her while she stumbled forward, almost falling onto the ground where the autumn leaves would have barely cushioned her fall. she instinctively turned around, finding the sight of a smirking blonde standing merely a foot away from her, the bloody knife in her hand gaining y/n’s attention for a moment.

“sorry to be rude and not introduce myself, but i’m not in an introductory mood. quite frankly, i’m sick of talking in general. it can ruin the moment, you know?” the blonde said to her, twisting her wrist and making sure the blade was pointed directly at her.

the newcomer took a step back, standing up on her own and removing the hand she had placed on a tree trunk for balance. the irritation from her stab wound had almost completely gone away; she knew her ability to heal fast would probably come in handy down here.

“you call killing an innocent person a moment, montana?” y/n questioned, recognizing the doe-eyed woman instantly. she watched as montana’s red-stained lips turned into a flat line, her playful demeanor dropping.

“how do you know my name?”

“because i’m supposed to. it’s my job to.”

“that isn’t clearing anything up.” montana growled, gripping her knife tighter. she debated on whether she should let her explain or just kill her like she had originally planned.

“put the knife down and we’ll talk.” y/n replied with raised hands, indicating she wanted to do the ghost no harm.

“yeah, no thanks.”

montana lunged at her, the blade of her knife slicing the air and not her skin as y/n easily dodged the attack, more prepared than before. the soon-to-be angel studied the way she only grew more frustrated, huffing in displeasure before she went after her target again.

this time y/n didn’t just avoid the blonde, she grabbed ahold of her wrist, stopping the knife from being thrusted into her chest. montana tried with all of her strength to push against her grasp and allow the blade to burrow deep within the stranger, but y/n’s grasp didn’t falter. in fact, she twisted montana’s wrist just enough so that she would drop the weapon, and then pushed her away from her.

montana stumbled back, shocked and embarrassed at how easily she was overpowered. especially since she had been a feared predator ever since she had died and been stuck in this place. she loved the power she possessed and every plea of mercy she had gotten from her victims. and now, the blonde felt how she felt when she was alive, helpless.

“what the hell are you?”

“technically,” she began, picking up the knife that still had her blood coated on the blade, “i’m an angel. well, almost one. point is — i’m from heaven.”

montana was about to laugh at the outrageousness before her eyes happen to catch sight of y/n’s back, seeing only dry blood instead of a leaking flesh wound. she had stabbed her, she was sure of it. she had saw the blade puncture her skin and cut through her.

“no fucking way.”

“way.” y/n said with humor in her voice, letting herself be amused despite the fact she had someone who wanted to kill her right in front of her.

“what’s going on here?” a voice gained both of the girls’ attention, belonging to the one and only xavier plympton, who was clad in a pair of white shorts and a purple muscle tank.

his blue eyes find montana first but then they drift to the new girl, examining her pretty face, framed by stray strands of hair that escaped her pony tail. they lower down to where her white tank top clings to her chest and eventually past her matching shorts where her long legs were offered up to his view. he decided she definitely wasn’t hard to look at.

“who are you and why hasn’t montana killed you yet?” he asks, automatically becoming curious and taking a few steps towards both of them.

“i’m y/n. and believe me, she’s tried.” y/n gestured to the knife in her raised hand, wagging it back and forth for clarification.

“if you keep talking about me like i’m not here then i will kill both of you!” montana kicked off the tree she was leaning against, sending them both a glare that certainly didn’t intimidate either of them in the slightest. she took her place beside xavier, grabbing ahold of his shirt and yanking him down so his lips crashed messily against hers. her eyes closed in the satisfaction that she was still in control when it comes to things like this, wordlessly claiming he was hers to have and play with as she pleased.

xavier’s eyes stayed open for once, staring directly at the stranger and how uncomfortable she looked with the spontaneous action. he noticed her parted lips, averted gaze, and the blush that began to rise to the surface of her cheeks. she was innocent — and that sparked something within him.

finally montana pulled away with a pleased sigh, returning her focus back to the girl who had many surprises to offer. her eyes narrowed when she spotted her knife still in her hand, knowing she would get it back even if she had to break each and every one of her fingers.

“guess what, xav? she’s a fucking angel.”

“almost angel.” y/n corrected immediately.

“seriously? like an angel with wings and halos and shit?” xavier asked, tilting his head and believing it easier than montana did.

“they don’t actually have those. but... yes, i’m from heaven.”

“fine. what are you doing here then? because it can’t just be to ruin my day.” montana scoffed, crossing her arms.

“i’m here to help you.” y/n spoke with sincerity, eyes unwavering as they locked on both xavier and montana.

xavier felt the impact of her words, hearing the promise in her soft-spoken voice, and was unexpectedly affected. that itself confused him. he hadn’t allowed himself to care about anything since he died and got stuck here. there was no point. no rewards or consequences to any action. he had accepted years ago that this was his afterlife for the rest of eternity, and now he what? was supposed to believe this girl and have the hope she so clearly had? he didn’t. but a little part of him wanted to, and that’s what left him speechless for the moment.

“bullshit. get me back my knife and maybe i won’t cut your eyeballs out of your sockets.” montana rolled her eyes and held out her hand, already over this whole situation.

“really? after all of this that’s what you’re most concerned about?”

montana nods her head, lips pulled into a frown, and y/n shrugs nonchalantly as an idea pops into her head. “alright. fine. if you want it, go get it.”

before the blonde can say another word, y/n flings the knife with quite a force in a random direction, and montana can only watch as the weapon flies through the air and disappears into the trees. that was it. it was personal now.

“you little bitch!” montana hissed, ready to pounce on her again and give her murder another go, but she’s stopped by xavier’s grip on her arm.

“babe, stop. it’s just a knife. there’s other weapons in the sea.” xavier jokes, smirking at her enraged form, and he pretends that he wasn’t stopping her just to mock her.

“i don’t care. i just want her dead. let go of me before i kick you in the balls. dead or not i know it still hurts!”

“you can’t kill me.” y/n interjects, seeing montana cease her struggle in xavier’s hold. “i already died. that’s how i got to heaven in the first place. you can try, but i’d just come back.”

“fine. i can’t kill you. but i can hurt you. so i would leave while you still can, because i will make it my mission to torture you the entire time you’re here.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

“then, i would start looking over your shoulder. you’ve seen what happens when you don’t,” montana grins wickedly as she nods her head to the dry blood still sticking to her skin, and without another word, she turns around and starts in the direction where her knife was thrown.

“she truly is lovely. i get what you see in her. so dedicated.” y/n mutters sarcastically, placing her hands on her waist while she wonders to herself how she will ever turn someone like montana around.

“montana sure is something,” she hears xavier respond from beside her, hearing the leaves crunch with each step he aimlessly takes towards her. she doesn’t notice until his hot breath fans her ear that he had gotten that close to her. “but she’s no angel.”

her neck pivots when she turns her head to face him, their noses almost bumping from their proximity from each other. his oceanic eyes held mischief and playfulness, staring directly into her guarded pair. it was clear he didn’t give much thought into having boundaries.

“i’m surprised you’re not trying to kill me too.” y/n states, managing to keep her voice steady and her face neutral even though the lack of space between them was unnerving to say the least. it was the most intimate situation she had been in since she was alive.

“little ol’ me? now what would make you think that?” he smiles charmingly but the dark humor in his tone is evident, his breaths from his words tickling her lips.

“i’ve read your file, xavier.” she breaks their little staring contest, taking a step back away from him. “you’re just as murderous and manipulative as montana.”

“and yet you’re not running for the hills.”

“because whether any of you see it or not, you’re redeemable.”

xavier can’t help but laugh, finding her words nothing short of unbelievable. “listen, angel. it’s cute and all that you think you’re gonna flap your nonexistent wings and fix our poor little broken souls, but most of us don’t even want saving. like me. i’m perfectly happy here. i have never been more free.”

“and your life alive was so horrible?”

“compared to this, yeah. i tried to save people, to do the right thing, and i just ended up dying — painfully by the way. morals blind you. they hold you back. it’s much more freeing to just let go. you should try it.” he explained, watching her let his response sink in. her face morphed into a frown, and he could have been imagining it, but her eyes seem to glaze with sadness.

“you’re... so wrong and you don’t even know it.”

“i’m not, angel. that’s just how it is.”

“then, bertie protecting you, saving you, that meant nothing?” y/n asked, watching his face harden for the briefest of seconds before he returned to smirking and raising his eyebrows at her.

“that was just pointless. i died anyway.” he shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets.

“still,” she argued, gravitating back towards him, “it was worth something before that. you were grateful and relieved and... sad when you saw the condition she was in.”

“maybe. but none of that matters now.” xavier dismisses, feeling something build up inside of him with the point she was making. his throat was tight and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to contain whatever it was.

“things could matter again, xavier.” she whispered, letting her eyes properly roam his face and all of its flawless alignments. he was beautiful, there was no denying that.

he allows himself to gaze shamelessly right back at her, studying the upturn of her adorable nose, soft, pink lips, and finally returning to her eyes that possessed so much depth it just about consumed him. it was no wonder she was an angel, every part of her was angelic and undeniably mesmerizing. his heart swelled with admiration, catching him off guard more than anything that had happened during their encounter. her influence on him terrified him.

“i don’t think so,” he declares coldly, newfound anger at her rising to the surface, masking any other emotion he was feeling.

“xavier.” she murmurs, surprised at his sudden change of mood. it seemed as if they were getting somewhere, and he did a total 180 on her.

“just do us all a favor and leave. because montana’s right, if you stay, we won’t take it easy on you.” he scoffs, glancing at her perplexed face one more time before he leaves her there on the trail, alone and questioning just about everything.

[elegiacmarquise]

More love for the pink damsel

This is a rant, the first and the only, that I wrote a while ago and which I posted previously on DeviantArt and reposted on the Mario Amino, few days after the release of Super Mario Odyssey, after a new wave of hatred towards Princess Peach...

Considering that, nevertheless, the princess' relationship with most fans has always been ambiguous, what may have seemed to be tolerable, now is no longer acceptable speaking from the prospective of Peach's admirer, and hoping to be a spokesman for who, like me, genuinely appreciates her.

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

But before starting with the proper rant, why do I post this writing, even if they passed almost two years when I did write it? A YouTube video made by the quite famous personality of RelaxAlax which I Iink below.

Quite shallow, huh?

But this will NOT be an hate speech towards Alax, the rest of his videos are actually enjoyable and sometimes funny, but despite what he says in the video is nothing more and nothing less than what most Peach's haters actually say, I'm fearing that even due to this video, people are convinced to hate the pink princess without even knowing the truth behind her character.

But I must've taken you a lot of time, let's begin this speech, which was inspired by an older one (now deleted) posted by a friend of mine on Deviantart.

Let’s get started from the most recurring insults about the personality

"Peach is weak!!!"

While it’s true that for most of the games the Princess is kidnapped by Bowser or any enemy, it’s also the case that several times she has proved to be not so helpless, and even trying to escape to her kidnapper more than once indicates that Peach is not just staying there to patiently wait her hero; indeed, she was the only one along with Rosalina and Toadette who was been able to defend herself.

Some proofs? Super Princess Peach, Super Paper Mario, Super Mario 3D Land/ World, Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle, Super Smash Bros series...

"So why is she always kidnapped?!"

Nintendo logic. Just joking, I think that the reason is due to the fact that Peach, like anyone else, is an human being, with her fears and anxieties, and so what can she do if suddenly there is a monster bigger at least the triple of her accompanied by an huge army? Not everyone is badass, and she obviously is not always, but is it a good reason to hate her? I don’t think so.

Also remember that even two stronger characters like Mario and Luigi often struggle during the battles with Bowser, how could a delicate princess?

So, in a more general view, how much it’s wrong to blame the victims and not the kidnappers? Why does everyone hate Peach for this and not BOWSER?

And there are Daisy, Pauline and Zelda, who were kidnapped as well, but still worshipped as goddesses...

"Peach is stupid!!1!"

If the Princess was actually that stupid,she wouldn't be on a throne ruling a whole kingdom peacefully nor even to try a time machine or even called to try to find a cure to a plague that affected the Mushroom Kingdom. She may not have an IQ of 300 like Dr Eggman,but that doesn't mean she's stupid.

Characters who are REALLY "stupid" on purpose, like Wario and Waluigi, loved because they are. Now, people, don't tell me you aren't uncoherent.

"Peach has no personality!1!"

So, a sweet and kind personality shouldn’t be a good character trait? Great, so we wasted years and years of characterization in a video game character.

Even a little development is always putted in while creating a characte and, as we are seeing, Miyamoto and Nintendo are generally developing the character of the princess, in the best, demonstrating that even the princess is not a fossilized archetype in Mario's existence for thirty years. She’s so sweet and kind, but also has values, friends and a dignity that defends strenuously.

Guys, Peach is human, so she has flaws, and that's right, but saying that she doesn’t have personality is an insult to both her and Nintendo in general.

Let's compare for a moment Peach and Rei Ayanami from Evangelion, and see who is not supposed to have personality. (although Rei also has a very strong, still not obvious, characterization that develops in the course of the series)

"Peach is a Mary Sue!!!1!"

A Mary Sue would theoretically is a character with too unnatural characteristics for their universe or species, overly powerful and often accompanied by a tragic backstory; in short, it's misleading in their context. By applying this description to Peach, how should she be a Mary Sue?

As explained in the previous paragraphs, the Princess, still mostly human, has a magical power that is always inferior to those of other characters, such as Rosalina; and comparing it with the Star Guardian, shouldn’t be her chararcter be more similar in the description of a Sue? Consistency, this unknown concept...

I see you already with the forks in your hands, but let me clarify one thing, even a character like Rosalina is not a Mary Sue, she still has her flaws, and we love her as she is, but if Peach is one, Rosalina fits the definition WAY more.

Let’s talk about the character design

"Peach always wears pink!!1!"

Come on, guys, hating a character for a color is a such superficial thing that, would do kindergarten children the most.

Pink is a color like all the others, in the spectrum of colors, so anyone can wear it, even males.

(Trivia: up to a few decades ago, pink was more of a masculine color, given to boys since it’s a lighter version of red, a color considered manly)

Peach is looking good with pink and no one in Mario games seems to complain too much about that, and so, so why do we fans do?

"Peach is girly!!!!1!”

And so? A female character to be worthy of this name must be a tomboy or a badass with a gun on her hands? You have great prospects in mind, my dear ones, just like that.

Seriously, why does a character who likes to cure herself, should be banned from today's media?

However, almost all the girls in the Mario games are femminine, even Daisy, despite being described as a tomboy, so it doesn’t seem a good excuse for hating a character.

"Peach is blonde!!!1!"

Guys that stereotype that everyone who is blonde must be stupid it's not only extremely outdated, but there are a lot of people who consider it quite offensive. Open your minds! Go, go! The isn't any relations about the quantity of melaninine on the hair and the actual intelligence.

Even Rosalina and most of the Zeldas encountered in the games are blondes, but nobody seems to care.

"Peach has an annoying voice!!1!"

All the characters in the Mario games have their voices emphasized, guys, and Peach isn’t an exception.

There are characters with even more exaggerated voices, trust me, like Daisy, Toad or Rosalina's new dubbing, but for certain reasons, only Peach should be demonized for that by fans.

"Peach is a prostitute!!1!"

This is one of the most recurring insults that are ever placed against our hated Princess, and that's what I'm wondering where most haters have been losing their credibility.

Did Peach ever wear provocative clothes? NO. (unless you have a fetishism towards biker suits and similar outfits)

Has she ever tried to seduce anyone she saw? NEVER (what you see on Rule34 and other lewd sites is not canon, I'm sorry)

Let's be clear: Peach is just the opposite of the stereotype of the prostitute, as being a sweet, gentle, and that kind of girl who rarely makes sloppy thoughts; And yet Mario is not the kind of game that is suitable to show sensual girls often.

Another point: how do people define as that Peach and not Pauline or Valentina from Super Mario RPG, who are wearing much revealing clothes (and not even worthy to be called with those sick names)? Mystery of the Faith.

PS. Giving a prostitute to someone is not fashionable anymore :3

Now, let’s analyse that kind of insults that relate with Peach’s relationships with other characters

"Peach isn’t grateful to Mario!!!!1!"

Ever since Peach has never been grateful to Mario? WHEN? She kisses him, and fills him with cakes. What should the Princess do more with him? having sex is not a good answer, and it doesn't even marrying him.

Mario is still a sweet and family friendly series, if you want NSFW art, go to rule34 or look good at deviantart, but don’t expect explicit scenes in similar games.

"Peach is a tyrant who abuses Toads!!!1!"

But since that is so, seriously, did I miss some details? And no, The Game Theorists, aren’t worth as a source of inspiration since theirs is only a mere SPECULATION (also badly made imho).

To me Peach has always seemed like the OPPOSITE of a tyrant! She’s a good sovereign who’s caring for her subjects, and most of the Toads are happy with her guide and willing whenever she needs help.

I guess you are thinking of the Toad used from the princess during Super Smash Bros: If we analyse well what our beloved mushroom does during the frames in which we can see him, we can notice that doesn’t acts as a shield for the princess, but is determined more than ever to attack with his spores, so for me this isn’t a point to demonise Peach at all.

Then do you think that in Smash bros Rosalina does something way more serious?! She fights with a Luma, one of her CHILDREN all the time. But since she is our beloved star waifu, Peach is not worth to be compared lmao.

Again this time implore the sacred goddess of the consistency for forgiving their vain words...

"Peach betrays Daisy!!!1!"

Peach and Daisy have proven themselves to be best friends since the first time they appeared together, and even now their idyllic relationship hasn’t stopped being shown in the games and even in that LINE stickers that came out a while ago!

How Peach Should betray Daisy? For Rosalina, for Pauline? I think all the girls in the world of Mario are friendly to each other, so I don’t see any reasons in a betray, since at worst they are in a friendly rivalry.

"Peach is much less sexy than Rosalina / Pauline!!!1!"

If I can understand why Pauline can be considered sensual, how should Rosalina be? She’s wearing just a turquoise dress, which does not reveals much, and which can only be sexualized in the most indecent fanarts drawn by FANS indeed, but we all know the new religion that places the guardian of the Lumas to a brand new god.

However, all of Mario girls have been designed to be beautiful, not sex objects, not even Pauline, and none of them will agree to be your beautiful waifus condescending to all your fantasies, deal with it!

"Peach is not tomboy like Daisy is!!!1!"

And this is what connects to the previous point where the Princess was insulted to be girly. Assuming that even Daisy, in her own way, is girly (if she was totally a tomboy, she wouldn’t certainly wear those long dresses with ease, nor she would have her notorious passion for flowers), it’s not nice to have a bit of variety in the characters personalities? Go on, Peach is a gentle and sweet girl, Daisy is exuberant and sporty, Rosalina, calm and majestic, Wendy spoiled yet powerful, Toadette cheerful and curious, and finally Pauline concrete and passionate. Everyone compensates their gaps with the others, and this balance between the girls is fine, so please do not compare all the girls, Peach first, to Daisy.

"Peach appears too much in the games, so she's overrated!!!1!"

Guys, our princess is one of the protagonists of Mario's videogames, along with the plumber, his brother, Bowser and Toad, so it's natural that she often appears in the games. After all, Peach (after Pauline, who belonged for long time to another series) is the first of the princesses to appear, so it's logical that Nintendo would value that in this way.

And another little thing: the word overrated does NOT mean popular in its own universe, it means overly popular among its FANS.

And Peach has relatively few fans compared to the other main characters.

And, as the final cherry on the cake, let’s talk about Odyssey, who can have reassume prevous points, but what is equally needed, because of the following reasons

"PEACH IS A BITCH WHO HASN’T ACCEPTED MARIO'S PROPOSAL, STUPID AND UNGRATEFUL!!!1! THAT’S OBVIOUS THAT MARIO CHOOSES PAULINE!!!1!"

And here we come to the juice of the speech, and at this point I would like to ask: but have you seen the final cutscene of the game, or are you just knocking on your keyboards to don’t make feel the keys alone and misunderstood?

Let’s assume that after a long, tiring journey along the WHOLE world, with a monster bigger at least the triple of you who is doing everything to organize a NOT-wanted marriage with you; and  immediately soon after being rescued, at the end of an extravagant battle, you have not one, but TWO contenders for your hand, what are you doing? The doll who gives all of herself to her hero just because she saved you? But in which period are we, in the nineteenth century?

Guys, let's talk seriously, would you immediately answer to a such serious question, which can change the rest of your life, on the moon under such conditions? I really don’t think so.

So Peach did, showing her intelligence, and why not, joking over it. It wasn’t the place nor the time for Mario and Bowser to move such proposals, and I honestly think that Peach done right to refuse both of them, I believe, momentarily.

And so centuries of feminist struggles went cancelled because of a video game character...

"PEACH HAS LEFT MARIO AND BOWSER ON THE MOON!!1!"

Yeah, okay, Odyssey's final was what it was, but you can’t hate a character because she's not a puppet in Mario or Bowser's hand. Tell me, you first complained that Peach had no character and now that she has explicated it, in good, you hate her the same? Consistency, this unknown concept...

However, for this detail, have you noticed that Peach eventually called Mario on the Odyssey, even though it had already started to fly? Mario had all the time he needed to get on board with the Princess and her friends. Even if Mario couldn't make it to the Odyssey (which is also unlikely under a cautious analysis of the cutscene), I even highly doubt that not only Bowser but all the other wedding's guests (including PAULINE) were diying there, surely there was at least ONE other vehicle which could bring back them home.

Also think about Peach's dialogues in the post-game: she completely forgave Mario's misbehaving and she's still happy to see him to the point to give him all the moons she gets! So she’s not that ungrateful...

And that's what I needed to say. Guys, please stop hating Peach, she didn’t do anything, and certainly she doesn’t deserve your insults.

In these times, the princess is among the main characters the most hated, even much more than Daisy or Zelda, who have their great slice of fans, who would do anything for them and even considering them "better" in Smash Bros.

I'm sorry to have written this rant but I'm sure this time is really needed...

Fandoms, Mario included, can be beautiful places where you can meet fantastic people but at the same time you can witness this free hate episodes even from famous personalities...

Thank you for reading, and see you soon.

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P.S. Below I show you the main places where the princess is hated for the above reasons.

Gamefaqs, TheTopTens.com, Marioboards, DeviantArt and Youtube

P.P.S. Please, do not go to the video I've mentioned only to insult the youtuber: despite that entry is far from being well-crafted, he made enjoyable content as well. He deserves respect as well and if you really want to discuss in the comment section about the subject, please be polite

P.P.P.S. If you hate Peach and you feel to comment here, please write maturely, well-structured comments. If we can have a mature dialogue, it's best for both of us.

[meticulouswriting]

Helpless

Pairing: Jaina Shepard x Garrus Vakarian Fic Summary: Garrus has rarely ever felt helpless. But Shepard has a way of turning the galaxy upside down. Rating: SFW Warnings: None

AO3

There have been very few times in his life that Garrus Vakarian had ever felt helpless.

The first time red tape had blocked him from stopping a man he knew was guilty; he’d felt it then. Like all his training and skill and effort meant nothing at all. The man had been caught eventually, but not before claiming one more victim. A victim that might’ve gone on living for decades more if Garrus had been allowed to act. He’d hated that feeling, hated knowing that he could’ve helped people if there hadn’t been so many damned rules getting in his way. Remembering that moment, and the others like it that followed in his years at C-Sec, had made going with Shepard an easy decision to make. It felt like freedom, being able to act as the situation called for, without waiting for half a dozen superiors to approve every move he made. Even when they were done hunting Saren, when he left the Normandy and tried going back to work on the Citadel, he’d felt lighter.

He’d felt helpless, again, when he found out that the Normandy had been shot down. That Shepard had been shot down. Even though he knew that his presence probably wouldn’t have been enough to save her, he still felt like he should’ve been there, should’ve been able to do something.

Should’ve been able to tell her how much she’d meant to him, at the very least.

Then he was on Omega, and he was finally getting back a sense of control, leading his men and actually making a dent in the crime that seemed to be everywhere. Until Sidonis’s betrayal, where he was helpless again, unable to see through the ruse or act fast enough to save his men. He couldn’t even hunt down the traitor and avenge them. In a way, it felt right that he should go down fighting, not far from where his men had done the same. At least then he was doing something, and maybe he’d take enough of the mercs down with him to cripple the organizations for a long while after he was gone.

But he didn’t die on Omega. He was saved by a ghost with an assault rifle, the one person he’d never expected to see until he ended up in whatever heaven was waiting for human Spectres and Turian vigilantes. Shepard came with a mission, and just like that he had purpose again. A way to actually do something that mattered, just like the good old days on the SR-1.

Well, not just like them. This time, he was the one who came to Shepard’s cabin in the night, interspecies awkwardness forgotten while they “blew off steam” in the best possible way. This time, he realized that she was more than his best friend, more than a soldier he looked up to. This time, Shepard was his, and he was hers.

Knowing that made leaving the Normandy easier. Garrus was frustrated when the Alliance seized the ship, furious that they couldn’t see that she’d had no other choice but to blow the Alpha relay, but this time he didn’t feel helpless. The Turian Hierarchy was finally ready to listen to the warnings he and Shepard had been giving for three years, and, token task force or not, he felt like he was actually doing something. He missed her, desperately, but he knew that if anyone could find a way out of the situation and back into the fight, it was Shepard.

But then came the invasion on Palaven. And on Manae, Garrus watched Palaven burn. He realized then that, skilled as he was, there wasn’t a single thing within his power to do that could even put a scratch on the enemies they faced. Even seeing Shepard again--and Spirits, was it good to see that woman--didn’t help the crushing weight of the lives that were lost every day on his home while they were forced to make nice with politicians.

Fighting the Reapers helped. Working with Shepard, with Tali, Ashley, and Liara, it felt a little bit like it used to, like it was them against the galaxy, but this time they had the resources and support to make a real difference. The Crucible was coming together, and after months of running errands, making threats, and gritting her teeth through negotiations, Shepard somehow managed to get every race in the galaxy to fight at their backs. Garrus didn’t know if they’d survive the final assault, but at this point he thought only an idiot would bet against Shepard.

Of course, things started to go wrong as soon as they landed on Earth. Shepard’s team fought their way through wave after wave of husks and Reapers, only to be nearly crushed by one of their own tanks, sent flying by a Reaper beam. 

He tried not to see the irony in the fact that, after so many times fearing for his life in a Mako with Shepard at the wheel, it was one she wasn’t even driving that finally managed to put him out of commission.

And now Garrus was helpless again, limping onto the Normandy while Shepard went on to the beam. He didn’t miss the fact that she hadn’t promised to come back. More than ever before, he felt useless, sitting in the med bay while the only woman he’d ever loved was facing off with whatever last defense the Reapers were throwing at her.

Garrus heard the shouts of triumph over comms when she managed to open the arms of the Citadel, then of confusion and despair when, for a few long minutes, nothing happened. He limped his way to the CIC, where Traynor was doing everything she could to get some information on what was actually happening. He waited for what seemed like hours, waited for orders, for answers. 

Then a blast of energy fired from the Crucible, and in the chaos that came in reaction, Garrus had a few glimpses of the vids from the assembled fleets.

Vids of Sovereign-class Reapers, powering down mid-attack. Vids of Reaper forces on the ground collapsing without taking a hit.

Vids of the Citadel, large chunks breaking off and falling out of orbit to the planet below. 

Even in the middle of the celebrations starting to break out, he couldn’t help but imagine Shepard on every one of those falling sections of debris, drifting through space again, but this time with no Cerberus to find and revive her.

The thoughts were harder to banish the longer they went without hearing anything, and soon people started to murmur, things about a heroic sacrifice and a noble death. And Garrus was totally, completely helpless.

Somehow he had found his way to the mess, gazing blankly into the cup of something hot someone had set in front of him. As if from a distance, he heard Liara confer with Ashley and Joker about “making arrangements.” About the memorial wall that seemed to laugh at him from its place in front of the elevator.

They put up Anderson’s name first. Ashley, as the highest-ranking Alliance member on board, putting it carefully into place in the center, under the Alliance crest. She said something about Anderson’s commitment to humanity, his tenacity fighting the Reapers, his pride in the Normandy and her crew. 

Truthfully Garrus didn’t really hear any of it. He was too busy staring at the nameplate Liara had pressed into his hands. Commander Shepard. It seemed too small to represent everything she was. Everything she used to be. Not just to him, but to the galaxy that now owed her everything. And if he did nothing else with what was left of his life, he was going to make damn sure they remembered that.

He realized that Ashley had stopped speaking, and that everyone was staring at him expectantly, with mixtures of sadness and pity on all of their faces.

He took a step forward, wiped an invisible speck of dust off of the plaque he clutched like a lifeline. No words came out when he tried to speak. But then again, he didn’t know that there were words for this, in any language.

The ship’s comm chimed to life, EDI’s voice coming over the system. “I apologize for the interruption,” she said, “but there’s something you all need to hear.” 

Garrus was opening his mouth to demand why she thought now was an appropriate time to give a status report, when he heard it: ragged breathing, distorted by interference. And a voice. One that he’d recognize anywhere, from a hundred firefights and dozens of nights spent together. “This… is Commander Shepard. Broadcasting on all channels…” her voice was weak, interrupted by hacking coughs, but it was hers and it was there. “Time… unknown. Location… unknown. Somewhere…” she drew in a long, shaky breath, “somewhere on the Citadel. Condition… not great. But alive. Repeat, I am alive.”

She repeated the same message several times, EDI leaving the comm line open as the crew went into a frenzy of activity. In just a few minutes, Ashley, Tali, and Liara were all on comms with their people, trying to pinpoint the signal, to set up a rescue team as soon as possible. One of Liara’s Shadowbroker agents got ahold of Miranda, transporting her to the best hospital facility available to wait on standby. The Quarian fleet was ready to bring in any supplies she needed to restore Shepard once again, and an Alliance emergency team was dispatched to the source of Shepard’s signal. A squadron of Turian fighters volunteered as escorts for the medical transport that would be rescuing her.

And Garrus, once again, was left helpless, not able to do a thing to speed up or assist with the rescue. The ship was too far away to make it to the Citadel quickly, their shuttles not equipped with what was needed to get her out and keep her alive. All they could do was monitor the rescuers over comm, listen to Shepard still gasping out her message, and make their way to the hospital as quickly as possible to await her arrival.

He sat with the rest of Shepard’s people in the waiting room, perched on one of the molded plastic chairs that were clearly not designed for anxious Turians. He waited as they brought her in, as Miranda and a team of surgeons did their job. They wouldn’t let him--or any non-medical personnel, for that matter--in the room, so he was forced to rely on reports that one of the doctors gave every few hours.

Extensive physical trauma, they said. Her Cerberus implants had staved off the beginnings of infection, but even the Illusive Man’s tech and Miranda’s expertise could only do so much. Broken bones, internal bleeding, lacerations from falling debris. Even with his admittedly limited knowledge of human anatomy and medicine, Garrus knew that none of what they said was good.

But this was Shepard, and so as awful as the waiting was, he believed that she would make it through this, too.

He had to believe it.

After seventeen long hours--seventeen hours of waiting, of sleeplessness, of ignoring the dextro rations someone had found for him--Miranda herself finally entered the room, still in medical scrubs. Garrus straightened in the seat, nudging Tali, who at some point had fallen asleep leaning on his arm, and waited for Miranda to speak.

The woman was more exhausted and less put-together than he’d ever seen her, with her hair in an untidy bun and dark circles under her eyes marring her flawless complexion. But she was smiling. “She’s going to make it,” she said. “It wasn’t easy, and she’ll need time to recover, but she’s awake, and she’s coherent. A few of you can go see her now, but…”

Garrus didn’t hear the rest of what she said, already halfway out of his chair by the time she spoke. He stormed through the doors to the hallway, exhaustion forgotten as he made his way to Shepard’s hospital room. One of the guards at the door almost tried to stop him, but the other--one of the women who had been stationed at the Normandy’s war room--waved him through and whispered something to her companion.

He stopped in the doorway, taking a moment to look at Shepard before she noticed him watching. She looked… tiny, in the sterile hospital bed. She was propped up by pillows, her red hair fanning out beneath her head. Nearly every bit of skin he could see was covered in either bruises or bandages, and even under her thin blanket he could make out a bulky cast on one leg.

But she was there, in one piece, and, most importantly, alive.

She turned her head at the sigh of relief he gave, smiling weakly when she saw him. The right side of her face was nearly covered by ugly scrapes and deep purple bruising, and there was a line of stitches curving from the edge of her brow to just past her cheekbone. But her eyes were as bright as ever, even with one surrounded by battered flesh. He took a few steps closer, almost afraid that a sudden movement would make her disappear.

“You look like shit, Vakarian,” she said, her voice hoarse.

He laughed at that, crossing the rest of the distance to stand at her side. And if the laugh sounded a little bit like a sob, she didn’t mention it.

“Look who’s talking, Shepard,” Garrus replied, and gently took her unbandaged hand in one of his.

“You should see the other guy.” And she was still bloodied and bruised, but the crooked, cocky way she grinned up at him was undeniably Shepard, and he practically collapsed into the chair beside her bed. She pointed at the injured side of her face. “Look,” she said, “we match.” And he laughed again, not caring that this time it was undeniably watery.

She squeezed his hand as tightly as she could--and he tried not to think about how much stronger that squeeze should’be been--and listened as he told her about what had happened after they’d parted, that the crew were all alive, all waiting to see her, that the ship was in one piece and the Reapers were disabled. She didn’t say much, seemed too exhausted to do more than smile and squeeze his hand periodically, but she was awake and clear-headed enough to listen. He rambled on about everything he could think of, and sometime between telling her that Vega had cried when they’d heard her message, though he denied it, and describing how loud Tali snored, even through her mask, she drifted off to sleep. 

He panicked for a moment when her grip on his hand relaxed, but a nurse who was monitoring her life signs assured him that there was nothing wrong, and that the sleep would do her good. Garrus refused to leave her side, even when one of her doctors tried to usher him out. But apparently someone important enough to give orders backed him up, because after a little while a Turian-style cot was brought in and set up less than a foot away from Shepard’s bed.

He stayed there, at her side, for as long as she was there, only leaving for quick showers or when his family managed to get a comm through. Even then, he made sure someone he trusted was with her, and he was never gone for more than half an hour. When the hospital staff brought in meals for her, they also brought a tray of dextro food for him. Their friends visited, a few at a time, whenever they could, bringing small gifts and stories about the beginnings of the rebuilding effort.

The galaxy still seemed to still be reeling; the Mass Relays had gone dark for about seven Earth-days in the wake of the Crucible blast, then had started come back on with no warning, one by one. Some of them had taken damage, but the relay system was on its way back to being fully operational. Most civilizations seemed to be focused on cleaning out the remains of Reaper forces and securing safe places for their people; true reconstruction of what they’d lost would take a few months to get underway.

Shepard didn’t like to talk about what she’d seen and done after entering the beam to the Citadel. But after a few days, she started opening up a little when the two of them were alone. From what they could piece together, they figured what she’d seen had been some kind of security protocol programmed into the Citadel itself, a last-ditch effort by the Reapers to turn her away from her goal. The consequences she’d feared hadn’t seemed to come true, other than the Mass Relays shutting down, but even that had been temporary. Her cybernetics were still working, EDI was still running the Normandy, and the few messages they’d gotten from Rannoch showed that the geth were still functioning and helping the Quarians reclaim their home. More than anything, Garrus wished that he’d been there to help her through her encounter with whatever the child had been, instead of waiting on the Normandy and feeling helpless.

And Garrus still felt helpless, whenever the pain medication didn’t cover the worst of her aches, or when the doctors gave each other concerned looks over Shepard’s chart. But Shepard was making progress, recovering along with the rest of the galaxy.

And Garrus was by her side, every step of the way.

[multi-fandom-oneshots]

Jesus Christ (Bucky Barnes & Darcy Lewis)

AN: So this fic is kinda dark. I was listening to a song called Jesus Christ by a band called Brand New (click here to listen) and was inspired and came up with this fic. This is probably one of my favorite things I’ve written in a long time. Please let me know what you all think of this, I’d love some feedback.

Trigger Warning: Self Harm (cutting is mentioned).  

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

“Jesus Christ that’s a pretty face, the kind you’d find on someone I could save.”

Darcy watched Barnes a lot. Whenever he was in the labs with Steve, whenever he would linger on the outskirts of the common room, his back to the wall. Darcy had always had a soft spot for the wounded. If you asked her therapist he’d say that it was because Darcy’s childhood was lacking in parental care, having a Mom who drank herself to death and a Dad that took off as soon as he saw things going south. According to Mr. Phd Darcy’s ‘inner child’ (she fucking hated that phrase) longed for someone to take care of her, therefore adult Darcy longed to give the care that she had never gotten. Darcy hated psychology with a passion.

She always wanted to approach Barnes but if she was in his shoes, she’d want to be left alone for eternity, hell she’d wanna set the world on fire and watch it burn, then hurl herself into the flames. So she figured him even making an effort to be around other people was enough for a lifetime. So she let him be, but she still watched.

“If they don’t put me away it’ll be a miracle.”

How James didn’t end up in The Raft he would never fucking know. Hell, he should've ended up dead, many times over. But here he was, with Steve, the punk never did know when to quit. Before he knew it he was crashing with Steve, in the Avengers compound of all places. All things considered he thought he was progressing well. Of course there were the nightmares, and the panic attacks, and the overwhelming urge to run, to fight, but he wasn’t the asset and that meant everything.

Steve was trying to help him, talking to him like no time had passed, like they had just stepped out of the 1940s. Sometimes it helped him, to remember something other than the bad things, and then some days it infuriated him, that Steve could act like nothing had happened, that he wasn’t a monster masquerading as a man.

“Do you believe you’re missing out? That everything good is happening somewhere else?”

Darcy never fit in, she was a squeezer. She would shape and mold herself into what she needed to be to get by. In high school she was a rule breaker, nobody fucked with the kid that had a wrap sheet. In college she was simple, basic, plain jane (no pun intended). She didn’t draw attention, didn’t do well enough in school to get recognition but didn’t do bad enough to get negative attention either. And until she met Jane, she never did have anyone that bothered to try to get to know the real Darcy.

Jane was the only real friend she had. Thor was nice, welcoming, but Darcy didn’t know him well enough to count him as a friend. Jane though, she was ride or die. Ever since New Mexico Jane had always had Darcy’s back, through thick and thin, and for that Darcy would follow her to the ends of the earth. Which is why Darcy found herself in a lab, day after day, surrounded by people that were way smarter than her, protecting the world, sometimes saving it, then there was Darcy taking up space.

Jane always told her that she was vital to the Jane Train, Darcy was the reason everything ran smoothly, the reason why Jane didn’t work herself into oblivion. But Darcy knew Jane said all of those things to make her feel better, and she appreciated the thought, she really did.

“And I, will die, all alone. And when I, arrive, I won’t know anyone.”

James woke up to the screams again, at first he thought there were the screams of his demons, but when he fully came to he realized the screams were his own. He was glad Steve was gone on a mission, he hated seeing the sadness in his best friends’ eyes whenever Steve had to wake him from a nightmare, to hold him down, fight him off so he wouldn’t hurt Steve, hurt others. His head was pounding, it always did after the night terrors. Steve would remind him that there was medication he could take to help him sleep better, to help nightmares not be so bad, but James wouldn’t take them. His mind flashed back to that day in Siberia, when Stark asked if he even remembered killing his parents, remembered “them”. And James wasn’t lying when he said he did.

He remembered every single victim, every kill. How it felt to feel their bodies cooling under his fingertips, to watch their eyes grow dull and lifeless, how they cried, begged. All those people, murdered, by his own hands, and yet here he was, alive. It wasn’t right. So he endured the nightmares, they were his punishment, his atonement.

“Well Jesus Christ, I’m not scared to die, I’m a little bit scared of what comes after. Do I get the gold chariot? Do I float through the ceiling?”

Darcy was fourteen when she started cutting. It helped her feel in control, the pain reminding her that she was alive, reminding her that she didn’t really want to die, even though it felt like she did sometimes. She had gotten better, especially over the last couple of years. But every once in a while she would add a new scar to her body. She had run out of room on her arms forever ago, since then she had moved on to her thighs. If she had been smarter she would've started there, much easier to hide.

Usually Darcy had it all put together. Sterilize, cut, cleanup. But she had been on edge today, out of control, and she hadn’t made sure she had something to bandage her leg with. Which is why she found herself in the communal kitchen at two in the morning. She knew a first aid kit was kept under the sink, as much as they got injured, Darcy thought there should be one in every nook and cranny of the compound. She found the kit, gingerly climbed onto the counter, and pulled down the top of her sweat pants, pressing gauze to the fresh cut on her thigh.

“Do I, divide, and pull apart? ’Cause my bright, is too slight to hold back all my dark.”

James watched the girl from the shadows. He hadn’t been able to sleep so he had just been wandering the halls when he heard movement in the kitchen. Once he concluded that there was no threat he had planned to turn back the way he came, but then he recognized the girl. It was the one from the labs, the one that liked to stare at him. But her stares were different than all the others he was used to. Her eyes weren’t filled with fear or hate like all the others, they were filled with sorrow.

He stared at her, watching her movements, and then he caught a glimpse of her arm in the moonlight. It was covered in scars, they criss crossed up her forearm in an intricate pattern. Then he smelled it, the blood. He closed his eyes briefly, the smell bringing back memories to the forefront of his mind. Once he had his demons under control he opened his eyes again. There was a neat line of blood on the top of her left thigh, which she was currently wrapping with elastic wrap.

“I know you're coming in the night like a thief. But I've had some time alone to hone my lying technique”

“You’re doing it wrong. It’s too tight, it’ll cut of the circulation.” a raspy voice said to her, so quite that Darcy almost thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

She looked around, trying to find out where exactly the voice had come from but she couldn’t see anyone. “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Darcy knew that response was probably stupid, but she was tired, the mania from the day had begun to dissipate, leaving her empty and drained. She watched as Barnes took a step out of the shadows, she would've been surprised that it was him if she had enough energy left to care.

“You’re bleeding.” he said matter of factly.

She snorted at that, “Yeah, I am.”

“Why?” he asked. His voice sounded odd, his words were short, like he hadn’t talked in so long he had forgotten how.

“Tripped, must have scraped a nail on the way down or something.” Darcy replied. She was used to lying about cuts. She stopped trying to come up with good lies eons ago once she figured out that no one actually gave a shit, that they just asked because it was expected of them to act like they cared.

“Liar.” the man responded.

She just grimaced at him and hopped off the counter, taking the first aid kit with her.

If James hadn’t had enhanced hearing he wouldn’t have heard her soft “yep.” as she left the room.

“I know you think that I’m someone you can trust. But I’m scared I’ll get scared and I swear I’ll try to nail you back up.”

Two weeks had passed before Barnes saw the girl again. He had tried to see her sooner, but it seemed that she and Dr. Foster had left for a conference in Berlin. He was in the TV room with Steve when she walked in, earbuds in. She was smiling, James thought that it looked nice on her.

“Steve, what do you know about Foster’s intern?” he asked as Darcy left the room, a stash of Poptarts in hand.

“Not much. Just know her name is Darcy and that she’s been working with Foster for years now. I’ve read her file but that kinda stuff is classified, and not anything anyone should have to read anyways.”

Barnes frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I really shouldn't talk about it Bucky, just forget I brought it up.”

“Aww come on punk, who am I gonna tell? The only person I talk to here is you.”

Steve’s face turned glum at that comment. “You know Buck, it doesn't have to be that way, not everyone here is afraid of you, you could socialize a bit more. I’m not pushing you though.” Steve rushed to say, hoping he hadn’t put his foot in his mouth, “I just—“ he sighed, “I just feel helpless in this whole situation.”

James clapped Steve on the shoulder. “I know pal. I’m interested in this Darcy dame though, I was thinking maybe I’d get to know her but…” He trailed off, hoping to bait Steve into telling him what he wanted to know.

“Fine, but don’t think you’re pulling one over on me, I know what you’re doing.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Darcy’s past is, umm, colorful to say the least. Her Dad left her and her Mom when Darcy was four. And by that time her Mother had already developed a serious drinking problem. Then at the age of thirteen her mom died, choked on her own vomit. So then Darcy ended up in the system, she jumped from home to home, had some trouble with the law, minor stuff; vandalism, truancy, nothing major. Once she graduated High School, she calmed down a lot, went to college, met Foster, now she’s here.”

Another week went by before James worked up the courage to approach her. He had wrestled with the idea. Why should James think he could bring some sort of comfort to this girl when he couldn’t even help himself?  But there was something about her that stuck with him, he had to at least try.

She was working in the labs late that night, filing paperwork. James made sure she was alone, for privacy. He stood in the doorway a while, just watching her work. She was humming softly, nodding her head to the music flowing through the sound system overhead.

“Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me all day?” she asked, not looking up from what she was doing.

“You’re one to talk, you stare at me all the time.” That got a small smile out of her

“Touche.”

“This music is awful.” James said, scowling at the ceiling where the offending noise was coming from.

She looked up then, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Are you serious? This is The Beatles, a global sensation. Everyone likes The Beatles, everyone. They must’ve fucked with you’re brain so bad, since you don’t even like The Beatles.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, as if by laying a hand over her mouth she could've taken back the words that had just escaped. She removed her hand, about to start spouting out an apology when James started to laugh.

“Well don’t sugar coat it doll.”

Darcy opened her mouth again and he raised his hand to stop her. 

“Don’t apologize. You’re the first person to not walk on eggshells around me, it’s nice.”

“Umm, okay.” Darcy nodded warily.

James walked over and took the seat beside her, picking up a stack of files to alphabetize. They worked in silence all night long. It was the best night he’d had in a very long time.

“So do you think that we could work out a sign? So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try.”

They spent a lot of time together after that. Darcy liked to think of it as companionable silence. They would never talk, but it was comforting, to spend time with someone and not have to deal with the exhaustion of pretending everything was alright, that you had all your shit together. She knew Barnes could tell when she had particularly bad days. On those days he’d just do little things to show he was there. Silently had her a piping hot cup of tea even though she hadn’t asked, or sneaking down to the labs to help with some of her paperwork. One time, on a particularly bad day, he grabbed her hand, squeezing lightly, just for a moment. And after the moment was over, Darcy missed the warmth his hand offered.

Darcy stopped cutting as often. She found herself seeking out Barnes rather than the razor stashed under her bed. They’d sit in silence, just being. And when she did have those moments of weakness, when she did cut, he was there too. Bandaging her up with no judgement, just gentle hands.

“I know you're coming for the people like me. We all got wood and nails We turn out hate in factories. We sleep inside of this machine.”

“You can’t fix me, ya know. I’m broken. Nothing’s gonna change that.” Darcy spoke one night as they sat together on the couch pretending to watch the muted TV in front of them.

He turned and looked at her, a sad smile on his face. “I’m not here to fix you. I just thought that maybe we could be broken, together.”

Darcy ignored the feeling that bloomed in her chest. “Yeah, okay. Together.”

[selinasinister]

okay but i love the difference in emotions, expressions, and how far vegeta has come here!!!! this might get long so feel free to scroll past my hyperfixating infodump of shit.

to start, the namek saga vegeta. unhinged, angry, hungry for blood and power. up until this saga, he's spent quite literally his entire life serving frieza. all of frieza's abuse isn't shown on screen, but we know his childhood was essentially him committing planet-wide genocides under the orders of the dictator who killed his father (who GAVE vegeta to frieza as a child) and destroyed the planet and all the people he was destined to rule. one can only imagine what that kind of upbringing can do to someone. vegeta is genuinely scared of frieza, that much is canon. but now, he's forcing down that fear and replacing it with anger and bloodlust and the damn THRILL of it all. this is a man who's feeling the rush of doing something wrong, and it feels GREAT. he's defying his lifelong abuser for the first time, and even though he's terrified, the jittery rush of power over those around him (his former associates, who canonically treated him like garbage for his race) and having control of a situation for the first time. "your loving vegeta" with that shit-eating grin is a sarcastic slap in the face to frieza that he's enjoying every minute of. anyone who's been abused can relate to the giddy feeling of powerful freedom that comes from fighting back/leaving the abuser and knowing you can get away with it. and in this moment, vegeta certainly believes he can get away with it - he almost does, by the end. but i just want to note that feeling angry to the point of mania towards your abuser is common - i myself have experienced it in the past - and i believe it's what vegeta is feeling here.

now, to resurrection f. it's been years - decades, even. we've seen vegeta grow and change for the better. he's slowly gone from a battle-hungry, affection-starved, genuinely evil, abused monster to... a man with a family. a child. allies and friends he's fought alongside with for years. he's learned to trust... he's learned to love. the effects of abuse never really goes away, but the way you look at it can change how you act. maturing and accepting that it happened, but that it's in the past, can make recovery smoother and less painful - especially if you have people who support and care about you. vegeta has MATURED. he has grown past the person he was on namek, and in the adroid saga, and even the buu saga. turning majin, experiencing that relapse, and fighting through it to sacrifice himself for the loved ones he almost killed in his bloodthirsty, manic rage... that made him realize that he HAS changed, and that it's not a bad thing. now, in walks someone he never thought he would see again. his childhood abuser who turned him into the monster he defeated. i'm sure his first instinct was to be angry, scared, fight-or-flight, relapse-! but then he stopped himself. he had a family to protect. and if beating the shit out of his old, long-dead abuser was what it took, he was ready. watching the full fight between golden frieza and vegeta was so different from watching their fight on namek. on namek, before he lost hope, vegeta was fiery, grinning with giddy rage and exhilaration. gloating to frieza and showing off. in his ssj blue form, watching him just slowly stride towards frieza, hit HARD but fast, not doing anything showoffish or dramatic, all with that serious glare... it's chilling. vegeta has gone far on the path of recovery; no gloating, no grinning, no playing. but that burning rage of an abuse victim never really leaves. his hits are powerful and merciless. look at the gifs; vegeta lets his aura DROP as he sees frieza is helpless. and that cold stare is terrifying. he delivers the line that was once part of a mocking message as if it's an execution. a serious event. the old vegeta would've been monologuing and howling with laughter at frieza's state. but this vegeta gets no joy or rush from killing or death anymore. he simply sees it as something he must do, for the good of his family and his planet... and in this case, his childhood.

[ultralifehackerguru-blog]

New Post has been published on http://lifehacker.guru/how-to-achieve-10x-results-in-2019-using-this-simple-strategy/

How to Achieve 10x Results in 2019 Using This Simple Strategy

You try.

Like all of us, you have a goal in your life you’re struggling with.

You want to get in better shape, make more money, find more clients for your business, switch careers — the list goes on.

What do you do? You set a goal. Your goal is always reasonable — work out three times a week, write 500 words a day, outline your business in the next 90 days and find one customer.

You’ve been told, “the journey of a thousand miles starts with one step,” and you try to make progress little by little, but somewhere along the line, you fall short.

What gives? You know if you just “put your mind to it” you’d accomplish your goals, but you can’t bring yourself to execute and commit long enough.

What if the problem isn’t your inability to follow through with reasonable goals?

What if your goals are too reasonable and small?

Enter the 10x rule.

Photo by Matt Ragland on Unsplash

The 10x Rule Explained

Grant Cardone, entrepreneur, and author wrote the book The 10x Rule: The Only Difference Between Success and Failure.

Here’s the rule — Take your original goal and multiply it by 10. Also, multiply your effort to achieve your goal by 10.

I know what you’re thinking…

This is just wishful thinking and macho talk.

But the 10x Rule is one of the most practical books you’ll ever read.

Some of the core ideas behind the 10x rule are:

Small goals are uninspiring — Small goals are easy to accomplish but they’re also easy to dismiss. You also don’t get much satisfaction from reaching them.

10x goals stretch your thinking and actions — The common wisdom is aiming high leads to disappointment, but this thinking is rooted in fear. Setting 10x goals and multiplying your effort 10x requires a transformation, which is what we all really want in the first place. The higher the potential payoff, the less likely you are to quit when things get tough.

Don’t reduce your target, increase action — What’s the first thing we do when stumbling toward a goal? We lower it. Instead, why not ramp up your effort? If we’re honest in these situations we’d see we’re nowhere near our effort ceiling.

Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash

Why Reaching for the Stars is Safer Than Staying on the Ground

There’s a quote from Warren Buffet that says, “When the tide goes out you’ll see who’s swimming naked.”

The 10x rule isn’t just an exercise in lofty thinking. It’s a hedge against the tightrope of average results.

There’s nothing wrong with average thinking, average planning, and average amounts of action…as long as everything goes smoothly. But as soon as situations go south, failure to set big enough targets causes massive pain.

Just look at these examples:

Most Americans grossly underestimate how much money they need to retire.

Many are living paycheck to paycheck and have no savings.

The average household has piles of debt (would you survive a repeat of 2008?)

Most businesses fail because they underestimate how much cash they’ll need to survive lean times

Almost all people with ‘revolutionary’ ideas severely underestimate how much effort it will take to execute those ideas

Living an abundant lifestyle isn’t just pleasurable, it protects you. Society emphasizes the virtue of mediocrity, but all morality aside, mediocrity is mathematically and pragmatically not good because it can all be swept away in the tide of circumstances.

You can’t just create 10x goals and make them magically happen. You have to give a 10x effort in as well. But how do you do that when taking normal levels of actions is hard?

Photo by Kid Circus on Unsplash

Massive Action = Massive Results

In the book, Grant tells the story of running one of his first businesses. He expected to do reasonably well. He wasn’t unrealistic. It would take time to earn as much through his business as he did from his former day job. He estimated he’d get back to that amount in 6 months. It turns out it would actually take years before he reached the same level of income.

He reached a point of frustration and began to lean on the crutch of excuses we’re all prone to leaning on when things go south. The market wasn’t ready for the product. The timing was off. Clients didn’t have the funds. So it goes.

Rather than quit, however, he increased his activity.

Instead of making 5 sales calls per day, he made 50.

Instead of posting social media updates twice per day, he posted twice per hour.

As the company grew, customers started to complain about the frequency of his email marketing messages. What’d he do? He decided to send messages more frequently. This turned some of his audience off, but many began to admire the hustle and his influence grew.

He had the same business idea, in the same market, with the same customer pool, and his business exploded. The only thing that changed was his effort.

Aspiring writers reach out to me a lot. They’re all frustrated with their progress. Many haven’t even written 50 blog posts yet. I shake my head. They should come to me if they’re still struggling after having written 500 posts.

This begs the question — how is the 10x rule any different from the notion of trying hard?

Photo by Kaleidico on Unsplash

The 4 Levels of Action

According to the author, we all operate at one of four levels of action:

Do nothing — Pretty self-explanatory.

Retreat — When faced with any form of resistance we back down immediately. People in retreat mode fear even beginning the journey of massive accomplishment.

Normal levels of action — You go to work and do just enough to not get fired.

Massive action — You mentally and physically go all in.

The author brings up an honest point I love. People at the first two levels aren’t really ready to take massive action in their lives.

Photo by bruce mars on Unsplash

I’ve heard this argument before — self-help in general usually works best for people who are already well-adjusted enough.

Fortunately, most of us fit into the normal level of action category and can move into massive action.

I’ll use myself as an example. I’m a pretty motivated guy. I wake up daily at 5 a.m. to write, work out three times a week, wrote two books, spoke at a TEDx conference in front of 1000+ people, and run a successful side business. By all accounts, I’m doing well and I’m grateful for how far I’ve come, but am I capable of much more? Absolutely.

As motivated and productive as I may be, I still have limiting beliefs and mental barriers that keep me from working ten times as hard to achieve ten times the results.

These days, I’m setting 10x goals and focusing on giving 10x effort because it might be the only way to see what I’m actually made of. But that comes with an emotional toll right? Life is hard. People don’t necessarily have time or energy to go 10x. How do we deal with our current realities and find a way to step up our game?

Stop Being a Little Bitch

In the audio version of the book, the author on-the-spot renames one of the chapters, “stop being a little bitch” as opposed to “stop being a victim.”

Look, setting aside issues on religion, politics, and sex, let’s just be honest for a second.

As a society, we’ve grown marshmallow soft. Slowly but surely, we’re learning to become more helpless, reliant, and downright whiny.

I can say this almost objectively — the government isn’t going to save you…hell they don’t even care about you at all.

I have my bias, of course, but it seems clear to me people have been conditioned into expecting good things to just happen and crying when they don’t.

Look, I get it. Your circumstances are quite real. No one’s saying they’re not. But at the end of the day, your life is your life and you have to live it. Your two choices are to act or don’t. And as much as being a victim gives you the weird pleasure that comes with martyrdom, you still end up somewhere you don’t want to be.

Anytime I feel sorry for myself, feel tired and weak, or feel like giving up. In essence, I tell myself to stop being a little bitch. I remind myself of the only two options I have — stay the same or act. After this internal conversation, I always do the latter.

Let’s explore some other topics from the book and explore strategies to support your new 10x way of thinking and living.

Photo by Carl Heyerdahl on Unsplash

An Unusual and Extremely Useful Way to Look at Success

“Do kids benefit when they see their moms and dads losing or quitting?”

This section of the book struck me as something I’ve never heard before.

The author says to succeed you should treat the acquisition of success as an ethical issue.

Most of us look at success as a luxury. We shrug it off with “sure, that’d be nice” types of phrasing. We look at giving the most of ourselves to our lives and the people around us as an option, not a duty.

Also, we all have a tendency to act pious and believe ourselves to be moral.You think you’re a good person because you don’t steal, commit acts of violence, or overtly cheat other people. But, if looking at the acquisition of success as an ethical issue, are you cheating yourself and others out of what you can contribute?

You probably are.

If you’re tempted to rush off and mount your high horse, remember, success means much more than a monetary reward or status. So, the argument of “I don’t care about money and status” doesn’t fly here.

Look deeply at your life…even in the way you treat your family. Are you fully present? Are you giving them your full self? Or are you physically there but not mentally because you’re preoccupied with worry or trying to drown that worry out by tuning out?

The point of treating success as an ethical problem isn’t to beat yourself up for not having a million in the bank. The point is actually to humble you by realizing that doing just enough isn’t something to be proud of.

You’re alone reading this. Have that conversation with yourself. Are you making success a duty or are you bullsh**ing yourself?

You know the answer…

Adopt This Attitude

“Think about it: What’s the worst thing that can happen to you if you just totally go for it?”

I entered a competition against 23 other speakers for a chance to give a talk at a TEDx conference. I’d been in a Toastmasters club for less than six months. I had no reason to believe they’d chose me. But I figured, “Why not? The worse thing that could happen is they say no. That’s it.”

When I write a new book, I spend a few thousand dollars to produce it. The worst thing that could happen? I lose a few thousand bucks — not a ton of money in the grand scheme of things. Plus, I can’t sell negative books — I know the downside.

I make these little bets on my future all the time. And the worst case scenario is usually just getting my feelings hurt and ego bruised. But we’re emotional creatures and the fear of failure and rejection can be too much to bear.

What about you? What imaginary ghosts are you battling now?

If you went all in on that idea lingering in your mind, really, what’s the worse thing that could happen?

You don’t need a loan from the bank to start a business anymore.

You don’t have to put your family at risk to start a new venture or find a new career — you can always use your spare time.

There usually isn’t a great answer to “Why not?” is there? Just fear. Always fear.

Here’s what I know. If you do fail, there won’t be a giant crowd to witness it. Others aren’t paying as much attention to you as you think they are. Also, human beings have the amazing ability to recover from setbacks. Think of a time that felt bad in the moment but barely registers with you now.

I’ve failed at many different things. It felt bad then. But now I think, “Eh. It was still worth the effort.” Then I move on.

I’m no different than you. I just act before I’m ready — and the secret is you’re never really ready.

10X The Quality of Your Life

I never seek to judge. I’m not the type to admonish anyone for how they live. My goal is to get you to think for yourself and make observations that help you change.

But let’s just call a spade a spade. There is such a thing as being mediocre. By way of pure numbers and comparison, some people are just in the middle.

I know from experience that being in the middle is one of the most dangerous places you can be — it’s also the riskiest.

Who got hit hardest by the financial crisis? The middle.

Who is a few health scares or negative financial windfalls from being destitute? The middle.

Who gets put on the chopping block when a company downsizes? Average mid-level management.

At least at the bottom, you have aid, support, and assistance. At the top — at 10x levels — you’re constantly prepared for the future and always taking action, so you know you’re ready for whatever the future brings.

In the middle, you’re most susceptible to the rug being pulled from underneath you.

From a purely pragmatic and practical viewpoint, it seems like escaping the middle should be a priority.

You may not be able to 10x your income, but you can 10x your creativity, energy, and effort.

You can 10x the standards you have for yourself.

The core idea of the 10x rule is this — You are nowhere near the universe of what you’re capable of.

Maybe going 10x isn’t the key to everything you want in life, but underestimating your capabilities is the key to not getting it.

I’ve never looked at success in terms of just status, money, or otherworldly measures. The level of effort you exert to become successful turns you into a better version of yourself.

Become a better version of yourself for the sake of becoming a better version of yourself.

(C)

[asami-sonofthedragon-ryuichi]

Dark side of Bright memories.

A 6 year old boy having a little sister, always following him around, here and there. not once he was annoyed by such an act, nor he complained, she was all he has, as his playmate, his little partner, and someone whom he calls his best friend. to share stories with and toys. she was adorn by their mother, more than himself, not once he felt jealous or wished to be in her place, where she’s loved more by their mother and not him.  Ever since Ravus was a child he knew Lunafreya was meant to be an Oracle and he, the protector to the Oracle, and at this point he would give whatever it takes to keep her safe. the two was told the stories of old and astral all along as they grew up. Queen Sylva was in position to rule their land Tenebrea with a little Prince Ravus and Princess Lunafreya.  Ravus never meant to be a king in a place of his mother, since only women was granted the powers of God as an Oracle. thus he never wished nor he thought about it that way. He loved his mother and little sister Lunafreya with complete sincerity.  Even when he knew that he was not really wanted by his own family. Lunafreya is too naive to understand all this. And what for he thought to himself, he never meant to take any part in everything his mother was chosen for or later his sister, what’s the reason for him to be born in this home of Oracle? as a protector, yes this is his task, and so he shall stick with it till the end. But this doesn’t change the fact that he also, wanted to be loved same as his younger sibling, when their mother gives all her time and efforts to her younger child, and prepare her to bring the best within her, because she expected her to grow, Pure, kind, and far from the darkness of this world, as she was to take her mother’s place in future as an Oracle. and so at this point Ravus was being neglected, and abandoned, in many situations in his life as a child, when mother’s attention was lean towards to the one she always desired to have who would take her place and make her proud. Ravus doesn’t even have powers alike them. 

Most of the times he felt left alone, he learned not to explain himself, never to speak of his situation or emotions to anyone, many times he felt as if he’s been shut out, he’s caught by many insecurities, as if his mother never wanted him and loved him. to clear these all confusion he never spoke to his mother even once, he thought he will only bring disturbance and make things even worse. thus he learned to conceal, and many times pushed away all his emotions and brings himself to stay normal as he meant to be as a Protector, and fulfill his task. he smiles when his mother’s around as a sign of that he’s okay, and kept his younger sibling safe under his watch, Wholeheartedly he loved them both, they are the only family left for him he calls Home.  Until the Events when Niflheim attacked Tenebrea, his home was set on fire and flames, 16 year old boy, facing death, in front of him a soldier from the Empire, was about to stab him, he knew he would die, and there is no where he can run to, or call anyone for help, he accepted that his time is ends here, not much thought came through his mind, fear, He shivers as his body feels the chills of the wind even flames surrounded him, it burns his eyes but he can’t take his eyes off of the man standing with a sword. is it too late? or it’s not reality he breaths in? he was too close to death, his arm’s injured as it’s bleed, Ravus felt this pain, but more than that, as if his heart gets numb and he can’t bring himself to think anything else as if he waits for the man to move and stab him to death.  As a female shadow covered Ravus’ and he laid his eyes on her, what he sees, his beloved mother shielding him against the Soldier who’s about to stab and kill Ravus, arms open as she’s begging him to take her life instead and spare her child, Ravus’ eyes wide open in disbelief as he couldn’t bring himself to believe that his mother’s willing to give up on her life to save him, Her back is all what he sees, in no time the Soldier without wasting a moment, stabbed Queen Sylva, as those flames covered both their presence and she met her death right before her son, and Ravus, he was there to see this, so helpless, so vulnerable, he was victim of that situation, more or less, he was lived to her sacrifice, and his most precious one met her fate, he could not even imagine as he was froze in shock and blank within him for a moment.  Woke up Ravus, after those moments of living nightmares, he tried to wake her up, as if she would from her sleep, 16 year old looked around, all he sees people running away, saving their lives, and some of them were killing one another, the place was became a living hell, he plead, and begged people around him to help him and his mother, what else to do the young child at such a moment, he called out King Regis for help, who was, too, Running and escaping with his 8 year old son Noctis, but what he was to see, Lunafreya his sister let go the hand that was to save her, Regis’ and stopped running away she only watches them to leave as Regis calls out her name out loud but she runs to her mother and brother. 12 years old Lunafreya, quickly rushed her steps towards Ravus and all she saw was Ravus crying as his tears shed upon the dead body of Queen Sylva, their beloved mother, Ravus looked up at his sister and lets out his grieves, and blaming Regis for this abandonment and betraying, they came to their land and when time comes to help, Regis ran away like a coward. he said to Lunafreya, while he holds her waist hugging her in despair, breaking down in tears both the siblings. Left alone the two, Mother was gone she died before their eyes and so is the Oracle, their Home was taken away, they were the victims to see that, Ravus have spent more time with his mother than Lunafreya, as he was older than her. the moment his mother died, he bring himself to believe that she did loved him, those insecurities were vanished in an instant as he finally could see the truth, but why? why this all has to happen now? why he must get his answer in such a horrible way? why this Love makes him feel so sick, it’s filling him with hatred and anger, why people lie? why they wasn’t there to help him, why they abandoned him, betrayed him, what’s wrong he has done to them, or his beloved mother. he begged he plead yet he met such a bloody fate. they were loved and appreciated by people and everyone around them. was it all a lie? was it all fake in what he has lived till now? Yes, when you have everything, thus everyone seem to appreciate you because you have something they want, and the moment you are without everything, they turn their back on you. this is what it’s like, and the only truth he must believe from now on.  And thus his heart became stone, the warm welcoming young boy turns into bitter as his heart was caught by vengeance and flames of hatred. the only person he must consider of his own is Lunafreya, he wouldn’t let her to meet the same fate as their mother did. no matter whatever it takes. and what of those nightmares he has each night he falls into sleep? he can never overcome those events he had to confront as a child. even after those abuses and treatments the both younger siblings received by Niflheim after they took over their home, place of their mother. Took over the title of him being Prince and His sister’s as a Princess. everything was taken away from them.  Ravus cannot forget nor forgive, what they did to him and his little sister, even if it means to become a part of those enemies, who killed their mother than he would, to keep his sister safe and sacrifice his life for her. but he won’t let her get away in the hands of those traitors. Niflheim is the only life he has left, and his sister Lunafreya was the only reason to keep going in this life of misery where no one’s deserve his mercy. Once an angel, has fallen into darkness, and over all those years, he has unleashed as a ruthless, merciless Devil.   

[pax-deimos]

(jamie campbell bower ) ・゜。・。・゜ pax deimos who is the child of pain is 23 years old and grew up on the isle. they didn’t have magic before the charmings gained the throne, and now they’ve noticed they can disappear. they use he/they pronouns and are demisexual (polyamourous). i wonder how they’ll handle their new magic….

Carrying the actual name Halphax but far preferring to use the nickname ‘Pax’, there are really only a handful of people who know it’s not a given name. Even fewer know that the nickname comes from the sister and her pronouncing parts of it wrong when she was learning to speak.

Pax did not grow up in any sort of luxury, like most of the kids from the Isle the first in life being nothing was fair, and second that anything a person wanted they had to be smart enough to grab for themselves. The only real ease in the misery were parents who actually cared and a few true friends to count on. That home was still at best a mess though, even by Isle standards.

Being raised in dire straights Pax has a hang-up when it comes to food and grows uneasy when hungry, loves to eat; somehow that metabolism keeps up with the extremes but very often in the habit of eating when stressed. Very wary of not be able to keep that ache at bay, it’s something of an old fear from childhood. That has translated to being rather good at cooking however, with an impressive amount of skill in the idea.

One of the hardest points in life for Pax was the loss of their younger sister Lezabel due to the difficult life on the Isle and the terrible conditions. She died shortly after Pax turned thirteen, being only six herself, from sickness that Pax knows could have been easily treated outside the Isle. There was no way for the family to reach out for help beyond that prison at the time, however. Losing her left a deep scar and a bitterness towards those with power over the lives of others, those who have never tasted the ache of feeling so helpless being unable to save someone who was guilty of nothing more than being born under a family name considered ‘evil’.

Pax disappeared around the age of fifteen, hellbent on the idea that not being there would make everything better for the family with one less person to look after and still unable to shake the recent loss. There was a huge amount of difference between surviving with the protection of a family and surviving alone, however, as they quickly learned. Upon returning, long months later, the family was more than happy but Pax wasn’t the same after that; more confident but also more grateful for those who cared.

On the subject of family, Pax’s parents have always adored them. Pain, having never been known as more than Hades’ minion, is exceedingly proud of Pax for never taking that easier route instead of being independent. One of the reasons Pax struggles so much with anger towards the royal families is knowing how much misery and degrading treatment Pain suffered, and being determined to never see that happen again.

Pax is a master manipulator, knows how to throw on the false charm and flash a winning smile, then dig claws into anyone foolish enough to trust those intentions. Knows how to get what they want and when something is in reach there isn’t much to stop that effort; Pax learned far too well how to play the game of letting someone else take the fall. Acting the part of minion is easy enough when you know how to feed the boss’ ego and let them think they’re in charge, but running the show behind the scenes is where Pax really shines.

Loyalty is something that is practically iron with Pax. Incredibly difficult to gain because it does have to be earned, they do not offer it easily. It’s very easy to forge weak bonds and false promises but real loyalty is reserved for a very few. Pax really only fully bonds with those closest to them, and bonds excessively and with an almost fixated affection towards them. In spite of all the rough edges, when it comes to friends Pax is a surprisingly good one, playful at times but deeply compassionate and devoted to those they care about.

Not exactly what most would call a moral person, Pax is without a doubt a follower of whims and chasing desires. Much of life is about pushing the limits, striving for the impossible and gaining everything. When in the company of people on even ground they’re happy to share the blame but if it’s a matter of having someone of higher standing there to take the blame that’s where it will land. There’s something deeply satisfying in knowing that the sort of treatment Pain suffered as a minion to higher powers can be paid back bit by bit in tripping up those who would try to rule over others.

One of the few exceptions to the rule of breaking down the higher ups would be Hades’ son; the boy has always treated them like a friend rather than a minion and that has forged a deep and strong friendship between them. Pax is always quick to pull Hadie along into wayward plans but will turn around and viciously defend him if things go wrong. The only other person who holds as much close regard to Pax is their ‘uncle’ Panic’s son Zeffer, whom they consider a counterpart in lofty goals and other half of sorts.

Pax is extremely clumsy, it’s hardly a normal day that doesn’t end it with a few bruises and cuts along the way. All of life that affliction has followed and a seemingly natural talent for injury as well, so much that Pax has learned to ignore the small aches and such that goes with it. Stubborn to a fault about that, better to grin and bear it than show weakness.

A recent discovery, magic, where as they never had any before now Pax has a fledgling ability to disappear. Since only beginning to use this talent, and frankly uses it mostly to sneak up and scare people, it can be unpredictable. It pops up at random, usually when Pax is upset, which then causes a panic worse not being sure of how to be visible again. When they panic that much generally Pax has to be talked down, otherwise they can’t calm down enough to get a hold back on the power. They’re actually deeply afraid of entirely disappearing one day, but refuses to admit it to most people.

Being quite the liar by design, and amusement, any story Pax tells might change at any given time. Most people who know them have figured out how to tell when it’s some trick but Pax is shamelessly entertained by crafting the most outlandish tales and exaggerating things to a point well beyond any logical belief.

Pax carries a chip on their shoulder over the fact that Pain wasn’t a ‘proper’ demon and rather an imp. Pax does love their dad but is not too fond of the idea of just being an imp and has goals of finding some sort of magic that will make them not only a demon, but a full demon with real powers like possession and shadow manipulation. Don’t point out that Pax is an imp, it’s very likely to get someone punched in the face.

Early on in life Pax came to the conclusion that they didn’t fit the typical idea of gender. Very often felt neither extreme and at times both very strongly, but there was never much desire to sort out the logic of pronouns and such. Pax uses agendered by default but is for the most part non-binary, just as apt to play with gender roles and ideas than not any given day without much regard to what other people might think.

It’s no more odd to Pax to flirt with either gender, but is distinctly set on the idea of not sharing their bed with just any stranger they might have caught the eye of. Pax is demisexual and polyamorous, but tends to stick to the idea of intimate contact with friends only without trying to sort out the romantic notions to things. Pax loves their friends, they’re playmates and partners in crime, and that’s about as close to the idea of relationships as Pax can really grasp.

There is an ongoing project, since childhood when Pax first came to the conclusion that one day they would leave the Isle behind and find their own fate, that Pax has worked tirelessly on. It’s The List, otherwise known as ‘The List of People Pax Will One Day Destroy’ and has been re-written endless times in an old notebook stashed away. Littered with notes and names, and sometimes just titles of people never met but somehow use their power to keep those like themself in misery, it’s a delusional security blanket of sorts that Pax buries into when feeling overwhelmed; a nice little focus for frustrations in life.

It’s very true that Pax has some sadomasochistic tendencies and views a little bit of edge in life as interesting. Pax finds that pain, perhaps because of their own linage, is one of those purest sensations in life. To suffer for another person is a very worthwhile thing, something only granted to those worthy of trust entirely, to suffer for a cause makes it all the more important. Pax operates entirely on the lines of willing victims, unless of course they’re out on the trail of some enemy, so for Pax it truly is all fun and games, and maybe even a little of their own version of twisted affection.

[thomas-ward]

Parting Words // self-para

After a conversation with both Jocelyn and Serena, after months suffering in a hell plagued with the deepest evils, after watching the woman he loved the most tortured at the hands of his elder brother, it was finally decided. Thomas sent contact to SHIELD for an extraction and it wouldn’t be long now before agents scoured the base. Freedom never tasted any closer than it did in that moment. He was ready to leave with both women on each arm, but there were a few scores he needed to settle first. 

Grant pushed open the doors to his penthouse and found a lovely surprise in the form of his young brother, seated behind his desk with his feet propped up and a peculiar expression gracing his features. He hadn’t expected to see the man for quite some time after Serena’s torture so it was logical if the unusual behavior had anything to do with closure brought about from temporarily killing her. The two brothers were enveloped in a silence as Grant slowly stepped further into the room until Thomas chose to shatter it. “I remember the first time I came here, Grant. I was scared, a little lost, unsure of my surroundings.” The other man lifted a smile as he responded. “I hope I’ve at least made you comfortable here. It’s not to say you didn’t adjust quicker than I ever thought, though.” Grant paused. “Like to think you made a few friends.”

“I made a few friends, all right.” A smirk twitched at the side of Thomas’ mouth. “Tell me, Grant, how much faith do you have in your agents? In the organization itself? I’m assuming you pride yourself knowing everyone here follows your every order without question even if some fear you. A leader’s got to rule with an iron fist in order to get things done, right? Desperate times call for desperate measures and, well, I was pretty desperate.” Grant couldn’t help giving him a confused look. “Mind telling me what this is about, Thomas, or are you planning to talk in riddles while I do the guess work?” Thomas simply smiled, dropped his feet to the floor, and placed his hands flat on the surface of the desk as he slowly rose from the chair. “You were so willing to welcome me with open arms that it was just too easy. Playing the brother in need, lying my ass off, acting like a heartbroken fool who had no one else to turn to, pretending I wanted to be your family again. You opened the door and I just walked right in.”

The confusion flooded Grant from his head to his toes and he found himself clenching his teeth as he spoke. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your blinding stupidity.” Thomas placed a hand over his chest in a mocking manner and pouted before dropping the guise entirely. “Let me tell you the story of your downfall, Grant, and how you let your vulnerable little brother infiltrate an organization stuffed to the brim with an unfathomable arrogance. There was a point during Hydra’s first big reveal and that day you first visited me where I experienced something so extraordinary, something so strong, that took away any helplessness I once had. I was finished rolling on my back and taking it while I ran, I was finished watching Hydra slaughter innocents in their path to power, and I was finished having fear for a brother who wouldn’t stop injecting himself into my life no matter where I turned. So, I figured, if I wanted to save the ones I cared about, I had to tear Hydra from the inside. And can you guess what made me different from the other agents, Grant?” Thomas stepped from behind the desk and took a few steps closer towards his brother. “Can you guess what let me slip through the cracks without even trying? All it took was the blood flowing through my veins. That was my advantage...and you snagged the bait, big brother.”

Throughout the entirety of Thomas’ confession, Grant remained silent and dug his nails into his palms from clenching his fists hard enough to almost draw blood. If it were anyone else he caught acting as a traitor, anyone else who stood before him, he would have taken out the gun from his belt and shot that person in the head. No trial, just Grant acting as judge, jury, and executioner. Yet, the man who committed unforgivable treason wasn’t just a random agent SHIELD sent to break down Hydra. This was his little brother, the boy he tried protecting from the hands of Christian and the horrors that were the backyard well. “How could you do this to me? Thomas...after everything I’ve done for you.”

“No.” Thomas immediately shook his head. “No, you don’t have the right to act like you’re the victim here when I spent god knows how many years tormented under your thumb. And I quit playing that role the minute I decided I needed to cut off every head of Hydra. It’s something you should’ve seen coming a long time ago and I am not going to be here around long enough to hear your petty excuses. I might have pitied you in the past and maybe there was a part of me that thought you acted this way because you felt too much, but I don’t feel sorry for you, Grant.” There was no need to keep up the facade now that every secret spilled out like a dam’s walls breaking. “Oh, and in case you were wondering, I had help on the inside. I mean, really, it’s just...it’s just amazing how a single promise of freedom could motivate someone.” A flash of confusion sparked the leader’s expression before the sudden realization dawned on him. “Jocelyn.” Of course the little bitch would stab him in the back. That he would have seen coming a mile away if he hadn’t been so blindsided by Thomas’ own betrayal.

“Jocelyn.” Thomas repeated the name. “A couple months here, I found out, weren’t really anything compared to what she had to endure for years while you treated her like a mutant punching bag forcing her to resurrect anyone you saw fit. Guess you should’ve killed her when you had the chance, right?” 

“Thomas,” A screeching alarm immediately blared before Grant could get a word out, a sound so deafening that it felt like the equivalent of needles piercing his skull almost made Thomas cover his ears to block out the noise. He knew the meaning of that sound and judging from the look on Grant’s face, so did he. “What did you do?” Grant spoke slowly. 

“What do you think I did? I called extraction.” Thomas moved a few paces closer to his brother and slipped on a smile. “Any minute now, there are going to be agents barging down your door and ripping this place apart corner to corner because of the intel I gave them. Jo, Serena, and I are going to walk out of here and find the true happiness the three of us deserve while you get nothing...just like you deserve. This is what I call revenge being a nasty bitch.” Thomas moved to walk right past him as he threw his brother’s words back in his face before Grant reached out to grip his arm.”Every action I have ever taken has been for you, Thomas. You might not believe it, I never expected it of you, but I tried. You are still my brother.” Thomas yanked his arm from the other male’s grasp and replied coldly, “You should’ve thought of that before you tortured Serena. Lying to you, going undercover, wasn’t my greatest lie, but you know what was? ‘I can’t be in love with a monster like her.’ Thomas quoted himself, a flashback to the first time he arrived at Hydra. “Even after all the bullshit being away for this long, I’m still deeply in love with Serena. I loved her when I said I didn’t, I loved her when I left, and I loved her with each stab you administered. Having someone who would do just about anything for you isn’t a weakness, Grant, it’s strength. And it’s something you will never have.” Thomas tore his gaze away as he traveled towards the door, feeling his brother’s eyes follow him. “I hope you’re prepared to tell your agents exactly whose fault it was allowing the mole into the base. You just might find they won’t appreciate a leader with a soft spot for his brother cost them everything.”

Thomas pulled open the doors and swiveled around partially. “I also want you to know, Grant, that if I ever see your face again, if I ever see you anywhere near Jo or Serena...I won’t hesitate to kill you. That is my promise I will have no problem sticking to. Enjoy reaping everything you have sown.” Hoping that is the last thing he would have to say to his elder brother, Thomas vanished for good.