#cut in the middle of that move too so that shot of that section was interrupted by the cut :/

[ennuijpg]

unless they release a rly good 4k fancam or stage cam there is simply no chance i am giffing anything from that aside from sungho's ending fairy (cute btw), the combo of the bad resolution + bad camerawork + rly bright background screen + the white fits,,,,,i just know it would be atrocious to deal with in ps and i love myself too much for that

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!

author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.

“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.

“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.

Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”

“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.

He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.

“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”

You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.

“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”

A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.

“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”

Me, too, he thinks.

Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.

“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.

“Three! Two! One!”

A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.

“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.

You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.

“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.

“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.

“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.

You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.

His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.

Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.

You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.

“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”

Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.

“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”

You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.

Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.

"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."

You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.

"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."

"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."

"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"

He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.

"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.

"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.

"The number of times ain't just one."

"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."

He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."

"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.

"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."

You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.

"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.

"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.

Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.

The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.

At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.

“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”

“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”

Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”

“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”

“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.

After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.

He counts that as a win.

He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.

“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.

He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.

You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.

“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.

“Would you…want to come inside?”

Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”

You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.

“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”

“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.

He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”

“‘Bout what?” Joel asks.

“You.”

“You got a report card ready for me already?”

“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.

You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”

Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”

“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”

“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”

“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe.”

Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.

“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”

You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.

You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”

A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.

You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.

Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.

“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.

“That feel good?” You ask.

“Uh huh.”

You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.

You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.

“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.

You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.

“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”

You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”

“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.

“That was nothing.”

Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.

“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”

“Or?” He asks.

“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”

You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.

Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”

Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.

“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”

“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”

He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.

“Do you have to get going?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Not even close, darlin’.”

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[oneforthemunny]

shot through the heart |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: eddie and you make a bet playing darts one night at the hideout. loser gives the other head.

contains: sexual themes 18+ MINORS DNI. oral male rec, a little fem rec at the end. overall filth.

Eddie sat at the bar, still in black but not in his usual work attire. Joey had agreed to let Corroded Coffin play tonight, a Thursday night slot, but the crowd was bigger than the usual Tuesday. Drunk teenagers with their fakes screaming and dancing over pitchers of beer, to drunk middle aged couples dancing on the sticky dance floor- Eddie wasn't quite sure why they were two stepping to his metal music, but he was fine with it. At least they were engaged and having fun, no pity claps or eye rolls like the Tuesday crowd gave him.

And the best part? There behind the wooden half circle bar, slinging beers, peanuts, collecting tips and taking orders, stood you. In your hair pulled back to he could see your pretty face. He could see you blush when he pointed at you, singing a vulgar, suggestive lyric into the mic. He'd be lying if he said his song writing skills hadn't gotten better since being with you, you were the main inspiration for the crowd favorite original song 'Super Soaker'.

Joey had given them the stage until midnight, when all the shows ended and the bar started to settle until last call. Eddie finished twenty minutes after, an encore from the middle aged woman who kept shoveling tips in jar and screaming out more requests. How could Eddie deny her?

He packed his things in the van, joining his band mates at the bar, where you had pulled up high chairs to the end, just for them. "VIP section, right this way, rockstar." You purred, a dazzling smile that had Eddie weak at his knees, when you pointed to the end.

You brought them rounds of beers and celebratory shots, talent was always on the house. "You guys did so good!" You cheered, setting down the shots of Jameson in front of them.

"Thanks, baby," Eddie grinned. "Couldn't have done it without my main muse." He winked, the guys snickering around him.

You rolled your eyes despite the blush that heated your cheeks. "Well, let me know if I can get you anything, ok? I'll make sure my service is up to your superstar standards." You quipped, brow raising teasingly,

Eddie's eyes trailed on the sway of your hips, dick jumping at the thought. He felt electrified, buzzing and jittery with post show adrenaline. The last time he'd played, he'd told you to go on your break, fucking you outside on the back wall, leaving you to go back to work on shaky legs, panties filled with his release for the rest of your shift.

The boys recounted their night, desperate girls crowding them, eyes wide and sugary sweet compliments that had Jeff nervous laughing, flustered and melting at the attention.

Not Eddie, he was too busy watching you, thinking about all the ways he'd have you when you got off. "For song inspiration, of course, baby." He'd always say, like he had to convince you anyways. You'd do anything he wanted.

The bar died down before last call around two, everyone drunk and tired, fumbling out to hook up or pass out. Eddie looked over, Gareth and Jeff had moved into the corner booth with two girls, desperately trying to woo them. Eddie scoffed, shaking his head, pressing the bottle to his lips.

You wiped down the bar, smiling and thanking a leaving customer with your perfect, polite tone. No wonder the Hideout thought you were their golden girl, you were. You were Eddie's too, the closest he'd get to a garden of Eden he was sure.

"Can I get you anything else, rockstar?" You grinned, elbows pressing against the bar, leaning across the sticky wood towards him. His eyes trailed down to your low cut Hideout shirt, a t-shirt you'd cut to make sexier- better for tips.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. "Hey, Ellen," He called to the manager behind the bar, picking up receipts. "Can I borrow this one for a sec?"

Ellen shrugged, looking at Valerie, the other bartender. Valerie smiled at you, waving her hand. "I got it," She reassured, motioning to the two stragglers at the bar, hunched over their booze and dazing off.

You thanked her, pushing through the low side door of the bar. "Just call for me if you need anything, Val." You said, looking at Eddie expectantly. "How can I be of service?" You asked playfully, low, batting your eyes up at him.

Eddie's cock lurched, tight and uncomfortable against his ripped jeans. He smirked, tongue rolling over the inside of his cheek.

Eddie nodded over to the dart board. "You played before?" He asked, but he knew the answer.

Of course you'd played before, you and him rotated from the pool tables to the dart boards on slow nights when it was just the two of you.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. "No, never," You said sarcastically, bumping your hip to his. "Will you show me?" You flirted.

Eddie grit his teeth, salacious grin looking down at you. "C'mon," He slipped his hand in the back pocket of your jeans, smirking at your squeal. "Let's play a few rounds."

The two of you took turns throwing the arrows towards the worn and battered bullseye. You extended your arm, lining it up down the top fin, just like Eddie taught you. His chest swelled with pride when he watched you, nose scrunched in concentration, one eye shut before sending it sailing, flying towards the center.

Eddie clapped, smiling at you. "Good throw," He said, picking up his own darts. He was red, you were green; always.

"Wanna make this more interesting?" Eddie asked, looking around carefully, his voice dropping as he lined up his own shot.

You smirked, leaning against the table with already stacked chairs. "Yeah?"

"Let's make a little wager, how's that sound?" Eddie asked smugly, sending his own dart sailing and sticking against the black outer ring of the bullseye. "You up for a little challenge?"

You scoffed, air blowing out your nose with a shake of your head. "What're you thinking? Gonna bet all my tips or something?" You teased.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Like I would ever." He muttered, sending another dart sailing, then eyes locking with you. "Just a little bet to make things interesting, hm?"

You lifted a brow, waiting for his proposition. Eddie took a step closer to you, crowding you. "Three rounds. Loser gives the other head." His eyes were dark, shining in a way that had a cold tingle spilling up your spine, thighs clenching.

Your lips twisted, biting back a grin, but you knew he saw it anyways. "Hm, I guess I could afford to bet that much." You matched his playful banter. You picked up your green darts, the tips brown and rusted. "You first?"

Eddie shook his head, bowing dramatically in front of the worn and faded black duct tape 'x' on the ground. "Never. Ladies first."

You stepped on the mark, right foot forward, shifting your weight from your back leg to your front as you lined up your shot, sending it flying, landing on the cushiony material of the target on the second ring, the black slice under the 'twelve'.

You grinned smugly, spinning and stepping out of the way to record your score on the napkin while Eddie lined up his own. Round after round went by, you won the first one with ease- Eddie blamed the shots you'd given him. Eddie won the second by just a few points, grinning smugly.

Ellen and Valerie had gathered by you two, leaning over the rail and watching you intently play. The bar had cleared out before last call, just the sound of the buzzing equipment and the soft playing of the jukebox.

"Oh!" Valerie and Ellen cheered when you landed on the outer ring of the bullseye, dangerously close to the center.

"Wow, not looking good Munson." Ellen joked with a grin. "Hope you didn't wager anything too big."

Eddie's eyes flashed to your knowingly, your skin blistering under his gaze. "Nah, nothing too bad." He smirked, lining up his own shot, heavy boots on the mark.

You drooled as his shirt rode up, showing his inked tummy, hips, the outline of his boxers. He'd discarded his leather jacket, torn and covered in badges, earlier into the game. He knew you liked watching his muscles flex, veins protruding in his forearms under the sketched skin

His tongue poked out in concentration, looking down the slope of his nose before the dart went sailing, landing on the board with a solid 'thud!' and sinking into the worn foam. Eddie turned, smug smile on his face that he was trying to hide, twisting his lips to the side, but you saw how his eyes lit up. Your eyes flickering from his back to the board, red marked dart right in the middle; bullseye.

"Motherfucker..." You muttered, hands on your hips as Valerie and Ellen howled in laughter, clapping and cheering.

"Oh! That was too good!" Valerie cackled. "Time to pay up, girl. Hope it wasn't all your tips from tonight." She winked at Eddie.

You pouted playfully, exaggeratedly to Eddie. "I don't know how but you cheated." You pointed a finger at him.

Eddie laughed. "How?" He shook his head, curly tendrils bouncing with the movement. "Don't be a sore-loser, baby. You lost." He grabbed your waist, making you whine and squirm against his fingers, desperate to hide your smile and keep up your pouty facade.

"Don't you know you're supposed to let the pretty girls beat you, Munson?" Ellen shook her head playfully.

Eddie scoffed. "Where's the fun in that?" He grinned, smacking a kiss to the side of your head. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't count my winnings here. We can settle up back at home." He winked at you, leaving you throbbing and dizzy with what's to come.

Eddie stayed to walk the three of you out, opening the door to his van, smacking your ass playfully when you passed him to climb in. Eddie ducked in, kissing you hard, sloppy and needy. You could taste the whiskey on his breath still.

Eddie started the van, hand on your headrest when he pulled out, snaking his hand down to squeeze your cheeks together. "You ready to pay up when we get home?" Eddie smirked.

You blushed, turning your head to hide how flustered he made you, but he didn't miss the way your thighs squeezed shut at his words. "I still think you cheated." You jested, eyes rolling over to him.

Eddie scoffed, hand on your thigh, running his hand up the soft denim of your jeans, pinky trailing dangerously close to your core, leaving you shivering. "Psh, I won fair and square, sweetheart." He looked at you knowingly.

Twenty minutes later you were on your knees at Eddie's trailer, scratchy, green carpet rubbing uncomfortably against your knees. Eddie stripped you the second you walked in, clothes scattered and thrown in all directions, until you were naked, bare in front of him.

He sat on the couch, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, thick thighs spread with his cock angry and flushed against his belly, tip leaking and smearing onto his happy trail.

"Pay up, baby." Eddie grinned, taking a rather long exhale, embers crackling and falling from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours, stroking himself lazily.

He reached out for your hand, spitting a fat glob onto your palm, before leaning back, nodding towards his throbbing cock. You pumped him slow at first, squeezing his shaft with just the right amount of pressure, spreading his spit all over his cock. Thumb spreading and rubbing small circles over his head, gathering the leaking release to spread down his cock with every flick of your wrist.

Eddie watched you through heavy, half lidded eyes, flicking his ash into the tray, free hand reaching to wrap around your ponytail, falling and messy from your shift. You looked at him when you shimmied forward, eyes locking with him while you licked a strip on the underside of his cock, swirling your little tongue around his head.

Eddie swallowed hard, trapped moan in his throat, clenching his thighs and hips to keep from bucking at the sensation, especially when you cupped his sac, squeezing it just right, his cock throbbing and lurching when you swallowed him.

Your eyes stayed on him, trained to his face- just like he taught you. How he liked it. Eddie wanted to kiss you, cover you in sweet kisses and praises, and he would've if you weren't making him feel so good. He would later, when he worked you open with his tongue until you cried, pathetic and whiny at his mercy.

"Fuck, baby, yes, just like that," Eddie rasped, bumming the cigarette into the tray. His free hand cupped your hollowed cheek, eyes lust blown and meeting yours. "Good girl. Such a good girl f'me, aren't you?"

You moaned at his praise, vibrations sending electricity through his cock straight to his tummy where the pleasure had been building. Eddie sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, jaw gritting to keep from thrusting into the back of your throat.

"Go a little further. Yeah, sit up just a little higher, and- oh!" Eddie groaned, loud and head falling back. The kind of moans that you only heard in the X-rated films he'd rent and the two of you would watch together. Exaggerated, deep, and encouraging, leaving you blushing and determined. You wanted to hear that again, and again, and again for the rest of your life; make him feel good for the rest of your life.

You could feel your slick spreading between your thighs, achy and desperate for relief, to be touched. You clenched, shifting the heel of your foot as best as you could towards your throbbing center, rubbing and rocking on it for some relief.

Normally, Eddie would reprimand you for such a thing, but he was too wrapped up in the way your mouth felt around him. Your free hand squeezing and flicking your wrist up his shaft, tongue swirling and giving kitten licks to his head, other hand squeezing his balls.

You rocked lightly, eye lids fluttering when your heel brushed against your clit, Eddie's hand wrapping around your ponytail while you bobbed up and down, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth and leaving strings attached to his cock.

You could feel his abs clench, finger tightening around your hair, scalp tingling and burning with the pull. You felt his balls tighten, pulling up, cock twitching in your mouth. You looked back up at him, eyes round, awaiting his instructions.

Eddie's eyes were fluttered close, head tilted back, hips raising while his broken, breathy moans filled the room. Your jaw ached but you continued to suck him, squeezing his shaft harder and suckling against the head until hot spurts fell onto your tongue, gathering and filling with every shuddering breath he took.

Eddie's chest heaved, looking down at you through glazed eyes, shadowed by his thick, dark lashes. "Fuck, baby, s'good. Was s'good." He rasped, hands tightening out of your hair, feather light touch traveling down to your jaw, tilting your chin up to him.

"You didn't swallow did you?" You shook your head obediently, and Eddie beamed. "Good girl. Open up, show me."

You opened slowly, filling his thick, creamy release slide back your throat, lifting your tongue to stop it. Eddie grinned, mouth full of him, slobbering and dribbling down your chin. He nodded. "Swallow. Good girl. Very good." He purred, watching your gulp him down before his lips were on yours.

You shifted up into his kiss, hands on his hair thigh, pressed do closely to him as you could, dizzy with his praises and the way his mouth was exploring yours. He could tase himself, salty and bitter on your tongue. It made his limp cock lurch, hot pleasure still pulsating in his lower belly.

Eddie pulled you up gently by the back of your neck, his lips still on yours, hands on your waist, walking you in a clumsy sort of waltz back to his room. You fell on the bed with a small sigh, Eddie's hands strong and gripping your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

He kept his eyes on yours, pushing his hair behind his ear before kneeling down onto the mattress, your knees by his ears over his shoulders, body raised off the bed steadied by his hands that gripped your hips and held you in place.

Eddie was salivating, licking his lips as he looked at your puffy lips, glistening and already coating the inside of your thighs with your arousal. Eddie placed a kiss to your mound, right above your clit. You shimmied your hips closer, whining and mewling for more, uncomfortable with the angle he had you in, but you wouldn't dare complain. Not when he was about to use his tongue on you.

"I think it's only fair that I show good sportsmanship, don't you?" Eddie teased wickedly, his breath tickling your sopping folds, sending shivers down your spine.

"Your turn, baby." He grinned salaciously, eyes narrowed and dark on you before his tongue was working you open, sucking and licking you until you were screaming, crying, and begging for more.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Headphones

@jegulus-microfic February 8 Word count 940

Previous part First part

CW- Blood, cuts, the aftermath of torture.

Time slowed as they descended the stairs. Each step took an age. By the time he reached the bottom and stood at the door to the cellar, he was certain that an hour had gone by. In reality, it had been less than a minute. 

Sirius reached around him and opened the door. 

“Come on, James. He needs us.” Sirius urged him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. James nodded and walked through the door. 

He was immediately hit by a strong, metallic smell—Iron—Blood! It was too dark to see clearly, but he could make out a figure slouched on a chair in the middle of the room. 

Sirius muttered a charm. A floating orb appeared, illuminating the small room. 

James gasped at the sight before him. Regulus’s head was lolling back, his face swollen and bruised. His body was covered in thin slashes, slowly oozing blood. James looked down at the pool of red collecting on the floor around the chair and grimaced. 

This was his fault. Regulus suffered because of him. 

He rushed forward, determined to help him. He yanked at the ropes, binding Regulus to the chair. Regulus groaned weakly at the movement. 

“It’s alright, love. I’ve got you.” He murmured into Regulus’s ear. Sirius had pulled open the slim cupboard in the corner and started rummaging through the collection of glass vials. 

“What do we need?” He shot over his shoulder at James. 

James looked Regulus over again. 

“Blood replenisher, pain potion and dittany if they have it.” James heard the clatter of vials being moved aside, and then Sirius was beside him, ripping the stoppers out with his teeth. 

“Reg, sweetheart, I need you to open your mouth so we can give you the potions.” He carefully lifted Regulus’s head upright and tried to pry his jaws apart. But Regulus chomped down, refusing to cooperate. 

“Regulus you absolute prat. Open your damn mouth, and let us help you!” Sirius butted in, taking a different approach to James. 

James stared in wonder as the younger man shot daggers at his brother but opened his mouth just wide enough for the potions to be poured in. 

“That’s the blood replenisher. The next one’s a pain killer, okay, Reggie. You’ll start feeling better in a minute.” Sirius assured his brother as he tipped the second vial into his mouth. 

James started using the basic healing charms that he knew. At least nothing seemed to be broken. He could heal cuts and bruises alright, but bones were another matter. 

Soon, Regulus’s face looked almost back to normal. The bruises would fade completely in the next day or two.  

James decided it would be easier for Regulus and themselves if he laid down, so he transfigured the chair into a cot and helped Sirius to lie him down flat.  

Sirius pulled out his headphones and carefully placed them over his brother’s head. 

“What the fuck have you just put on me.” Regulus’s hoarse voice croaked. He seemed more alert, so the potions must be helping.  

“Headphones,” He said as he pressed play on his walkman. “Brand new muggle technology. Thought it might help you relax while we fix the rest of you.” James had already started healing the cuts along one of his arms. 

“Ugh, fine. Who’s singing?” Regulus didn’t have the energy to fight his brother, and the music blocked the sound of his healing skin. 

“Bowie,” Sirius answered simply. 

“Bowies shit,” Regulus complained through gritted teeth. 

“Only because you’re a heathen. Bowie is magical. Do not dis, Bowie!” It took James a few frustrated moments to realise that Sirius was deliberately bickering with Regulus to keep his mind off what they were doing to him. 

He healed the last cut on Regulus’s left arm. His fingers brushed against the ugly black brand on his forearm. How different their lives could have been if Regulus hadn’t joined Voldemort. He drew his eyes away from the mark and started healing the next section. 

They healed every cut, and Sirius had the bright idea to add the essence of dittany into his body cream to make it easier to get it on all of Regulus’s sore body. 

When they were finished, Regulus cracked open an eye. 

“Can I go to sleep now?” He asked quietly. James and Sirius looked at each other, knowing they needed to get something from him, or Moody would come straight back down here, and they wouldn’t be allowed back down again. 

Not yet, love. We need some information. Something important that we can give to Moody.” He stroked his cheek delicately with the backs of his fingers. 

“Was this the plan all along? Bad Auror Moody, and then you two come in all, ‘let us save you, Reggie.’” He looked hurt like they were playing with him. 

“What? No, of course not. We had to plead with Mad-Eye just to be allowed to come down here.—”

“We’re trying to help you, you git. Do you really think James would try and trick you like that?” Sirius butted in, trying his more direct tactic again. 

Regulus looked up at James sadly and nodded. 

“Okay. I’ve got something. But I get to keep these things.” He pointed at the headphones. Sirius looked outraged. 

“I’ve only just got them. Plus, you don’t even like Bowie.” Regulus gave him a small smirk. 

“He’s growing on me.” 

“Gah. Fine. Keep them. Now tell us the information you have.” Sirius gave in quickly. This was more important than a walkman. Regulus swallowed hard and stared into James’s eyes as he told them.  

“He’s going to attack the Ministry.”

Next part

[saiintvalentiine]

HTFF Chapter 1.5

hi. this is like..... a missing scene from how to featherfall. before it became just Wifies POV, I was going to rotate through different POVs but I found it really difficult and unsatisfying to write so I scraped the other POVs.

however! I have what constitutes as most of a chapter from Parrot's POV set immediately after the end of chapter 1. in chapter 3 he mentions that Wifies popped a few totems, and this chapter would have shown the first one :)

Important notes:

This goes without saying, but this won't make sense if you haven't read at least chapter 1 of how to featherfall.

There is a section that's just missing and filled instead with my A/N where I'm screaming. that's part of the experience. it's also unedited. that's also part of the experience.

I really am not that satisfied with the writing in this. Zam and Wemmbu are here and honestly I completely botched them. sorry in advance.

Warnings for gore! It's sprinkled throughout so unlike chapter 2 where you can skip it, here it's unavoidable.

There's a sub-200 word Ken POV set right after this that I just won't post because it's so pathetically short but it exists, so if it feels like this trails off strangely at the end, that's why

anyway, I think that's it. enjoy this little. . . chapter 1.5? divider

Wordcount: 1,712

Wifies has never made a noise like that. Never, ever, ever, not once, not in the hundreds of times he's been stabbed or trapped, the dozens of totems he's popped from shots through the head or axes through his limbs— never. He's so quiet in his pain that Parrot worries sometimes that Wifies will just slip away from him, unheard, and Parrot won't know until it's too late. Now he knows that Wifies slipping away is a horrifying sound. It's like listening to an animal’s death rattle. It's like he's been split open. Like he's been pulled apart.

Wemmbu’s expression cracks, blatant fear and concern breaking through their usual charade. When Parrot leaves him to find Wifies, he’s greeted with Zam's limp arms and blank stare. Whatever just happened, Parrot knows Zam didn't mean it. Zam likes their games just as much as Wifies usually does, just differently, the subterfuge and arguments and drama fueling him. But he likes Wifies— they all like Wifies and his dry humor and his level headed persuasion and his stilted, earnest affections.

Wifies is hanging from a tree, left wing pierced through by three different tree branches. He’s stopped screaming, instead shaking and trying to pry himself off of the branches before going terrifyingly limp just as Parrot reaches him. Zam wordlessly pulls out an axe from his inventory as Parrot wraps his arms around Wifies’s middle and lifts him up to ease the pressure off his back. Zam starts to chop off the branches, and all Parrot can think of is how he's going to get this armor off of Wifies.

Wemmbu appears with a totem in hand, hesitating for a moment before taking one of Wifies's hands and wrapping his fingers around it, tucking the tight cuff of Wifies's sweater on the lower bit so it won't fall out.

“Just in case,” he murmurs to no one.

Parrot appreciates it. Zam cuts through the final branch and all of Wifies's weight lands on Parrot. Zam is holding the very top of Wifies's wing, trying to ease it closer without irritating it.

“We need to cut through this chest plate,” Parrot says. “There's no way we can move his wing to take it off normally.”

Zam offers his axe, and Wemmbu takes it, struggling to find a notch on the metal that'll let him cut through the netherite. Once he does manage to slice away enough to pull the back of it out, though, his face pales.

“That's a whole metal bar,” Wemmbu says in a choked voice. “That's— what the fuck is this?”

This is about an inch of a thick, red iron bar pulled straight out of Wifies's back, the base of his left wing attached to it through what looks like screws and layers of silvery scar tissue. The wing-holes of his sweater let them see that it’s been ripped right out of Wifies’s back, a gaping wound that's pouring out more blood than Parrot can comprehend. 

Parrot holds Wifies closer with his left arm, touching the exposed metal with a shaking finger. It's slick with blood and still warm.

The totem in Wifies's hand pops. They all startle at the noise of it, and Parrot can't stop looking at how the broken skin and muscle starts to pull together, metal shuddering violently as it's pushed and pulled too and fro, like it can't decide if the metal is invasive or belongs. It reseals around the exposed metal, leaving the wing at an awkward angle.

“Nooo,” Wifies moans weakly into Parrot’s ear. “No, no, no. . .”

Zam pulls out a totem from his inventory and hands it over to Wemmbu. Wemmbu shakily repeats the process of getting Wifies to hold onto it, though this time Wifies grips it with a faint sigh.

“Wifies,” Parrot whispers, at a loss for what to do. “What. . . ?”

“What happened?” Wifies slurs. He can't seem to move his weight off of Parrot, though his twitching legs are clearly trying.

“There's metal,” Parrot says dumbly.

Wifies tenses, right wing ruffling and left just jittering inertly.

“No,” he says again and again. “No, no, no, no, no, it's out, it's out isn't it?”

“It’s— there's like, like an inch of metal sticking out of the left side of your back,” Parrot says, stained hand still hovering over it.

“That's too much to put back,” Wifies says. “Gotta, gotta rip it out for the next trial—”

His fever. Wifies still has a fever. Parrot scrambles to pull Wifies’s helmet off and toss it away, pressing his cheek to Wifies's forehead. He's burning, twice as hot as this morning, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused.

“Rip it out?” Zam says faintly. He looks like he's going to be sick.

“Rip it out,” Wifies replies. “Rip it out, means the scapula is too damaged, ‘s no good anymore, trial failed.”

“What is he talking about Parrot,” Wemmbu says. He also looks like he's going to be sick.

“I don't know.”

Wemmbu and Zam are looking to him to salvage this situation, but Parrot feels nauseous and lost. He thought Wifies’s wings were organic, that maybe he couldn't fly because of some kind of muscle issue or psychosomatic symptoms. Not— whatever the fuck is happening now.

“Parrot,” Wifies says, voice slurring. “I have no idea what to do. I've never survived getting them out.”

What the fuck is Parrot supposed to do?

“Someone call Ken,” Parrot blurts out, and Wemmbu whips into action.

“Ken’s gonna kill meeeee,” Wifies mutters. “Told me to take care of it.”

He goes limp again, and Zam checks on the totem.

“Uh,” Ken’s voice is tinny over Wemmbu’s comm speaker. “Can I help you?”

“Wifies’s wing just, uh, exited his body,” Wemmbu says. “It’s— there's a lot of blood.”

Ken curses and something heavy sounding hits wood. There's scrambling, then catastrophic noise that feels appropriate to the inside of Parrot’s brain.

“Just— keep him alive, please,” Ken says, voice strained. “I'll— I can fix it, I think, just keep him alive til I get there.”

Ken hangs up, and then it's the four of them again in the morning light. Ken can fix it. Parrot has to believe in him.

“Let's lay him down inside, head in and get all the stuff off of the living room floor,” Parrot says.

With direction now, Zam speeds off with Wemmbu close behind. Parrot struggles for a minute, but manages to wrangle Wifies up further onto his shoulder without agitating his torn wing. He’s careful as he walks into their house, hand still warm with blood and viscera.

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA]

Ken arrives in a flurry of movement, fur and feathers standing on end. He’s already pale, but looking at Wifies turns him sheet white.

“Fuck,” he says, then turns to Wemmbu and Zam and says, “You two need to leave. Sorry. Get out.”

“What?” Wemmbu says.

“Get out, get out, last thing we need is two more cooks in the kitchen,” and Ken flinches at his own words, waving his hand as if to wipe them out of the air. “Listen, just— I need you to leave. Wifies might kill himself if I don't insist.”

“What the fuck,” Parrot mutters, watching as Ken pushes Zam and Wemmbu out of the house and locks the door behind them.

“Wifies trusts you, and I'm gonna have to trust you too,” Ken says as he slams obsidian in front of the door and pulls out a file folder from his inventory.

“Trust me with what?”

“His life.”

It’s such a dramatic thing for Ken to say, so over the top it’s almost comical, but then he’s pinning sheets of paper onto the dark wood of their walls and Parrot’s nausea doubles. It’s charts and diagrams and— fuck, sometimes pictures, surgical and bloodied, and Parrot doesn’t know where to look when everything is violation and gore. Ken collapses across from him on Wifies’s other side, and starts to tear through his sweater with shears.

“Ken, explain something,” Parrot chokes out. “Anything, please.”

“Wifies’s wings are installed, not grown. They're installed poorly. If one of them exits the body, the whole system has to go.”

Ken sounds so. . . unlike himself. The words sound foreign, practiced, like he's heard them somewhere else and is only repeating them.

“Wifies told you that,” Parrot realizes suddenly. “He knew the whole time they were dangerous didn't he?”

“He left me a kit,” Ken says stiffly. “Just in case something happened. Asked me if I would be okay with having to do something like this.”

The sweater and shirt disappear bit by bit, and Parrot sees the network of gnarled scar tissue on Wifies’s back for the first time. His broken (extracted? He isn't sure what to call it) wing is surrounded by puckered skin from the totem pop, but there's a— a track of scars. Two go from the top of his shoulders down to his mid back. Another two connect the ends of those scars. A single wide scar bisects at an equal distance between those. And then, from the top of his spine all the way down to his waist is a single, inelegant cut that looks large enough to pluck out his vertebrae. Three vertical, three horizonal, like some kind of fucked up version of the rule of thirds.

“God,” Parrot says, and then again, “God,” but he helps Ken toss away the scraps of fabric and looks at the wall of papers for guidance.

“I just need to get the wings out,” Ken mutters, clearly trying to convince himself that he can. “Everything else can stay. The wings, and the fastening mechanisms. That's it. Those are two things on each side, so it’s only four things.”

“We can do that,” Parrot says. “Just four things right? We can do that.”

“We can do that,” Ken repeats, and then the shears are swapped out with a thin, sharp scalpel. “We’ll have to do that.”

Parrot reaches over and holds Wifies's damaged wing away from Ken so he has more space to work with.

“We can do this,” Parrot says, putting every ounce of hope and confidence he can muster into his voice.

Ken’s hand flexes over the handle of the blade and he nods.

“We can do this.”

[bitchsister]

i loveeee ur smut but i lowkey wanna request some like hurt comfort if ur down to write it😅😅 idk just like bucky and gale being soft with curt when he’s upset and loving him

It’s mail day for the boys and Curt has received four letters from home.

This prompt was filled with general MOTA timeline and plot in mind. Not necessarily EYY, but I did give Curt a cat in it (who in EYY lived longer than Curt..) so this is whatever you want it to be!

“Mail day fellas,” Kenny flipped through his stack and clicked his tongue as he divvied out the letters to their rightful owners. “Gee, Curt.” He continued to flick post at him, his brows furrowed. “You forget to write one back to Ruthie, or somethin’?”

Curt sat on his cot, one of the three that had been pushed to the other side of the tent as to make it seem they hadn’t been squished together through the night, himself in the middle while Bucky and Gale slept chest to back, or back to chest with him. “No — who knows what she’s goin’ on about.” he shrugged a shoulder as he got to work on opening them.

“Didn’t she say last time she was takin’ up marmalade making?” Bucky stood lazily in front of Curt, ruffling his hair like he would anyone else’s, speaking through a toothbrush foamy with paste. “Think maybe she’s got some to share in there?”

Kenny moved across their shared tent to hand off a couple letters to Gale from Marge who poured her heart across those pages, cut open and bled out into the ink.

“You’ll be the first to know” he swatted Bucky’s hand away from his head, his nose scrunched with half-awakeness as he focused his eyes eventually on the first of four letters Ruth had sent to him, pulling Bucky down beside him so they could read them together.

Curt had told Ruth about Bucky quite some time ago — He asked me to punch him, Curtis wrote, recalling the incident like it had happened in a dream. And for the first time in my life, I got nothing out of it. I didn’t want to hurt him. It didn’t feel right.

And then: You remember the Major who wanted me to hit him? Well he’s flying now. He’s bunking with me and Gale. I’m not used to sharing space like this.

Turned into: Bucky thinks I’m his good luck charm. And I think he might be mine.

So, Ruth often asked about Bucky, or what their days together might look like. A little section of her letters to Curt were reserved for him, where they'd talk about things like music or the radio, or whatever else.

Bucky never received letters from home.

It felt nice to see his name written in someone else’s handwriting every so often.

“Ah, see. She did start marmaladin’.” Bucky pointed to the bottom of the letter, hearing Curt huff and swipe his hand again.

“Y’read too fast.”

“Maybe you read too slow.” Shot back in a low timber, Bucky pressed his nose against Curt’s cheek once Kenny had gone on about his merry way to deliver more letters.

Eventually as the pages flicked and Bucky was passed the section of their letters reserved for him, now a whole page, they dwindled down, Curt’s mutter hardly audible when he said “Scout is sick.”, his heart flipping in his chest once he tore open the final letter, his eyes scanning the first paragraph.

Sweet Cutty, our darling Scout has finally grown too tired. Oh, how she loved you! She lived such a long life, and happy as could be until the very end. She was a kitten when we brought you home from the hospital! The two of you, thick as theives.

Curt’s chin wobbled, the awful burning sting in his eyes instantly unbearable.

This morning after her breakfast, she passed in the grass beneath the oak tree. The one you carved your name in before you left.

I think maybe that was her way of saying goodbye to you, too.

A sob lurched out of him, big and loud. So loud, it jolted Gale right up out of his spot across the tent, scrambling quickly as if Curt had been shot. “What’s the matter?” He asked, squatting beside him with his brows furrowed narrowly. His gaze shifted from a Curt who seemed to instantly crumble to dust and Bucky who looked to know at least half of it.

“Is it Scout?” John reached for Curt’s face to cradle his cheeks where hot, horrible tears soaked his palms. “Oh, baby. No — don’t cry,” he cooed, but he knew it was unfair to say such a thing.

He knew just as well as anyone else did in the One Hundredth how much Curt missed his very first partner in crime, the fattest orange cat to ever live.

He held the damp letters in his lap like a lifeline as he read over them again and again, hoping to find some way to read between the lines. She wasn’t really gone. She couldn’t be.

Scout was going to live out all of her nine lives with them.

They made a promise.

“The cat?” Gale piped up, some sense of relief in his voice but he tried to hide it. The way Curt had sounded when he wailed was as if Ruth had dropped dead, or his Pops had clutched his chest for one last heart attack.

Curt nodded his head through waves of grief, simply inconsolable.

It felt so different for Bucky and Gale who’d grown so used to a tough Curtis. He’d take everything on the chin, shake it off, get right back on the saddle every time. He’d never once shed a tear, or shown his fear.

He kept his head high, his shoulders back.

But this.

It was the complete opposite.

He curled in on himself, he wailed into his knees. He heaved through hiccuped sobs, he squeaked a little “She can’t be.” In between them.

It was pain unlike any he’d felt before, and while Gale drew the flap of their tent closed, Bucky had taken it upon himself to scoop a Curtis who’d shriveled himself so small and fragile, his poor frame vibrating with every sob, into his lap. “She lived such a long life, Curtie.” Bucky’s voice was bordering a whisper, his own heart breaking within his chest at the sight.

“And she loved you, hm? Loved you so much. I remember those pictures you showed us. The two of you.” Gale knelt again at Bucky’s knees where Curt curled into himself. “Knew nothing but love all her life. No pain or war. None of this stuff here.”

“I ain’t even there.” It came out in choked stutters, his lips puffy and red. “She thinks I just left. And she fuckin’ died.” Another wave swept him up and dragged him out to sea, drowning in his own tears that he didn’t bother holding back. “What if she — “ he didn’t get the chance to finish, demolished yet again by the burning, searing pain in his chest, and the Cat-shaped hole that was left there.

“She loves you so much.” Bucky whispered, pressing kisses into Curt’s hair that had gone slightly damp with sweat. “She’s with you now, hm? Found her boy all those miles away. Watchin’ over you, I’m sure.”

“You know damn well she’d be in that co-pilot seat.” Gale reached up and coxed Curt’s face gently out of Bucky’s chest where his shirt had been drenched with tears. “That’s where she’ll be now, Curtie. She’ll be right here with us.”

Hands roamed Curt’s tensed body.

His chest, his neck, his cheeks that burned like little stoves. They pushed his hair out of his face, they swiped his tears away even if they were immediately replaced with fresh ones — eventually, though, there were no more tears left to cry.

He’d wrung himself dry, nothing but hiccups left and a blank stare across the room, his fingers deftly tracing the lines over Bucky’s knuckles where strong arms slung around his middle to hold Curt’s back against his chest. “Take a breath.” Bucky whispered, their cheeks pressed together. “Just breathe.”

Gale sucked in a few breaths with Curt, their lungs filling and emptying at the same time despite a few being cut short by a dry-sob, the realization dawning upon him over and over.

He’ll never see her again.

She’s gone.

“Tell us your favorite memory you have of her.” Gale shifted to sit on the ground, his neck craned to look at Curt who glanced down at him, oceans of blue drowned in vines of bloodshot red.

As he thought, the slightest touch of a smile came wandering back to his lips. Their archive of memories were so extensive, lasting all of Curt’s life as he knew it, accompanied by a sidekick who’d steal your food the moment you glanced away, but loved to give kisses on the nose afterward as an apology. “She followed me to school once.” He sniffled, smile growing wider as he recalled it. “Laid right on my feet. Didn’t bother nobody.”

The three of them laughed gently together, quiet and careful.

“She hated most everybody. Found no pleasure in meeting new friends.”

Bucky squeezed his arms around Curtis, “S’cuz she had you, baby.”

There’s a few more sniffles, a couple more outbursts, but eventually Curt falls asleep, exhausted by his own hand with his head lulled against Bucky’s shoulder and his pinkie locked with Gales.

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Fresh Blood

Masterlist

The boys and I make our way into a building to find a man lying bleeding but conscious on the ground. We crouch  down over him and noticed he had been bitten in the neck. "Hey, hey. don't worry. We're gonna call you some help, okay?" Sam said to the man as I pull out of a napkin and placed it over the wound. 

"Where is she? Where'd she go?!" Dean asked the man and he gestures vaguely down the alley. Sam and I stay with the man as Dean runs off in that direction. "Stay  with us. Stay with us." I said to the man. Then we hear Dean shouting and i look over at Sam, who nods at me.

I run over to another open section and see the vampire right on Dean but he sticks a syringe in her neck. She convulses and falls to the ground, unconscious. Dean let's out breath and looks over at me as I frown at him. 

"What?" He asked.

"Cutting it a little close, don't you think?" I said to him.

"Ah, that's just chum in the water. Worked, didn't it?" Dean said and I scoff and shake my head.

We brought the vampire to our motel room, which is a dingier room than what we usually occupy; old mattresses line the walls, blocking out all external light. The vampire is tied to a chair in the middle of the room; Sam, Dean and I circle her.

"You with us?" Dean asked she wakes up fully, then struggles against her bonds. "Oh, yeah, sorry. You're not going anywhere." I said to her as she looks up at us in fear.

"Where's your nest?" Sam asked her. "What?" She said, confused. "Your nest...where you and your bloodsucking pals hang out." Dean said. "I don't know what you're talking about. Please! I don't feel good." She pleads to us. "Yeah, well, you're gonna feel a hell of a lot worse if we give you another shot of dead man's blood." Dean threatens her.

"Just let me go." She cries. "Yeah, you know we can't do that." I said. "I'm telling you the truth. I'm just...I took something. I'm freaking out! I don't know what's going on!" She said, panicked.

"You took something?" Sam asked. "Yes! I can't...come down. I just want to come down." She said, freaking out.

"What's your name?" I asked her. "Lucy." She replied then she looks around at us. "Please, just let me go." Lucy pleads. "All right, Lucy, how about this? If you tell us what happened, we'll let you go." Sam said.

"You will?" She asked then she looks at Dean, who nods, then shoots me and Sam a confused look over her head. "Uh, I don't really...um, it's not that clear. I was at Spider." She explains.

"Spider?" Sam asked. "The club on Jefferson. And there was this guy...he was buying me drinks." Lucy said. "This guy...what's he look like?" I asked her. "He was old, like thirty. He had brown hair, a leather jacket...Deacon or Dixon or something. Said he was a dealer...he had something for me." She explained.

"Something?" Sam asked. "Something new. Better than anything you've ever tried. He put a few drops in my drink." She said. "Was the drug red and thick?" Dean asked her and she nods. "Well, genius move there. That was vampire blood he dosed you with." Dean said.

"What?" She asked. "You just took a big shot of the nastiest virus out there." Dean said. "You're crazy! He gave me roofies or something! No...The next thing I know, we're at his place, and he says he's gonna get me something to eat, just wait. But I get so hungry." Lucy said.

"So you busted out?" I asked and she nods. "But it won't wear off...whatever he gave me?" She said. "Lights are too bright? Sunshine hurt your skin?" Dean asked. "Yeah...And smells. And I can...hear blood pumping." Lucy said. "I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but your blood's never pumping again." Dean said to her.

"Not mine...yours. I can hear a heart beating from half a block away. I just want it to stop." She said, her voice breaking. "It's not going to stop. You've already killed two people...almost three." I tell her. "No, I couldn't. I was hallucinating!" She exclaims. "You killed them, all right? We've been following a sloppy trail of corpses, and it leads straight to you." Dean said, firmly, as he leans closer to her. "No. No, it wasn't real! It was the drug! Please! Please, you have to help me!" She exclaims.

Sam jerks his head at us and we get up to leave. "No, no." She pleads as we go to the next room. "Poor girl." Sam said and I nod slightly. Even though she is a blood sucking monster, i feel sorry for her. She didn't ask for this.

"We don't have a choice." Dean said and Sam and I nod. Dean takes his machete and heads back in the room. "No...please!" She screams and as Dean decapitates her, Sam and I flinch at this.

"That was a big, fat waste of time." Dean growls as we walk out of the Spider, the club Lucy mentioned. "Look, three blondes have gone missing, including Lucy, all last sighted here. I'm telling you, Dean, this is the hunting ground." Sam said just as, across the way, I see a 30-something man duck into an alley with his arm around a young blonde. "Uh, boys." I said as I pointed them out to Sam and Dean.

We make it to the alley and see that the girl has her mouth open and had her tongue sticking out. Just so to catch the drops from the dropped, which was full of thick red liquid.

Before any can fall in, Dean grabs the man's arm, pulls it down, and clocks him in the face. Sam and I pull the girl away and shove her towards the mouth of the alley. "Get out of here. Go! go!" Sam shouts as the vampire hurls Dean into a brick wall. I go after him but he shoves me away then takes off at a run.

Sam goes over and helps us up. "Guys!" Sam said. "I'm good." Dena and I said as we get back up. "Come on." I shout and we take off after the vampire.

As we hurtle around the corner, the vampire is nowhere in sight but facing us, guns at their sides, are Gordon and Kubrick. "Son of a bitch." I said, shocked, then Gordon raises his gun and he starts firing.

The boys and I dive behind parked cars and manage to entirely avoid getting shot. We duck behind a wall and crouch, waiting. "All right. Run. I'll draw them off." Dean said to me and Sam. "What?!" Sam said, shocked. "You're crazy!" I exclaimed. Ignoring us, Dean darts out into the line of fire, leaps on top of a car and uses it to get over a second-story parking lot entrance.

Kubrick follows him and Sam grabs my hand and we make our way out of the alleyway. Then we make our way back to the hotel.

Later, Sam is pacing around, worried, while I sit on the edge of a bed. I wring my hands and my right leg bounce from nerves until Dean enters. "There you are!" Sam said. "Where the hell were you?" I asked him, angrily, as I stand up. "Yeah. Sorry, I stopped for a slice." Dean replied, unconcerned, as he pats his stomach.

"Nice move you pulled back there, Dean, running right at the weapons." Sam said to him. "Well, what can I say? I'm a bad-ass." Dean said as he continues to ignore mine and Sam's worry-face.

"So, I guess Gordon's out of jail." Dean said. "Uh, yeah, I guess so." Sam scoffs. "You know, how the hell did he know where to find us?" I asked him and Dean comes to a realization. "That bitch." He growls and he pulls out his cell phone and dials. "Hi, Bela. Question for you. When you called me yesterday, it wasn't to thank me for saving your ass, was it?" He asked and I scoffed.

"Excuse me?" Dean said, angrily, and Sam and I share a look. "I don't know, maybe pick up the phone and tell us that a raging psychopath was dropping by! He tried to kill us!" Dean shouts. 

"There were two of them. Bela, if we make it out of this alive, the first thing I'm gonna do is kill you." He growls into the phone. "Listen to my voice and tell me if I'm serious." He said and he hangs up. "Should've shot her when I had the chance." I grumbled and Dean nods slightly. 

Later, Dean sharpens his machete on a sharpening stone while Sam and I clean our guns beside him. "That vampire's still out there, Dean." I said to him. "First things first." He said and we look over at him. "Gordon." Sam and I said and Dean nods.

"About that. When we find him, or if he finds us...I'm just saying he's not leaving us a whole lot of options." Dean said. "Yeah, I know. We've got to kill him." Sam said, calmly, and Dean gives him a shocked look. "Really? Just like that? I thought you would have been like..." Dean said then he changes into a mocking tone. "No, we can't, he's human, it's wrong." He said, mockingly.

"No, I'm done. Gordon's not gonna stop until we're dead...or till he is." Sam said. I nod at this just as Dean's cell phone rings; he looks at it, scowls, and picks up angrily. "What?!" He growls and I knew it must be Bela again. "You're a hundred miles away. How the hell did you..." he starts to say but stops.

"And?" He asked and he listens again. "Thanks." Dean said then he listens into the phone for a moment then hangs up.

Apparently, Dean's threat scared Bela so bad she was able to track down where Gordon is. So we immediately make our way to the address and creep down the steps into a room.

There we see the bodies of two girls hanging by their wrists but both of them were headless, and the vampire, Dixon, was kneeling in front of them. Dean takes a knife from the table and approaches him slowly. "Go ahead. Do it. Kill me." Dixon said to us, not looking at us.

"What happened here?" I asked as I look at the two Headless bodies. "Gordon Walker. I never should have brought a hunter here. Never. I just...I just wanted some kind of revenge. Stupid...exposing him to my family." Dixon said. "Oh, yeah, you're such a family man." Dean said, sarcastically.

"You don't understand." Dixon said. "I don't want to understand, you son of--" Dean growls and Dixon turns to him, tears running down his face. "I was desperate. You ever felt desperate? I've lost everyone I ever loved. I'm staring down eternity alone. Can you think of a worse hell?" He asked us.

"Well, there's Hell." I pointed out and Dixon scoffs. "I wasn't thinking. I just, I didn't care anymore. Do you know it's like when you just don't give a damn? It's like...it's like being dead already. So just go ahead. Do it." Dixon said as Sam inspects the headless bodies. "Guys." Sam said and we look up at him.

"Head wasn't cut off, it was ripped off. With someone's bare hands." Sam said and we look over at Dixon, who looks down in guilt and shame. "Dixon, what did you do to Gordon?" I asked him and he looks up at us then let's out a sigh. And he said something that made my blood turn cold.

Dixon had turned Gordon into a vampire.

The next morning, Dean and I enter the hotel room, frustrated, then he removes his jacket. Sam was seated at the table, poring over maps. "Man, (y/n) and I must have checked three dozen motels, empty buildings, warehouses." Dean said. "Yeah, me too. Big city." Sam said as Dean goes to the sink and washed his face.

"It's like a giant haystack, and Gordon's a deadly needle. We're running out of daylight. Won't have the sun slowing him down." I said. "Yeah, he'll be unstoppable." Sam said then he looks over at us. "Hey, give me your phones." He said.

"What for?" Dean and I asked as we hand him our phones. "Well, if Gordon knows our cell numbers he can use the cell signal to track us down." Sam said as he takes the SIMS card out of our phones. "Oh, yeah, thanks." Dean said as Sam stomps on both phones then stomps on his as Dean looks out the curtains. Then he walks back with a sense of purpose.

"Guys, stay here." He said. "What? Where you going now?" I asked him as Dean pulls the Colt out of his bag and checks it. "I'm going after Gordon." He said. "What?" Sam and I said, shocked.

"You heard me." He said. "Not alone, you're not." Sam said. "Sam, I don't need you or (y/n) to sign me a permission slip, okay? He's after both of you, not me, and he's turbocharged. I want you two to stay out of harm's way. I'll take care of it." He said and he starts to turn but I step forward and grab his arm.

"You're not going by yourself, you're gonna get killed." I said to him. "Just another day at the office. It's a massively dangerous day at the office." Dean said and I scoff. "So you're the guy with nothing to lose now, huh? Oh wait, let me guess. Because, uh, it's because you're already dead, right?" I asked, annoyed, quoting Dixon.

"If the shoe fits." He said, unconcerned.

"You know what, man? I'm sick and tired of your kamikaze trip." Sam said, angrily. "Whoa, whoa, kamikaze? I'm more like a ninja." said Dean. "That's not funny." I remarked. "It's a little funny." He said. "No, it's not." Sam and I said.

"What do you want me to do, huh? Sit around all day writing sad poems about how I'm gonna die? You know what? I got one. Let's see, what rhymes with shut up, guys?" Dean exclaims.

"Dam it, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid." I said, angrily. "I'm not!" Dean shouts. "You're lying." I spat at him. "She's right. You may as well drop it 'cause we can see right through you." Sam said.

"You got no idea what you're talking about." Dean growls and I give a look of disbelief towards him. "Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean. You're scared because your year is running out, and you're still going to Hell, and you're freaked." Sam said.

"And how do you know that?" Dean asked him. "Because I know you!" Sam yells. "Really?" Dean said, disbelief. "Yeah, I've been following you around our entire life! I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world, (y/n) would be a close second. And this is exactly how you act when you're terrified. And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just..." Sam said then he stops and I just stand there, silently agreeing with Sam.

"What?" Dean asked. "I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. 'Cause...just 'cause." Sam said and Dean stares at him then over at me. "You don't have to act tough, Dean. It's okay if you're scared. We're here for you." I said and Dean looks down for a moment. "All right, we'll hole up, cover our scent so he can't track us, and wait the night out here." He said and we nod.

Later, Dean and I barricade the doors and windows as Sam lights incense. Dean looks over at me and I turn to him then he takes my hand in his and squeezes it. I give him a small smile and squeeze his hand back before I bring his hand up and kiss it. He gives me a smirk then we let go and go back to barricading the doors and windows.

Sometime later, Dean's phone rings and we look at him. "You've had that phone two hours, Dean. Who'd you give the number to?" Sam asked him. "Nobody." Dean said and he picks up the phone. "Hello?" He answers then he stops. "How'd you get this number?" Dean asked and Sam and I exchange worried look, it had to be Gordon. 

"I guess you'll just have to find us. What's the matter, Gordo? You're not afraid of us, are you? We're just sitting here. Bring it on!" Dean said then his eyes widen in fear and he looks over at us. "Gordon, let the girl go. Gordon! Don't do this. You don't kill innocent people. You're still a hunter." Dean yells in the phone but then he pulls the phone away and looks up at us, fearfully.

We make it to the warehouse and find the hostage then we go to untie her. "Hey, we got you. Don't worry. We're gonna get you out of here." I said as Sam helps her up. "Get up. Watch your head. Watch your head." Sam said as the girl sobs and can barely walk, so Dean slings her arm over his shoulders and picks her up. "Guys, stay close." Dean said to us.

Sam and I follow Dean and the girl closely, but not closely enough as a mechanized door suddenly slides down in front of me and Sam, cutting us off from the others. We pound and kick at the door, to no avail. "(Y/n)! Sam!" Dean's voice shouts. "Dean!" Sam and I said, panicked.

"Damn it, guys!" Dean shouts as Sam pounds the door one last time in frustration, then he and I turn and walk away from the door, my eyes darting around and I'm sure Sam's eyes were doing the same.

Then the lights go out.

Sam and I freeze and bring our machetes up, and start creeping around with our arms held out blindly. "Gordon...you got me and (y/n) where you want us. You might as well come out and fight!" Sam yells.

"I'm right here, Sam." Gordon said, which sounded like it was behind us. I turned around but see nothing. "What's the matter, kiddos?" Gordon asked, mockingly.

"So, this is really the way you want to do it, huh?" I called out to him. "Damn right I do. You have no idea what I faced to get here. I lost everything. My life. But it's worth it, 'cause I'm finally gonna kill the two most dangerous things I ever hunted. You two are not human." Gordon said.

"Look who's talking." Sam spat as we continue to cautiously walk around the room. "You're right. I'm a bloodthirsty killer." Gordon said. "Don't talk about it like you don't have a choice." I said. "I don't." Gordon replied. "Yes you do, Gordon. You didn't kill that girl." I pointed out. "No, I didn't. I did something much, much worse." Gordon said and Sam and I walked on then we stood in the middle of the room and stood back to back against each other.

And I realized what he meant, he turned that girl.

Dean, please be careful. I thought as I looked around at the darkness.

"I got to hand it to you, guys. You two got a lot of people fooled. But see, I know the truth. I know what it's like. We're the same now, all three of us. I know how it is walking around with something evil inside you. It's just too bad you guys won't do the right thing and kill yourself." Gordon said then I looked ahead and saw a figure some feet in front of us. 

"I'm gonna...as soon as I'm done with you two. Three last good deeds. Killing you two, and killing myself." Gordon said then he attacks us, sending all three of us flying through the wall separating us from Dean. We struggle on the ground and Gordon knocks away our machete.

Gordon picks Sam and flings him across the room then he grabs me around the neck. Dean comes up from behind and points the Colt at Gordon's head, but Gordon is too fast for him. He throws me to the side and he stops Dean's gun-arm, then flings him across the room.

I groan and shake my head as Gordon pins Dean against the wall and sinks his teeth into Dean's neck. "No!" I screamed and I charge at Gordon and clock him across the back of the neck. Gordon turns away from Dean and knocks me down, then slams me across a worktable. I grunt in pain and Gordon goes to loom over me.

Then a razor wire wraps around Gordon's neck and he was pulled away from me. I look over and see that Sam was the one who wrapped the wire around Gordon's neck and he begins to pull. Gordon begins to choke out a death-rattle breath, and I glare at him then nod at Sam, who grits his teeth and pulls harder.

Blood drips from his hands where the razor wire is cutting in, and yet he pulls harder, until he cuts all the way through Gordon's neck and sends his head tumbling. Sam pants from the effort, and we stare down at Gordon's head on the ground, then Sam examines his bloody hands.

I let out a heavy sigh then go over to Dean, who staggers to his feet, clutching his neck in pain and still holding the Colt. "Dean, you okay?" I asked him and he nods at me.

He looks down in surprise at the headless Gordon, then back up at Sam, who shrugs. We stumble off together, neither of us moving very well. "You just charged a super-vamped-out Gordon with no weapon. That's a little reckless, don't you think?" Dean asked Sam, who shrugs again, then we head out.

Next morning, Dean is under the hood of the Impala, poking at something, while Sam opens a cooler and pulls out three beers, then shuts the lid and sits on it. He opens one bottle and passes it to Dean then opens the other and hands it to me.

"Figure out what's making that rattle?" I asked Dean. "Not yet." Dean said as he looks over. "Give me a box wrench, would you, Sam?" Dean asked. "Yeah." Sam said and he goes to the toolbox and pulls out a wrench.

"There you go." He said as he holds the wrench out to him. "Thanks." Dean said then he takes the wrench, then he has a thoughtful look on his face. "Sam." He calls out and Sam looks over at him.

"Wrong one?" Sam asked. "No, come here for a second." Dean said. Sam looks over at me and I shrug then he gets up and leans over the hood with Dean.

"Yeah." Sam said as I stand up and stand next to him. "This rattle could be a couple of things. I'm thinking it's an out-of-tune carb." Dean explains as he gestures towards the engine. "Okay." Sam said, confused. "All right, see this thing? It's a valve cover. Inside are all the parts that are on the head. Hand me that socket wrench." Dean said and Sam does.

"All right, you with me so far?" He asked. "Yeah, uh, valve cover covers the heads." Sam said and Dean smiles and I smile as well as I realized what Dean was doing. "Very good. This is your intake manifold, and on top of it?" Dean asked and Sam smiles fondly, like he's remembering something.

"It's, uh, a carburetor." Sam said and Dean nods, smiling proudly. "Carburetor...very good." He said. 

"What's with the auto shop?" Sam asked and Dean holds out the socket wrench. "You don't mean you want..." Sam said shocked. "Yeah, I do. You fix it." Dean said. "Dean, you barely let me drive this thing." said Sam.

"Well, it's time. You should know how to fix it. You're gonna need to know these things for the future. And besides, that's my job, right? Show my little brother the ropes?" Dean asked and Sam nods and takes the wrench, leans in and starts unscrewing.

Dean walks away and goes towards the cooler but I stop him as I take his hand. He looks at me and I smile at him. He smiles back then leans down and kiss me, lightly.

Once we break the kiss, he goes and sits on the cooler and turns slightly to watch Sam. "Put your shoulder into it." He tells Sam and I chuckle as Sam continues to work on the car.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester

[cannibal-wings]

I was unsure what to share for this WIP Wed so I guess I'll just post the whole Ada and Leon interaction haha. It's a couple pages though, so hopefully that's enough. I figured stealth combat probably wasn't that interesting to share atm. Again, this is from You Pay the Cost. I've been... not dreading, but nervous to write Ada just because I'm never sure if I'm quite getting her right. I'll probably edit this section some more too. I don't think I did terribly though.

He pushed the next door open and carefully stepped inside. There hadn’t been any sound from beyond the door, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t an ambush waiting for him. He had his SG drawn, he checked his ammo count, he was still good. He kept it up as he did a quick sweep of the room. It was small, cozy even, with a lit fireplace, some chairs, and what looked like a printing press in the corner. Leon gave the machine quick look; it was interesting but ultimately not what he was here for. A bookcase lined the opposite wall. It looked to him, like a study or something similar. The room looked well maintained, which struck him as odd, since most of the places in the castle seemed run down, and he wouldn’t have expected a printing press or study to be one thing that hadn’t been left to rot. Maybe it was someone in the castles last refuge?

Leon dropped his guard and thought about using this room to rest for a moment. His lower back was killing him and he unfortunately knew what that meant. It was the same pulsing ache that heralded the arrival of a new mutation. And there was only one left. He sighed and tried not to think about it. He looked to the door on the other side then back at the one he came from. He could barricade himself in while he mutated, though he had no idea how long it would actually take. The time between the first onset of body aches to the actual transformation hadn’t ever been consistent. Ashley needed him, but he would rather not go down in the middle of a group of cultists.

He decided he’d wait it out in this room. He stepped forward, his intent was to drag a chest over and block the exit door, but was stopped when a voice sounded off behind him. “Stop right there, Leon.”

Leon froze and put two of his hands up. The secondary arms he kept close to his chest. He frowned. Even after six years he still knew that voice. But what was it doing here? He could hear her footsteps behind him, heels, ever impractical, some things never change. He could feel something press against his back, a gun no doubt. His carapace didn’t allow him to feel anything other than the pressure. She spoke again, “You wouldn’t make me use this? Would you?” He tilted his head slightly, he thought he heard her voice shake, just a bit.

Leon tossed his gun down; he wasn’t sure how twitchy she was going to be with her trigger finger. While he knew Ada had comparable training to himself, he also knew that his situation could cause rash reactions. He hoped that since his voice sounded relatively normal, he could deescalate a bit. “Well, after six years this is one hell of a greeting, Ada.”

“You don’t seem surprised,” she said. “Interesting.”

Leon shifted one of his legs ever so slightly. “You know? After what’s happened tonight? Not much could surprise me.” The gun was still pressed firmly to his back. For a moment, he considered making a move so she’d shoot, at least then he wouldn’t have to face her as he was now. He took a deep breath, but that would just be running away, and he didn’t run away anymore. He moved his head just a bit, to try to turn and look at her. “Listen-” he started but was cut off by a sudden shot. It didn’t penetrate, but it still kicked him forward. He finished the turn and knocked the gun up so the next shot missed his head. For a moment Ada seemed surprised at her own actions, but she recovered quickly.

Leon had always been stronger than her, and now he was even more so. She abandoned the idea of shooting him, at least not while he still had her arm in his hand. She turned her body with the intent of placing a kick squarely in his chest to knock him back. But as she lifted her leg, she realized that also wasn’t going to work. But it was too late to stop the motion, she put all her weight into it and barely moved him. He was large, solid, and if he hadn’t spoken to her just now, she wouldn’t have thought him human. This wasn’t a fight she wanted to risk. Leon knocked her leg aside and took a step towards her.  

He seemed to be holding back, unsure of how hard to push her. She used that to her advantage and yanked her arm free of his grasp. She ducked under him and tried to place the gun against his chest, but he quickly pivoted his body away and reached for something. Within seconds he finished his pivot and had a knife to her throat. She looked from the blade, then up to his face. The first real look she had gotten of it. It was still him, still Leon, but only barely. He still had hair, and his eyes were mostly left alone. But there wasn’t any ignoring the huge outer jaws that sat slightly parted on his face. “Oh Leon,” she said softly. She ignored the blade against her throat, if he wanted to kill her he would have already, in a variety of ways. With her unarmed hand she reached for his face. “What did they do to you?”

For a moment it looked like he wanted to lean into that touch, but then his eyes widened and he recoiled violently, and clamped his jaws tightly against his face. “Don’t,” he said and backed away.

The tension had completely diminished and Ada knew that she wasn’t going to shoot either. She holstered her blacktail and said, “Someone trained you well. Your movements were smooth.” He moved for his gun on the ground and she let him. He scooped it up and holstered it. “Not the same rookie cop from all those years ago.”

Leon sighed. “Why are you here?” He was tired, and he didn’t need another party making his life worse tonight. “Who are you working for this time?”

She grinned. “You know I don’t work and tell.”

“Yeah,” Leon shook his head. “Don’t know why I bothered to ask. It’s not like you’re one for telling the truth anyways.”

“It’s not personal, just my job.” She moved away and leaned against the stone wall. “You’re out here chasing the President’s Daughter are you not?” Leon looked up and nodded. She caught the way his mandibles twitched. “I was going to tell you to leave the girl, but you’re just as lost as she is.”

“Even if I wasn’t, you know I can’t do that.”

“Right.” She watched him move, he was still acting mostly human, he still used weapons like a man, his posture was humanlike. He was still Leon, but then she looked closer, and saw all the dried blood on his arms, his claws, around his mandibles. “How long do you have?”

He didn’t even bother asking how she knew he was on a timer. “Dawn, apparently.”

“Then you better get a move on.” She needed to leave too. There was still one more ingredient for her to search out and she didn’t have the luxury of stalling. When she looked at Leon, what Luis told her began to sink in. What he was now, was what she would become. And what he was, was the same thing that had been stalking her relentlessly. “But,” she added to get his attention. “You still have some time.”

“You talk like you know more than you let on.”

“I do.”

“Of course.”

Leon had now taken up against the bookcase. One pair of arms folded across his chest. Then she noticed a second pair of arms, also crossed. Those had wicked blades on the end. She didn’t even see them during their scuffle. “I think I’ve encountered what you’re turning into.” He cocked his head and his mandibles flared out just a bit before they settled against his face. “Not sure if they have a name, but certain features of yours match up. Face is all wrong though.”

“How so?”

“Well the thing I saw, it was more insect like. Your face is pretty human looking, and your outer jaws aren’t the same either.”

Leon nodded. “Luis mentioned I might go through a second facial mutation, so that adds up.”

Ada said, “Oh, a shame to lose that pretty face of yours.”

“Ha,” Leon said, not falling for it. “Like it isn’t lost already?” She didn’t say anything to that so he asked, “You say I got time? Because I don’t match the other creature you saw?” She nodded her head. “Right, well, better stop wasting that time here then. Not like you’re going to tell me anything useful.”

“Never said that,” Ada said as she pushed off from the wall. “Come on, I can be helpful. On occasion. Give me your radio frequency.”

“So you can use me?”

“So I can help you.” Leon rolled his eyes and flared his jaws. He seemed to do that a lot, she was certain it was a facial expression she wasn’t catching. But he gave her his frequency. “You mentioned a name, Luis? What do you know about him?”

Now it was Leon’s turn to be secretive. “Why do you want to know? He important to you?”

“I’m running an errand for him, let’s say.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart, no doubt.” Leon paused, then something caught his attention. Like before when he parted his mandibles, he could taste something on the air. He flared them and took deep breaths. Ada just seemed confused by his behavior, and he was too.

“Leon?”

Then it hit him. It the smell of the Plaga, no, it was his scent, but weak, diluted. “They got you too…” He didn’t wait for her to confirm it. He took another large breath and said, “I can smell it. You’re like me.”

“N-Not if I can help it. Sorry, Leon, but that look suits you more than it does me.”

“Then Luis told you the same thing he told me. That he could fix it. That’s your errand.”

She walked past him for the window. “Clever. You really aren’t that rookie anymore.”

“How long ago?” Leon asked but as he did a wave of pain shot up his spine. He knew Ada caught the way he flinched and pressed back against the bookcase.

“Yesterday evening.”

“Well,” he said, not able to hide the pain on his features. “You’re clearly not as receptive to it as I am. Or you’d be, as you put it, “just as lost” as me.” He groaned and thumped his head against the books. “This whole thing,” he gestured at his arms and legs, “took around five hours to kick in after infection.”

“Slower than the T-Virus at least,” Ada said. “We have that going for us.”

“Sure,” Leon ground his teeth behind closed mandibles. Another wave of pain traveled up his spine. He could feel skin break. “Why now?” he growled the question to himself but he didn’t doubt that Ada could hear him. 

Ada watched him grimace and close his eyes. His mandibles flared then clamped against his face. He had started to breathe hard. “Are you ok?”

“No,” Leon said, he wasn’t going to lie. Not that he’d be able to. “Ever see a man grow a t-tail before?” He growled in pain as another wave shot up his spine. He could feel his back plates lift. Ada watched him but said nothing. He clarified, “I’m mutating. Again.” This time the pain took him to his knees. He swore and clutched his head. Even though the pain originated at his lower back, his head was pounding. “L-Luis said,” words were getting hard to form. “He said that the tail was next. D-Did the thing that you saw have a tail?” 

“No idea, it was wearing a big black cloak.” She started to back away from him. “It also wanted me dead. Do you want me dead?”

Leon tipped to the floor. He curled in on himself as another sharp round of needles went up his back. His legs were too long now, they felt awkward to try to tuck up. “Sometimes I think I want you dead,” he admitted. “But n-not because of Saddler.” He hissed. “Shit.”

“Interesting, and why would you want me dead Leon?”

“You sure have- haven’t done the world any f-f-favors after Raccoon City.”

“Oh,” she said. “Still sore about that?” This time when he snarled it wasn’t just from the pain. She could tell. “Right. Like I’ve said, nothing personal.” She turned to leave, like she should have from the start. Ada was smart enough not to stick around and watch a monster be born. Especially not a monster that could kill her. But she was also trained to put down problems before they could become worse. When she looked back at Leon on the floor, drooling, scraping at the wooden floor with too sharp claws, she decided he could very easily become a big problem.

She took her foot down from the windowsill and crouched at Leon’s side. The blacktail was removed from its holster and placed against Leon’s head. He looked up at her with most tired eyes she had ever seen. “You get one last thing from me,” she told him. Leon nodded. “Do you want me to shoot you? It’ll be quick, clean, you’ll be dead before you even register I pulled the trigger. Before you turn fully.”

Leon looked up at Ada then rested his head on the floor. His hair covered most of one eye, but the other he trained on her. She was offering him a professional courtesy. He’d do the same for her. When dealing with an B.O.W. infection there is always a period of lucidity before the end. She was questioning if his had just run out. The professional response would be to accept and die before you lost what remained of yourself. But Leon had other plans.

“No,” he said after a pause that was only a few seconds but felt like years. “I have a job to do. And I’m going to see it done.” This time the wave of pain was so strong he jolted and cried out. He could feel the gun press against his head again. Ada might not be willing to honor his request. He couldn’t say he’d blame her. But he was in no condition to fight back. “I can’t fail again,” he said. “Please, Ada, you can’t let me fail again. I promised it would be different.”

The tip of the gun wavered against his temple. Then it pulled away completely. “Damn it Leon,” he heard her say as she backed off. “Don’t make me regret this. Be a good bug and don’t get in my way.”

“Thanks,” he managed to say before he tucked his head in and howled in agony.

Ada climbed halfway out the window. She took one last look back at the man on the floor. She could hear the sound of fabric ripping and flesh tearing. Leon cried out in pain. “Not sure you should thank me.” She pulled out her grapple gun and aimed for a bit of rooftop across from the room she was in. When he screamed again she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

[raccoxn]

DEAD OF NIGHT • SOAP X CIVILIAN!READER PART 2

SCENARIO: you're a civilian who got caught up in a mission soap was on. he ends up in your care while the rest of the 141 is dealing with the mission at hand while looking for him. 

you live in a small cabin and it's quite literally in the middle of the woods. it's big enough for one or two people, so taking in soap wasn't an issue. the only issue on the table was the fact he was bleeding out...

**told in y/n pov**

+

By the time I got into town, the sun was just cresting over the mountains and illuminating the sky. I kept glancing to my phone to see if Moira send a text back on meeting me, but I didn't see anything yet.  So, I opted to go buy new clothes for Soap since he was filthy and covered in blood. He could probably use a shower too so i'll get him his own shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

I parked at the front of the small store and got out of my car, eyeing the open sign and sighing in relief. I'm never in town often since I come once or twice a month to get things I need. I just don't like people, so living alone was great.

Until Soap came into your life, a small part of me grumbled. I couldn't agree more, but I couldn't let him die. I'm not that heartless.

I walked into the store and waved to the cashier. He waved back before going on his phone again, completely engulfed in whatever he was doing. I made my way to the men's section and grabbed anything that would suit Soap. I grabbed t-shirts, henley shirts, sweatpants, sweatshirts, wool socks, underwear—anything to keep him comfortable. I didn't know what size he was, but I took a guess with a large or extra large, then moved on to toiletries. I grabbed travel sized items then went to the medical area to get bandages, ointments, and more ibuprofen and melatonin. If he's going to be with me for awhile, might as well give him a supply of his own.

I noticed a woman staring at me as I grabbed a couple bottles of men's shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. She then eyed my cart full of clothes and other medical items.

"My brother's an idiot. Forgot all his clothes at home and then had the audacity to cut himself with a kitchen knife while cooking." I grumbled at her and she walked away. I wasn't in the mood for that.

Once I got what Soap needed, I pushed my cart to the snack aisle. I grabbed three boxes of poptarts, some chips, and a jar of Tostitos queso. 

My phone buzzed on my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing a text from my pharmacist friend, Moira. I had explained to her VERY vaguely that I needed stronger medication for Soap without mentioning him, but judging from her text message, she wasn't going to give me any. I tried to convince her again, but she just told me to buy Tylenol, ibuprofen, and make sure to keep him elevated enough. After that, she completely ignored my text messages and I was left in my problems yet again.

Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I started to head in the direction of the checkout. As I walked closer, I noticed a group of armed men enter the store and the few of us in here started to panic. I stayed where I was and ducked behind the cart as if it would protect me. 

"Stay calm, everyone!" One of the men shouted, his Spanish accent heavy as he looked at everyone around him. The cashier I waved to earlier glanced to me and tried to come over. Gun shots went off and everyone screamed. The cashier fell to the ground, bullet wounds littering his body and his eyes stared at mine. 

I stood up completely when the armed men glanced at everyone.

"We're from the Las Almas cartel, and we're looking for someone who has info about our leader, El Sin Nombre. He's Special Forces—goes by the call sign Soap."

I kept my face void of emotion but I was screaming inwardly. How the hell was I going to get out of this situation alive? More importantly, why are cartel members so far up here? Like I thought before, I knew it wasn't impossible, but it was weird to me. I always thought of them as staying by the border..... I don't know if that's stereotypical or not....

"My men last saw him around this area. This is a small town. Someone must have seen a tactical-armed hombre with a stupid little mohawk?"

I almost cracked a smile and laughed at his statement, but I stayed silent. One of the men walked amongst the other terrified customers, his eyes looking over the groceries and items they had. I stared back at him when he approached me, his eyes looking at the mens clothing and toiletries in my cart.

He shouted in Spanish at me before he aimed his gun at my head. I didn't even flinch or scream when he did that, but rather stared with a bored look at my face. How was I doing this shit emotionlessly?!

"I have a name, y'know."

"You've seen him. Where?"

"I haven't seen him, you idiot. I'm buying clothes for my brother because he's a dumbass and forgot to bring his entire duffel bag to visit me."

I kept my gaze steady on the cartel member in front of me, my heart pounding against my chest and my head getting light. I kept my hands on my pockets to keep them from shaking, but I also dialed 911 by triple-pressing my lock button. 

"You don't come clean, we'll kill you!"

"Even if I kept the guy you're hunting for under my watch, you don't have evidence to prove it!"

He grabbed the front of my shirt and hit the end of his gun to my temple. He got in my face, his hot breath hitting my skin and I resisted the urge to gag from how it smelled.

"We'll kill everyone here if you don't tell us."

"Just tell them!" A bystander shouted from her cart.

"Tell them! I can't die!"

"Save us!"

"Don't kill us, please! I have a baby at home!"

I looked at the innocents around me, strategizing a way to bargain and even get everyone out alive. I didn't care what happened to me. If I died, that would insure Soap's secrecy and safety. 

But who would take care of Nic?

I sighed and nodded my head, telling them I would concede....not that I'm actually going to tell them where I live....

"Before I tell you, I want to strike a deal: everyone here gets to leave unharmed and not threatened. They remain anonymous. Second, if I tell you, I get to go free as well. Whether I'm unharmed or not, I get to go."

I happened to see something flicker from the back of a truck, then I saw someone duck down behind my car. The realization of who they were hit me and I decided now would be a good time to get out of the way.

"Anything else?" 

"Yeah. How good are your reflexes?" I threw a box of poptarts at hm before diving behind a cash register. That's when all the bullets came through and the cartel members either dropped dead or scattered. 

I tried to crawl toward one of the aisles but I was grabbed my the ankles. A remaining cartel member yanked me back, clawing at my legs and getting on top of me.

"Everyone run to the emergency exits!" I shouted and they didn't hesitate to do just that. 

My fear overwhelmed me as I started to cry and scream for help. My "tough guy" facade was no more, and now I was a sobbing mess.

"GET OFF ME!" I screamed as I kicked him in the face and crawled. 

A gun shot went off again, but this time it was me who got shot. The bullet burned into my calf and a scream ripped from my throat. I couldn't move as he grabbed me by the back of my shirt and yanked me upwards.

"You kill me, you kill this one!" The cartel member shouted as I cried. I looked out the shattered windows, seeing that the cops and Soap's team was aiming their weapons at me.

"TAKE THE SHOT!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, fearful tears streaming down my face. "TAKE THE SHOT!"

I closed my eyes and moved my head away to clear a shot. When I heard the bullet tear through the man's skull and his grip loosened, the two of us fell, except he was dead and I was a sobbing mess.

I felt someone gently place their hand on my shoulder as I cried from everything I felt. Pain, fear, trauma, my worry for my dog—hell, even Soap crossed my mind.

"You're the one who helped Johnny. Where is he?!" That familiar British accent asked me as I started to drift off.

I managed to tell him my address before completely blacking out, my head resting on my arm and tears continuing to drench my face.

+

When I woke up, I was greeted by an annoyingly bright light and the smell of disinfectant and alcohol. I blinked rapidly as I looked to my left, seeing Soap in the hospital bed beside mine. He was asleep and had oxygen tubes at his nose.

"You're awake. Finally."

I looked over at the corner to see a hooded man with a skull mask on. Only his eyes were visible and there was black smudged around them. When he stood, I couldn't help but stare. He was a unit....like, his bicep was probably the size of my head.

"No shit, Sherlock." I sighed, keeping my awe under control as he walked up to me. I could tell he was untrusting of me, but after glancing over to Soap, he loosened up a bit.

"I hear you found him?"

"More like he broke into my cabin and temporarily passed out in the bath tub. I stitched him up as best as I could and helped him rest. I just didn't expect, well, this."

I gestured to my elevated leg that was bandages heavily.

"I'm guessing you're the one Soap calls Ghost. I'm sorry I was cryptic when I replied to your 'how copy'." I did an impression of his accent and he stared back with a blank look. "I didn't mean to sound like I was holding him hostage."

The two of us went silent for a moment before the room door opened. Another man walked in, but he wasn't masked. He seemed more welcoming than Ghost but he still intimidated me.

"Y/N L/N, the one who, to an extent, saved Soap's life. While you were extremely cryptic in that response, I thank you for keeping my comrade safe. I'm also impressed with how you handled the whole hostage situation."

"Oh, that was pure adrenaline, now that I think about it. I sobbed like a baby when I dove away."

The man laughed a little and walked up to me.

"I'm Captain John Price, but you can call me John. The masked one is Ghost, and Soap is John McTavish."

"Do I get to know Ghost's real name?"

"Negative." Ghost responded and I looked away.

"Fair enough. Wait! My dog, Nic! Is she—"

"One of my men, Gaz, and two of our allies, Alejandro and Rudy, are taking care of her. If the hospital allows, we can bring her in."

I relaxed when I heard she was okay, sighing in relief as I ran a hand through my hair. I glanced to Soap when I heard him grumble and stir in his sleep. Price and Ghost immediately joined his side when he woke up, his Scottish accent hoarse and scratchy from being asleep.

"Bloody hospital..."

"Agreed." I said from my side and he looked at me. I pressed my lips together, staring at him as he stared back.

"Can I speak to Y/N alone?" Soap asked as he looked at his two friends. They glanced at me before nodding, the two leaving and Soap and I stayed silent for a moment.

I picked at my nails as Soap started to speak.

"I want to thank you. Ghost told me what you did for me while we were in the ambulance."

"It was nothing. Figured I got morals, might as well use them."

Soap laughed at my statement before looking at his hands. 

"You remind me of Ghost in a way. He's the same as you: doesn't like people but he still has the honorable morals."

"Glad I could be of service." 

Soap nodded, but I noticed his expression became solemn.

"What?"

"Once I leave, it'll be like we never met one another. I'll go back to being in the field; you'll go back to whatever you do...."

"Do you want my phone number?"

I looked at him with my eyebrow raised, the man staring in shock over me being so straightforward. I almost laughed but I didn't to keep the unfazed facade up. Inwardly, I was screeching and kicking my feet. I mean, it's not everyday a man covered in blood and grime comes into your life to make it interesting.

"That'd be nice." He replied, smiling softly as he looked back at me. I felt my cheek heat up.

"Do you have a phone I can put it in?" I managed to get out and scratched the back of my head nervously.

"How about writing it down on paper?"

"Dude, that's so middle school..." 

I looked at him, Soap completely confused about what I said but I didn't elaborate. Instead, I grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box on the bedside table and held out my hand.

"Do you have a pen?"

+   +   +

pt.3?

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 5.18 ‘The Jedi Who Knew Too Much' Reaction

I always like trying to spot which characters are in the background of big group scenes like this. So far I’ve spotted 3 admirals (Coburn, Yularen and Tarkin), assorted jedi, Master Sinube, Kit Fisto, Bail Organa and I think that’s Mon Mothma as well. 

Oh, hi again Barriss. Fancy seeing you here again! Funny that we keep meeting like this after so long.

I think that’s Ki-Adi-Mundi and Plo next to Barriss.

So, Barriss killed one of her childhood mentors? I’m probably going to collate my thoughts on Barriss at the end of this arc, rather than scattering them across various recaps. But so much of her characterisation here doesn’t make sense and doesn’t feel right, at all.

I’m not sure if I mentioned this in the recaps when Barriss first appeared, but why is she British?

There’s a shot of 6 beams of light going up from the floor so I’m presuming that means 6 Jedi died in the temple bombings, which seems like an awfully large amount. What were 6 Jedi doing in a hanger of the temple? 1 or 2, maybe 3 at a stretch, makes sense, but 6? I’m guessing this is a story telling decision to make it more impactful, rather than for any logical in-universe reason.

I really despise Tarkin.

Oh, so now the deaths of clones are convenient for you Tarkin. “Military matter” my arse.

Who are the military police? Is that not the Coruscant Guard? I know the general fandom take is that the Corries are saddled with having to do everything but is that the case in canon?

Ahsoka’s angry attitude is definitely going to come back and bite her in the arse later.

“Remember, revenge is not the Jedi way.” says the future DARTH VADER

“Nothing will ever change.” FORESHADOWING KLAXON

Ok, Tarkin is getting very close to being up there with Krell and Nolan. His fucking contemptuous finger waggle at Ahsoka. Ugh.

“I assure you that he [Palps] rarely does anything without a strategy.” Oh, if only you knew Tarkin. Or maybe he does? Hmmm.

Is Barriss a Jedi Knight here or is she still a Padawan? I haven’t seen Luminara anywhere so I’m guessing she’s a Knight by now.

Barriss seems a lot more conflicted and upset than I thought for someone that’s just bombed the Jedi temple and killed a childhood mentor who clearly meant a lot to her. Maybe she’s regretting what she’s done? Hmmm, not sure.

Saleucami! I hope Cut and Suu and the kids are doing ok.

Lmao that ominous brass section was not subtle. FOREBODING KLAXON

Why do they have the Venator shipping yards next to the prison?

That shot of the prison felt very Imperial Empire. All stark architecture, sharp shadows, black and white lighting, red flags and giant symbols everywhere. It’s interesting how Imperial iconography and visuals are starting to creep into Republic locations and situations. Something something visual metaphor about the end approaching.

Why is the memorial to the clones outside the prison? Or is this not the prison and is some other building? Is this the same clone memorial that Crosshair and Cody have their little chat in front of in The Bad Batch?

Corries! Wow, they do all match and have exactly the same armour paint. 

FOX!

That grumpy “Yes?” spoke volumes.

Fox, can you not cross your arms properly? What was that? I’m guessing it was more of a functional animation limitation than Fox not actually being unable to cross his arms. Insert your own fandom theories here about injuries that Palps inflicted on him while torturing him or similar that meant he can't cross his arms. Maybe he's got Force lightning burns across his back and it's painful and pulls when he moves too much.

The scan has Ahsoka standing there with her arms out but then the next shot of her is with her arms crossed? Continuity, hello?

At “Leave your comlink and lightsabers here.” Fox gestures down with his index and middle finger outstretched next to each other and oh boy did my mind go straight to the horny bin.

“Follow me.” Omg Fox did you have to say that in such a low, husky voice? That had a distinct feel of ‘Come with me if you want to live’ about it. If Fox basically whispered that to me it’d be “Sir, yes Sir, immediately Sir, however you want me Sir.”

The reference to the first 4 notes of the Imperial March theme there was pretty damn obvious. I remember reading a really interesting theory that Fox was a prototype for Vader and basically functioned as Palps’ attack dog before he turned Anakin to the Dark Side. I wish I could find it again because it was a fascinating read and might explain the presence of the Imperial March here. The music for the entire scene from when Ahsoka entered the prison was particularly foreboding, which makes sense seeing as it’s a prison. However, I’m not entirely sure who the theme is referencing because I don’t think it’s Ahsoka and Anakin isn’t here. Or perhaps it’s just adding to the general foreboding atmosphere. It’s entirely possible I’m reading too much into this.

Surely there are cameras and microphones recording this information that Letta is telling Ahsoka?

Is Barriss Force choking Letta from outside the prison? If so, then she’s fallen quite a long way to the Dark side because that seems like quite a powerful use of the Force.

That shot from the camera in the cell is definitely going to make it look like Ahsoka is the one choking Letta. And how convenient, the feed from that camera just cut out too.

Lmao Fox didn’t even hesitate. He was ready to fuck shit up. 

Oh hey, Fox also duel wields. 

Hmmm, I’m not sure how I feel about Fox immediately arresting Ahsoka. I think this is another example of the struggle I have with canon Fox vs fanon Fox. I’m going to have to collate my thoughts on that somewhere as well, probably after the chip conspiracy arc *sobs*. I think I’ve come to the realisation that I’m going to have to treat them as completely separate characters. I adore the version of Fox that the fandom has created. And every time I see the tiny bits of canon Fox that we get, it’s almost like a disappointment compared to the depth and layers of fanon Fox, to the point that canon Fox almost feels out of character. I know he doesn’t have any choice in the matter (none of the clones do) and I’m viewing this from an outside perspective looking in. I guess it’s more of an interesting conundrum to be aware of.

That shot of the prison felt even more evil Imperial Empire than the first one.

Great, fucking Tarkin again. Accompanied by hints of the Imperial March while marching down a stark corridor with harsh, ominous lighting. Definitely leaning on the Imperial Empire visuals this episode.

Called it. The footage from the cell is being used to frame Ahsoka as choking Letta. And the sound didn’t work either. How convenient.

Called it again. Tarkin using Ahsoka’s earlier attitude against her. Attitude doesn’t feel like the right word but it’s far too early in the morning and I can’t think of the right one.

Tarkin makes understandable points if this was some kind of detached, impersonal debate about an imaginary situation. But it’s not. He’s just being a deliberately abusive bastard. Definitely getting up there with Krell and Nolan.

Anakin being very Dark Side there when threatening Fox.

Who is helping Ahsoka escape? Is it Barriss? I don’t think it’s Anakin because he arrives after Ahsoka escapes. Plus clones were killed and injured and while we just saw Anakin threaten them and be all very Dark Side about it, I don’t think he’s fallen far enough to that level of Sithliness yet. 

Utterly unnecessary acrobatics but ok.

“If you see the target, shoot to kill.” Oh no, that is some painful foreshadowing right there.

Fucking yes, thank you Rex. Knew we could count on Rex to believe in Ahsoka. 

“Then who did?” Fox asking the question we’re all wondering.

Why is Anakin telling Rex to call security when Fox, the Commander of the Coruscant Guard, is right there? Surely he is the security?

How does Anakin telling Rex to tell security to search the entire base translate to an all-points bulletin on Ahsoka?

You can really tell from Rex’s voice how much this is affecting him. How he can’t believe that Ahsoka could do this. It was almost like he didn’t want to issue the order that he had to. I’m really glad that someone apart from Anakin believes Ahsoka, and that it’s Rex. Of course we could rely on our king. He can’t actually do anything to help her though. None of the clones can. They’re slaves. They have to follow orders. But at least we actually get to see that Rex doesn’t believe Ahsoka is capable of this and that he believes her, and believes in her. We’ve seen Rex’s belief and trust in Ahsoka crop up a few times now. The most obvious being his defence of her to Tarkin in the Citadel arc. 

Complete switch of tone but Rex, do you ever clean your armour? I know he’s busy fighting a war and all that but I’ve noticed his armour being especially dirty in a number of episodes now. It’s particularly noticeable on his bucket. That’s a lot of gunk and grime across the top of his visor.

Wtf is that giant vehicle and isn’t that just a little bit of overkill for trying to find one Jedi Padawan? I feel like there’s a point about excessive police violence in there somewhere.

So many of the shots of the prison feel very Imperial Empire. They’d barely have to change anything to make the switch from the Republic to the Empire. That’s probably the point too.

Grizzer!

Hound sounded distinctly Aussie there. More funkiness happening with the clones' accents.

Thunder and lightning? That is hilariously on the nose.

Clone troopers shooting like stormtroopers. Fanon Fox would not stand for this lack of accuracy from his Corries. He has standards and he expects them to be met.

Jhc they just used a canon to fire on a child. Fuck me that is far too excessive.

“Set weapons to stun.” The foreshadowing is causing me great, deep pain.

Ahsoka is deflecting stun bolts so I’m guessing the training that happens in episode 5 ‘Practice Makes Perfect’ of Tales of the Jedi has happened already? I wish I could find a resource of where all these episodes happen in the timeline and around which dates they happen as well.

We need to talk about the kama, because I am now utterly befuddled about which clones can get one. 

Hound has a kama, but he’s an ARF (Advanced Recon Force) Scout Trooper. 

The other ARF trooper in the Coruscant Guard also has a kama. 

Fox has a kama and he’s a clone commander and the Commander of the Coruscant Guard but he isn’t listed as having ARC training. 

I think I’ve seen other Corrie Guard commanders with kama’s as well. 

Rex, Fives and Echo (and eventually Jesse) all have kama's and they are ARCs. 

Cody is a clone commander and The Marshal Commander but he doesn’t have a kama and isn’t listed as having ARC training (I cannot believe that The Marshal Commander Cody doesn’t have ARC training but that’s another point for another time). 

Ponds had a kama and was a clone commander but isn’t listed as having ARC training. 

Bly is a Marshal Commander and has ARC training and has a kama. 

Wolffe is a clone commander and has a kama but isn’t listed as having ARC training (I also can’t believe that Wolffe doesn’t have ARC training either but that’s the same point as Cody so for another time). 

Keeli was a captain, not a commander, isn’t listed as having ARC training but did have a kama. 

So what decides whether a clone can have a kama or not? I thought it was an ARC thing but clearly not seeing as other clones that aren’t ARCs can have one.

They’re mobilising a giant rolling tank thing and gunships to hunt down a child? This is definitely beyond excessive. I know at this point Ahsoka is considered armed and dangerous but she’s also A Child. This just feels completely excessive and cruel. And not that far removed from the Empire, which, again, is probably the point.

And now it’s raining. Because of course it is.

“Do not shoot to kill.” I hate all of this foreshadowing. All of it.

What are these pipelines supposed to be for? I’m guessing not petrol seeing as nothing has exploded yet.

That is a lot of skill from Ahsoka to be able to deflect multiple repeated stun bolts while sprinting flat out.

Did you just really fire on a child with a fucking rocket launcher?!

Oddball, what are you doing? I know you’re just following orders but you don’t have to sound so gleeful about it. Also, why is his helmet yellow? Actually that kind of looks like 212th orange. I thought Oddball was in the 501st? A quick google says he’s in the 212th but none of the search results seem particularly definitive or legit. If he is part of the 212th, what is he doing on Coruscant? We saw Obi-Wan on a holocall at the start of the episode talking about going to the Anoat system so presumably the 212th is there, and not on Coruscant?

Is this the first time we see Ahsoka do the move of cutting a hole in the floor with her lightsaber?

Ah, so the pipes are for water. Or at least I think they are.

Anakin is looking particularly conflicted and upset throughout all of this.

TW: Discussion of abuse below. If you want to skip this, it's the section between the three dashes '---'

---

That exchange at the end between Ahsoka and Anakin was very interesting. Anakin is making some fairly reasonable and understandable points, which is intriguing given he’s characterised as the opposite of that most of the time. It’s another insight into how complex of a character he is. I think TCW has done a very good job of showing not only the depth and complexity to Anakin’s character but also how much more there was to his fall to the Dark Side. He is undoubtedly aggressive, possessive, abusive, and dangerous. Yet he’s also being groomed by a monster in a position of power that no one even notices or realises before it’s all too late. He was also a slave and had an abusive and traumatic childhood and seems to falling into the pattern of how abusees can often turn into abusers.

Amongst all of this, you can also see how much he cares for those who mean a lot to him. He and Rex are the only ones that believe Ahsoka, but Anakin is the only one in any meaningful position of power with the ability to do something about it. It’s plainly obvious how much he cares for Ahsoka.

However, that care and belief still veers too far into aggression and possession and he continues to cross the line multiple times with unacceptable actions and behaviour. I wonder if he lets Ahsoka go at the end of the episode because he trusts her or because he doesn’t know what to do?

---

Ahsoka was also making wholly valid and understandable points, which I think Anakin knew as well, even as he was trying to convince her to come back. Is this the first time we hear Ahsoka call Anakin by his first name? She usually calls him ‘Master’ or ‘Skyguy’ and her use of his first name here feels particularly personal and loaded with meaning. I’m glad Ahsoka knows that at least Anakin trusts and believes her, even when no one else does.

I wanted to include this gif because look at Rex looking like James Bond in the background being framed by the pipe.

Then this gif and the two above made me realise another thing about Anakin.

TW: Discussion of abuse and domestic violence below. If you want to skip this, it's the section between the three dashes '---'

---

As much as Anakin cares about Ahsoka and is trying to help her, his possession and controlling is very evident here. The way he said "I would never let anyone hurt you Ahsoka" felt very much like something a domestic abuser would say after hurting their partner. Or what a possessive and controlling domestic abuser would say to their partner. There's a dangerous and desperate edge to it. You can also see Anakin doesn't agree with what Ahsoka is doing and is angry at her for not doing it his way. He thinks his way is the best way to try and fix this and of course he immediately gets pissed as soon as someone doesn't do what he says and follows what he thinks should be done. Anakin is refusing to let Ahsoka go, even while trying to help her. His possession and controlling is still here, even if it isn't as overt as when he's with Padmé.

---

The voice acting throughout TCW has been pretty damn excellent and Ahsoka is no different. Ashley Eckstein did a fantastic job. But it felt like it stepped up another level, particularly in that exchange between Ahsoka and Anakin at the end. There was so much emotion and upset and betrayal in Ahsoka’s voice. 

There is the subtlest of hints of the Imperial March after Ahsoka jumps and we get a shot of Anakin, Rex and Fox at the mouth of the tunnel, followed by a shot of Ahsoka falling. It’s very subtle, probably the subtlest I’ve heard throughout the whole series but it’s definitely there. The intervals between the notes of the Imperial March are very distinct. Again, I’m not sure what it’s referencing or emphasising here. Probably Anakin seeing as he does turn into Darth Vader. But like the scene earlier where Ahsoka first enters the prison, it also feels slightly out of place. Usually when the Imperial March turns up, it’s fairly clear that it’s referring to Anakin, like when he killed Merrik in ‘Voyage of Temptation’. It could also be a misdirection to make Ahsoka appear to be falling to the Dark side. Though that doesn’t entirely make sense seeing as we know that she didn’t kill Letta and is being set up. Hmmm. 

I know it’s meant to be a big climactic ending to the episode but couldn’t Anakin just follow Ahsoka and jump down onto the ship that she’s standing on that’s floating down the giant tunnel? And couldn’t Fox just comm some Corries to follow the ship and meet it when it lands? He is the Commander of the Coruscant Guard after all.   

That episode was intense and A Lot. And there’s still 2 episodes of this arc to go. Oof.

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

Magic

In the sub-genre of horror films about ventriloquist’s dummies, DEAD OF NIGHT (1945), with Michael Redgrave tormented by his doll, is the gold standard. It’s no insult to suggest that Richard Attenborough’s MAGIC (1978, Shudder, Peacock, Prime, Tubi, AMC+, Plex — damn, this film is anybody’s) is no DEAD OF NIGHT, and Anthony Hopkins no Redgrave. But despite a strong middle section and a few really good performances, the problems go deeper than that.

The film’s opening act is very 1970s, with showy editing tricks and sudden jumps in time. Hopkins is a failed magician. Instead of showing his disastrous act as it unfolds, the script shows bits of it as he discusses it with his dying mentor (E.J. Andre, who manages to overact while sleeping). Suddenly we cut to Hopkins as a successful ventriloquist who’s selling out performances with Fats, the “first X-rated dummy on the block.” On the verge of signing a big TV contract, he panics and runs off to his hometown in the Catskills and reconnects with his teen crush (Ann-Margret), now unhappily married to a brutish failure (Ed Lauter). Before long it’s clear that Fats is calling the shots, including getting Hopkins to kill anybody he perceives as a threat. Unfortunately, the finale is predictable with an added touch of cheesy irony as a coda. And Attenborough cheats by including shots that suggest Fats can move of his own volition (he later said one of those was a mistake he left in because it looked creepy, thus sacrificing logic for a cheap horror effect).

The middle section, in which Hopkins and Ann-Margret fall in love, is the best part of the film and suggests what Attenborough could have done as a director had he stuck to smaller films instead of moving into mind- and butt-numbing epics. The two are utterly charming together, and Ann-Margret, with little makeup and drabber than usual hair, is an absolute stunner. She totally inhabits her small-town beauty queen coping with the harsh realities of adulthood, so much so that when things get violent the thought that Hopkins might turn on her is unbearable. Unfortunately, when things get violent Hopkins goes a little too far over the top. This isn’t the controlled sociopathy of his later Hannibal Lecter, but rather the kind of strident, over-insistent emotional mugging critics often mistake for great acting. Ann-Margret’s quietly realistic work tends to wipe him off the screen. Burgess Meredith is also quite good and understated as Hopkins’ agent, a role he modeled on Swifty Lazar though he also seems to be channeling George Burns. There are also bits by Lillian Randolph, David Ogden Stiers and Jerry Houser.

[sylviegunpla]

Gunpla: Completed Collection of Minis: Part 4: Gundam SEED

Next is the SEED Figures. These guys will have a lot of cockpit shots because i already finished off most of their models (though a couple of them were back before i was doing water slides, and just using the decal-stickers and dry-rubs that came with most non-ver-ka MGs)

PG Astray Red Frame: Lowe Gule

This was done before i had access to my magnifying binoculars. The panel lining was actually done with gundam panel line marker, over Mr. Super Clear Gloss. This kinda turned out well. However, his "brother" (the pilot figurine) wasn't so lucky: (under the cut)

This one i started panel lining, then messed up and erased, and it wound up not coming off right. So i just didn't bother and went ahead and finished it with a flat coat, no nuln oil for detailing or anything. BTW, the way i captured that backshot gives me an idea for what i could do with suit-less pilots.... but i'll leave that for another day. Anyway, i actually already water slide decaled his suit, so i could take pictures of him in the cockpit!

Oops, got a little carried away there.

moving on...

MG Strike Rouge + Ootori: Cagalli Yula Athha

This was THE first figure i tried nuln oil on. However, it turned out kinda messy, because it was a tutorial my friend was showing me. HOWEVER HOWEVER, i managed to recover it without too much work! I think she looks decent overall.

The pilot figurine was also finished with Nuln Oil, but after i knew what i was doing. I think she turned out a bit better.

Next, we're gonna go behind the scenes and see some of the movie magic i use to make it seem like these guys are in fully constructed models (I already tricked you with the post about the Hi-nu!)

Some basic shots showing the cockpit hatch structure.

And now you can't tell again that it's not complete!

The hatch is now closed. We move onto another pink gundam:

MG Infinite Justice: Athrun Zala

I finished him with only a little bit of panel liner, down the middle of his chest, and nuln oil on the face. A little blobby/messy but still achieves a decent effect from afar.

Here's the pilot figurine. No backshot because i pretty much left his back unfinished. You have to constantly change the thing holding the figure in order to paint certain sections and i was getting tired of trying to do the back.

His cockpit operates very simply, so i only have a few shots:

Yup, there he is. He's actually mostly fully built because i had to detach him from the sick ass plane he normally hangs from. Yes, the mecha suit i mean hangs from a plane. It's so sick, i'll have pictures in another post dedicates to this kit.

BONUS: So, for a while, i had this figurine that i THOUGHT was the pilot figurine for this kit. But then one day i opened up the cockpit hatch and saw the figurine. So who is this guy? what kit does he come from? I'm not even sure if it comes from a PG (1/60) or an MG (1/100), it seems closer in size to the PGs though. You can see i attempted to start painting it in Athrun Zala colors. I actually finished it but it looked so weird trying to force the sculpt to match the image. My friend thinks the sculpt looks like it could be a specific pilot outfit that Kira Yamato wears. It's equally likely it might be a Mu from a PG Sky Grasper. Can anyone positively identify the kit this figurine comes from? The few possibilities we think it might be are kits my friend used to have, but lost due to Moving Shenanigans. so we cannot confirm that those kits are missing pilots. ANyway, moving on, to the final figures:

2x RG Strike Freedom: Kira Yamato

Why do i have two of these guys? Because i have two of the kits! The Strike Freedom was the first RG I assembled, in 2020. In 2021, i got P-Bandai's "Titanium Finish" release of the exact same kit. Thus, i had two Kira Yamatos to paint. These both were painted in my first run of minis in Fall 2023, and they are the last of such minis to be shown off here! I did not panel line them, hell you can tell that getting the stripes on their tiny pilot suits was hard enough. They're very messy and have bad color separation. Honestly, i might try redoing one of them now that i have magnifying goggles. It would be worth it. And as a reminder, since these came with an RG, they are 1/144 scale, so a bit tinier than most of the others i've shown off (which are 1/60 or 1/100).

I believe that does it for Part 4. I just barely had enough image slots for all these pictures, but sadly not enough for some "gags" i wanted to do. there would have been 3 more images in the set of 6 pictures of Lowe Gule boarding the Astray Red Frame, but i had to cut them for extra space. To read part 5, Click This Link!

[redrobinhoods]

the fruit of war | chapter seven

AO3 Link | 1,500 words | Chapter 6

Story Summary: The Clone Wars have begun. Riyo Chuchi is less than a year into her role as Senator for Pantora when the Coruscant Guard arrives and the war upheaves everything she knew. In a changing galaxy, Riyo strives to find her place in a deteriorating Senate as the men of the Coruscant Guard try to fill a role they were not prepared to take up.

By the time Thorn reached his office Thire and Scout were already there in the same positions as they had been the day before.

“Looking sharp.” Thorn said when they glanced up at his entrance. “Scout, may I ask a favor from you?”

Thire cut him off. “He knows.”

Thorn nodded, looking between the two men before closing the door. He brought his chair around to their side of the desk and sat, looking between the two of them. “I have a plan. It’s a poor plan, but it’s a plan.” He had stayed up far too late the previous night only to draw the same conclusions as Thire. But he had found more.

“Tell me.” Thire demanded.

“The medics don’t care about our health. They only care if we can carry out our duties.”

Scout shot Thorn a look that said, ‘we know.’

“You’re not going to fool a scan, but, all you need to do is prove significant progress, right?”

Thire’s brow rose. He and Scout wore matching looks of skepticism. “So, how am I going to make significant progress?”

“They medically cleared me even with ongoing necrosis.” Thire and Scout’s faces twisted into discomfort. “So I am willing to bet that they’ll clear you with a superficial recovery. You’re going to walk in there and walk out. No crutches.”

“Thorn, I can’t even stand for a short shower.” Thire protested.

“You have a week. Every hour on the hour you are going to walk to Stone’s office and back, without crutches. I don’t expect this to help but I expect you to learn how to fake it. Walk in and out of your appointment next week. And lie to the medical droids. That’s all you have to do.”

Thire’s look was not one of assurance.

“Do it now.” Thorn said, opening the office door and leaning back in his chair.

Thire glared at him but complied.

Scout moved closer to Thorn as they watched Thire take shaking steps across the office space, then turn around to walk back towards them. He was barely to Fox’s door before his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor.

“You’re doing great!” Thorn called.

When Thire raised the middle finger of his right hand to him Thorn burst out into laughter.

-

Riyo hoped the anxiety in her chest was not written across her face as she sat in the seat beside Senator Organa in his office. This section of the building, Cantham House, was different than the rest of the Senate. For one, she knew him to live here during his time on Coruscant, and the other differences came because of that. There was no single desk in the great room, but a couch across from the chairs on which they sat. While it was grand it was still homely, more than even her apartment could be said to be.

“This is very good.” Senator Organa said as he continued to look over the datapad. “But I must ask, where did you find the historic trade records?”

“The Senate Archives.” She answered, trying and failing to hide the small smile of pride at his compliment. “There’s some books that have yet to be digitized that I found helpful for my calculations.”

“You must send me their titles.” Senator Organa said as he looked up from the datapad, turning to face her. “I will bring this to my trade representatives for their opinions, but, I do not anticipate any refusals. You have argued well for Pantora.”

“Thank you, Senator Organa.” Riyo said.

When he rose from his seat she mirrored him, clasping his outstretched hand in a handshake.

“Please let me know if there is any feedback for me to address.” She said as he walked her to the door of the suite.

“Certainly. I hope to see you this afternoon, Senator Chuchi.”

“I will be there, Senator Organa.” She would never have passed up on the opportunities that came to her for committee discussions.

The walk back to her office from Cantham House was long, but it flew by as she bristled with pride and Senator Organa’s approval. When she had become senator, he had been one of the few she had hoped to gain mentorship from. That hope was still there and brimming when she reached her office.

Riyo had just set her hand on the control panel when a red painted clone trooper approached.

“Yes?” She turned to face him.

“Senator Chuchi, I’m here to inspect your office bunker.” The clone said.

“Wonderful, do come in.” She opened the door and ushered the man inside. “It’s there under the desk.” Goddess knew she had hit the hidden button in her desk drawer too many times. She pulled her chair away, allowing him access, before opening the drawer and pressing the button, hidden under more loose flimsiplast she had shoved into the drawer the afternoon prior. “Please, forgive the mess.”

“No worries, Senator.” The trooper said as he slid underneath the desk, climbing down the short ladder into the bunker beneath.

She waited, leaning on the back of the chair as the trooper ran his inspection. When the door had shut then reopened and he crawled back up the ladder she straightened.

“All good, Senator.”

“Thank you, Trooper. Would you like some tea or water?”

He squirmed a little. “I couldn’t intrude, Senator.”

“I insist.”

She met the black gaze of his helmet until he complied. “Some water would be lovely, thank you, Senator Chuchi.”

“Wonderful.” She quickly crossed the room to the small cabinet of food and drinks for entertainment, and enough caf to get her through the week. “What is your name?” She asked as she grabbed a small cup and the water jug.

“Edge, ma’am.”

“Well,” she quickly moved to the now helmetless clone trooper with the freshly poured cup of water, “thank you, Edge, for ensuring my safety.”

Edge whispered a small thanks for the cup of water before taking a sip. He looked so young. If he had been a normal man, not a clone, she would’ve guessed he was still in his childhood studies. It made her wonder if all the clones in the senate were the same age.

“Thank you again, Senator Chuchi.” Edge said when he had finished the water, looking around for a place to set his cup.

“And thank you, Edge.” Riyo said, taking the cup from him. “I must thank Commander Thorn for sending you here to ensure my safety, I tend to run into him in the halls.”

Edge cringed a little. “With all due respect, Senator, you may want to wait another day or two. He’s in a bad mood.”

“Oh? Did something happen?”

“I don’t know. May just be sore from the new armor.”

Riyo nodded slowly as she walked Edge to the door. “I will consider that if I see him. Have a good day, Edge.”

When the door shut behind him, Riyo set her mind to clearing off her workspace before lunchtime.

-

Fox’s brows knit in concentration as he hit the turbolift button with his finger, trying not to upset the tray of his and Stone’s food.

“Looking forward to your day of rest?” Thorn asked when the doors shut and the turbolift began to move.

“Actually, I was thinking that I could pull rank and have you and Stone fetch our meals every day.”

“You’re a cruel man.”

Fox didn’t need to see Thorn’s face to know what expression lay beneath his helmet.

“It seems the power’s gone to my head.” But because it was Thorn, Fox let him have a bit of honesty. “And I’m anxious about the Chancellor popping in to see the new armor.”

The turbolift doors opened and they stepped out, heading towards the offices.

“You don’t think Stone and I can handle him?”

“I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“C’mon, Fox. Our men misbehaving? The Corrie Guard is a well-oiled machine already!”

When the office doors opened, Fox sighed.

The clamor inside faded in an instant as the office sergeants and lieutenants turned to see their commanding officer.

“What is that?” Fox asked as he and Thorn entered the room.

“We thought you’d be gone longer.” Sergeant Dock said apologetically.

Fox set his tray of food down on one of the desks before walking over to the center of the room where all the men were gathered. Sixteen sergeants, three lieutenants, and Scout sat on the floor in a circle. Fox didn’t immediately recognize the machine in Lieutenant Bravo’s hand, but when he glanced down to the flimsiplast on the floor he sighed. “Where did you get that?”

Sergeant Faryn answered. “It was confiscated this morning. We weren’t planning on tattooing anyone today-”

Behind Fox, Thorn choked down a laugh.

“Put that back in evidence, now.” Fox growled, stepping back to grab his lunch. “If any of you try to use that machine in this office you will be demoted in rank.”

As the men scattered, Fox looked up to see Stone leaning against the door of his office.

“You were supposed to be watching them!” Fox hissed at Stone as he met them inside Fox’s office.

Stone shrugged, falling into his chair. “They were having a good time.”

[aberrant-webnovel]

Chapter 8 - Back to HQ

Chapter 8 - Back to HQ

My alarm started blaring early in the morning. 7AM. I slapped the bar on top and silenced it before lumbering out of bed. I needed a few seconds more to clear the fog from sleeping.

After switching the snooze off from the alarm and disabling it, I set it back down.

"Time to get ready."

I spent a bit collecting an outfit together for the day. Green tank. Sand colored cargo pants. Combat boots.

"Maybe not."

I thought for a bit about it and changed out the shirt. I didn't want to wear exactly what I saw that woman from yesterday wearing. A black tank would be better.

After getting clean underwear and socks, I found a clean towel.

"Let's get ready then."

I left my room with my outfit and towel. I slept in sweats and no shirt so I just stayed like that.

There was a bathroom with a shower upstairs and downstairs, but I could hear the shower upstairs in use. Mom sometimes got up at this time, too. That might be her. I'll go use the downstairs shower.

I took the stairs down and meandered passed the dining room and kitchen to the bathroom.

I knocked just in case. No answer.

Safe to open, then. So I pushed open the door and entered.

My clothes were best left on a nearby shelf and I hung my towel on a hook next to the standing shower. It's a big glass box with opaque walls. Can't really see inside very well even if there isn't steam. Once the shower was hot, it was totally impossible to see into.

I stripped and left my pants on the shelf with my new outfit. I didn't have anything else on.

The door squeaked when I opened it. Wasn't too loud. Shouldn't bother Silva's sleep.

The tile flooring inside was cold. We can change that by running the hot water though. Better turn it on right away.

I turned the water on and waited outside the box for minute while it heated. Then once the steam was coming through, I entered.

I was still half asleep, but this should wake me up pretty quick.

Ten minutes later, I was out of the shower and toweling off.

Curious about my healing, I looked myself over in a mirror over the sink.

I lifted my arms and looked at my torso. There was no damage to be seen. No bruises. There was no pain either. But one major change did occur.

My muscles were insanely toned compared to the day before. My abs were cut into a clear six sections. My pecs had clear definition around them now. Both of these features were pretty lean just yesterday.

I looked my arm definition. My shoulders were wider, biceps and triceps clearly defined. My forearms weren't bulging, but had a significant amount improvement.

My thighs and calves showed very similar growth. Not too many changes in my face other than my skin growing a bit clearer. My hair didn't change, either. Still kinda short, but wavy and a bit of an orange-blonde.

Of everything I just observed, I felt only one major concern.

"I couldn't have grown any taller though?"

Despite everything, I really did wonder why I didn't grow any taller. I was the same height as always when I looked into this mirror. 5 feet 8 inches.

"I gotta show Silva. But first, pants."

I made sure I was totally dried off and then slipped on my undies and pants. The rest can wait. I'll just leave it here and get dressed later.

I shot out of the bathroom and through the house towards the stairs. Carefully, I ran up the stairs. Then I moved to the guest room and opened the door. I didn't bother knocking.

Silva was frozen in shock in the middle of the room. Looks like she just got up and was about to get ready. Luckily, she was in a very modest night gown.

"Sorry, shoulda knocked."

"I'm still asleep."

"Huh?"

Silva blinked a few times and just stared at me without moving or changing expression.

"A very muscly man who looks a lot like Ymir came into my room without knocking. I must still be dreaming. It's all too weird."

"If you're dreaming, then I'm dreaming too. But I'm pretty sure this is real."

"No way."

"Yes way."

A few more seconds of awkward staring.

"I'm awake and this is real?"

"Yes! Just stop looping!"

"Did the stim do this?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I'm going to see Dr. Eugene today."

"What the…?"

We stood in silence for a short bit until Silva got a hold of herself.

"If you're heading to HQ today, then I'll come with. Wait up for me?"

"Sure. I'll get breakfast ready."

"Get dressed first. The muscles are creeping me out."

"Fine."

I went back downstairs. Made way to the bathroom and collected my clothes. I changed into my outfit there, but left my sweats from last night on the shelf. I'll collect them for laundry at some point later. Gotta make breakfast first.

I get to the kitchen and check the fridge and cupboards. Not too many options. I have uncooked rice and a few fresh veggies. Six eggs. There's still some leftovers from last night, too.

Omelet with veggies. I'll steam the rice. What we don't eat, I'll just have extra to cook with later.

Gonna have to leave mom with just leftovers until I can bring back some groceries. I planned on picking up some yesterday after the testing, but things went a little bit crazier than I had anticipated. Either way, I'll do that after I see the doctor. I'll be sure to buy extra since Silva is going to be staying with us.

I get to cooking. I'm comfortable in the kitchen. Feels good to move around and make food.

While I'm cooking, every action feels just extra easy. The pans are lighter. I'm moving quicker. I feel more aware of everything I'm doing.

I spent about fifteen washing the rice until the water was perfectly clear. We had a rice cooker that I pulled out and got the rice in there with enough water. About right as I was turning it on, I saw my mom start walking toward me.

[Is there enough there for everyone to eat?]

"There is, yeah. Need to shop later though. Gotta stock up with Silva here for a few days.

[You look different. What is it?]

"Oh, well it's a few things."

I walked away from the kitchen. The stove wasn't on yet and the rice would take a bit. It was fine to ignore breakfast a few more minutes and just talk to mom.

I got near and flexed my arms to show the growth and grinned a big smile.

"Woke up with some changes. Abs and legs are all toned up, too."

[Creepy.]

Mom had kind of a weird look on her face. Disgust and confusion.

"Silva said that too. I doesn't look that bad, right?"

[You don't look bad? But it's a big change. Happened too fast.]

"I'm gonna see a doctor at HQ today. Might know something."

[Definitely find out.]

"Now go relax and wait for breakfast. I'll get Silva when I finish up."

[Yes, sir!]

Mom signed that with a goofy smile and gave me a sloppy salute. Then she went into the living room. I could hear our display turn on and a newscast start. Didn't know what was being said, but mom did like to stay on top of what was going on around us.

The rest of breakfast wasn't hard to get ready. I've made omelets plenty of times. So once those were finished, I paddled out some steamed white rice.

"Okay, mom! Food is ready! I'm going to go get Silva."

I walked to the stairs and passed mom on the way. She gave me a quick peck kiss on the side of the head before I went upstairs.

"Yo, Silva. Food is ready."

I knocked a few times on her door, but got no response. After a few seconds, I could hear the shower running. She did want to come with me today. Makes sense that she would want to shower.

I knocked on the bathroom door and cracked it just enough to yell inside.

"Food is ready! Finish up and come eat!"

"Huh? Oh sure. I was getting out in a minute. I'll be right there."

I could hear her squeak the handle and turn off the water. I closed the door before even hearing the shower door open, then went downstairs.

Mom had collected all our plates and set them on the dining table with utensils for us. I sat down at the table with mom to my right at the head seat. Silva had a spot set for her on my left.

Rather than starting to eat right away, my mom and I just started a casual conversation. Mostly just figuring out what today would include for us both.

A couple minutes later, Silva had made her way downstairs. She was fully dressed for the day, but still had some wet hair. Might have to let her blow dry it before we leave.

Silva had a very modest and cute style if I had to say so. Blue was her favorite color so she made it a big part of her look. Her shirt was a white button up with frilly blue trim on it. She wore a short tie that was also blue. Blue skirt that goes down to her knees. Thigh high white socks. Blue flats to walk in. Right now her long hair was tied back with a white ribbon.

The whole family was assembled now! Time to eat!

"Thank you for cooking, Ymir."

"Of course!"

Mom tapped me on the shoulder while I responded to Silva.

[As always, thank you. It looks good.]

I saw her sign that to me when I turned back to look at her.

"I'll cook something even better for dinner tonight. Silva can come shopping with me so I can bring home even more"

"Sounds fun. Haven't had to go shopping in a while. Mom usually does it."

We continued to enjoy our time together. Once everyone started eating, conversation slowed down quite a bit.

Hard to speak or sign while trying to eat. Thank you, everyone. For loving my food.

My mom waited for both Silva and I to finish and then collected the dishes. She usually washed the dishes after every meal.

[If you cook for me, I want to clean up for you.]

That's how she put it back when I started cooking. It just kinda stuck as our routine.

"I've got a couple things to pick up around here before I'm good to go. You gonna be ready to leave soon?"

"Yeah, just need to fully dry my hair. It doesn't look great when it's wet."

"I'm going to collect sheets and stuff for the wash. You mind if I grab the sheet from your room?"

"Go for it. I'll be upstairs in the bathroom."

We parted ways at the table. Silva went upstairs right away. I stopped by the bathroom downstairs and collected my pants. After that, I went upstairs to get the sheets from my bed and Silva's. It was easy to collect mine, but Silva somehow gets everything tangled in a huge mess so I had to fight it a bit.

Laundry obtained! The washing units were in the upstairs bathroom so I just left a basket over by the door. A hair dryer could be heard inside so I thought it'd be best to just let her finish up being going in there.

I just went back to my room. A few of the notes on my desk were placed haphazardly. Might as well tidy up until I can do laundry. I just picked up and organized for a few minutes.

Two knocks.

"Come in."

Silva opened the door. He hair was perfectly fluffy and dry now.

"I saw the laundry outside the door so I started it for you. I'm ready to go now if you are."

"If you already started the laundry, then I'm fine to leave. Let's get going.

Silva and I hurried downstairs. Mom was in the living room watching newscasts. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her in a hug. I kissed the side of her head and then let go.

"I love you, mom. I won't let them keep me too late today."

[Wait up, Ymir. I have something for you.]

"Hm?"

Mom got up from the couch and grabbed a small wooden case that was in front of her on the coffee table. She handed that to me.

[Open it.]

I saw her sign that and opened it right away. Inside are metal tags on a steel chain. I picked them up and read them aloud.

"Captain Magni Sorenson. B-Rank. Runner Corps."

Second tag.

"Fighting for my wife Delilah and my son Ymir."

The tears were about to break the dam! Close the flow! Stop it! Now!

"Mom, these are dad's tags."

I looked up at my mother. She was sobbing and smiling at me. Her hands were a bit shaky, but she still got the words out.

[Please carry your father's love with you. Let him protect you.]

At this point, the tears didn't stop. I hugged my mom again. Much tighter. I kissed her cheek. After pulling away, I took the tags out of the box, closed it, and put the box on the table. The chain was easy to unlink and then clasp back together around my neck.

The steel hung down and I could feel the chill against my skin. The tags were just over my tank top, but the chain was cold.

"Dad's coming with me everywhere from now on, Mom."

[I'm glad.]

"It's time for us to get going."

[Yeah.]

I hugged her again and started to head towards the door.

[Take care! I love you both!]

Silva saw that sign and called out to her.

"Thank you for letting me stay here again, Auntie Del. I love you, too!"

Everyone shared smiles and waves before it was time to head back to HQ. Silva and I departed from my home and were on our way.

The walk to the tram station wasn't too far. We did, however, make sure to bring the wheelchair along. I just pushed it in front of me as I walked with Silva at my side.

Once on the tram, we walked back towards the same spot were rode yesterday. However, our unfriendly acquaintance had already seemed to board the tram and was on the same space she was last time. With the time of day, though, this tram was full of people. I just hope she doesn't recognize me and start something here.

The ride wasn't the most comfy because of the lack of free space. Nobody was allowed to stand while the tram was moving, so we squeezed together on the seats when it got busy.

Silva leaned in and pretty much just laid on my shoulder for the ride. Better than letting her get squished between me and some other stranger.

The tram reached its destination after not too long and we would depart from there. HQ wasn't far.

We hurried along so as to avoid the lime-haired woman from yesterday.

After about five minutes, I turned around to just check behind us while we walked. She was there.

Just walking behind us and matching our pace. When our eyes met, she kept walking towards us.

"Silva, take the chair and head back to the HQ, alright?"

"Don't do anything stupid, okay? No fighting."

Silva grabbed the chair and kept going.

"Tell Dr. Eugene that I'm on my way."

"Kay."

Silva left.

The lime-haired woman stood to face me now. She was tall. I didn't take too much notice before. She stands at over 6 feet tall. 6 feet 3 inches maybe? I had to look up at her. But I got a real good look at her face this time. She had light skin, but it was still a bit tanned like most who live anywhere in the Desert Sector. The same color of lime was in her eyeshadow, but her lips were a pastel lilac. She had plenty of jet black piercings in her ears, brows, bottom lip, and nose.

She also had the exact same outfit as I had on. Black tank, desert camo cargo pants, combat boots. I hate having the same clothing sense as such a mean person.

"You get juiced up or something overnight?"

"Trying to figure that out."

"It's creepy."

"That what I've been told."

"You're not fooling anyone with the muscles. It's obvious you aren't augmented."

"No tricks. But I am still a C-Ranker."

"Fuck off with that."

"I won't."

"Then just fuck off."

"Then I'll just see you at HQ sometime. What's your name anyway?"

"I don't tell that to civvies."

"Whatever. See you around."

I turned away from her. She wasn't cooperative at all. Why the fuck did she have such a problem with me? I know it's not the most believable event, but the hostility is just too much.

I didn't hear a response. I didn't even bother turning around. I wonder if she was going to follow me while I caught up with Silva.

Five minutes of walking brought me to the front of HQ. I found Silva waiting there for me. I guess she didn't want to go in without me.

"Yo!"

I called out to my cousin and approached her.

"You didn't go in?"

"You don't have an access card yet. I don't have my own either. Just have one that dad slipped to me to use if I need it. Figured you'd be stuck out here if we don't go together."

"Oh shit! You're right! We should stop by an admin desk to get our cards today. Yesterday was too hectic and I forgot."

"Then let's get going. We can stop by the front desk on the way to the Medic corps offices."

And so that's what we did. Silva got us inside and then we moved into the lobby area. There was a lot going on in here so nobody took notice of us right away. Almost everyone was dressed in uniform, however, and we were in civilian clothes. Even if we weren't being gawked at, I feel like we were still noticeable.

We just made it over to the front desk and explained we forgot to get keycards yesterday after testing. Silva made something up about Dr. Eugene letting us inside so we could get our cards before our meeting with him. The clerk fell for it, it seemed.

Even if she caught the fib, she located our information in the system and started to process new keycards for us. After reviewing the information, she gave me a concerned look before handing over my card.

"Don't lose your card again. It looks bad for C-Rankers to be forgetful."

"It's my first card actually. I'm starting soon."

"What!?"

She started to go through my file with a shocked face.

"What's the Chief thinking…? I guess, welcome to the Vault Breakers. Both of you. Ymir Sorenson and Silva Dirge."

With our names being said aloud, a few glances came our direction and locked onto us.

The clerk girl seemed really thrown off by everything. Maybe I'm just not taking my rank as seriously as I should be.

"Thanks. I'll see you around. What's your name?"

"Huh? Me? Umm… Camille."

"Then til next time, Camille."

Silva and I left the desk and the stares slowly broke off from us. Silva checked behind us as we left.

"She's blushing."

"Hah! No she isn't."

"Beet red."

"Nope."

I didn't have any appeal to anyone before. No way that I had an effect on someone so suddenly.

Silva and I just made our way at a steady pace over to Eugene's office. I knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

"Come in."

Good. He's in the office.

We entered together. Silva moved the wheelchair off to the side of the room and stood next to me.

"We came back just like you asked, doc."

"And with some serious changes, I see. This is… creepy."

"Would everyone stop calling me creepy?"

"It's creepy though. Especially since I saw you yesterday."

"Fine."

Eugene stood up and just walked around me in a circle. Silva moved out of the way stood off to the side by the wheelchair we brought back.

"Are you okay with receiving a basic physical? I might need to take a blood sample too.

"I'm willing to do what's needed to get to the bottom of this."

"I won't get results right away. It's just a place to start. I'll coordinate further testing with you. Probably going to need to get R&D involved once I have enough data to share with them."

"Like I said. I just want to figure things out."

"Sure, sure. Silva, I'm gonna ask you to leave the office for the examinations. I think I saw Varun in the labs. He's up and active. You have plenty of clearance to pay him a visit."

Eugene said that and I could see Silva smiling in response. I knew she missed her dad.

"Yeah, I'll go see him. Come find me later. Okay, Ymir?"

"Sure. Tell Uncle Varun hello for me."

With that, she left the room and I began the exams with Dr. Eugene.

[dhampiravidi]

x-men OC: Hestia Li

template taken from here

General Information

Name: Hestia (Black) Li Aliases: Fury (codename); Hes (nickname) Age: (see this) 15/18 upon enrolling in Xavier's; ~40 as an adult Species: Homo sapien superior aka Human Mutant Ethnicity: half Québécois, half Han Chinese Sexuality: (closeted) Bisexual Affiliation: the X-Men

Physical Appearance

Hestia is a 5'4" (162.56 cm) young woman who engages in regular physical activity. She's lightly toned and has a relatively pale complexion (which, unfortunately for her, tends to burn rather than tan). While at Xavier's, she cuts her wavy dark hair (into a shoulder-length bob), which can easily grow to the small of her back. It’s prematurely graying as a result of her powers. She has striking grey eyes, which appear to glow in the light. Athleisure takes up most of her wardrobe--the rest is slightly chic formal that she wears sometimes when she teaches. Her symbiote form adds another four inches to her frame. Sometimes, her symbiote takes the form of a puddle with eyes when he slinks around or curiously observes people without his host being present.

Personality

Almost everyone who meets Hestia knows her to be a friendly, loyal, compassionate individual. At her core, that's who she really is. She loves hard and is always willing to be a shoulder to cry on or a giver of advice. Her negative traits are connected to her fear of being left behind (which originated when her parents divorced as a result of her childhood hardship). When her everyday schedule piles up too high with classes to teach, tutoring sessions, and chores, she can tend to run away from it all by taking shortcuts. Also, she tends to ramble when she's nervous, and that happens when she's trying to keep one of her own secrets. Strangely enough though, she is a good undercover agent because she simply doesn't see her job as her secret--as much as it is SHIELD's. Her symbiote typically has the mind of a young middle schooler (slightly feral, eager to please her, frightened by thunderstorms).

History

Hestia was born to a Québécois mother, Lea Tremblay, and a Han Chinese father, Vince Li (surname voluntarily translated to Black). Her mutation became apparent when she was ten, disrupting her otherwise happy family life. Hestia's ability to copy physical skills simply by observing them made her a prodigy in soccer and ballet. It also made her the target of bullying. That was how the unfortunate side effect of her mutation, a feral state triggered by sudden shock, became known. Due to the constant drama, Hestia's parents ended up getting a divorce. Her mother decided to stay in Quebec with Hestia's little brother, while Hestia moved to New York with her father. Mr. Black soon became an alcoholic, so Hestia earned money after school by counting cards in underground gambling rings. Her only solace was going to high school, where the kids saw her as a sweet, perfect popular girl. Tragedy struck again when Hestia was mugged in a park. She tried to fight the gunman and got shot, triggering her feral state. After she'd beaten him up, a symbiote (who Hestia would name Stitch) slithered out from the bushes and forcibly bonded with her, before eating the unconscious criminal. This traumatized Hestia, who spent the next week lying in bed. One day, she suddenly found herself filling out an application for Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. As soon as she got in, she left her dad some money and went to get help from Professor Charles Xavier.

Powers / Abilities: 

Photographic Kinesthesia (she can copy any physical skill she's observed) and Symbiote Physiology (read Eddie Brock's section). The symbiote can be injured and/or torn apart by fire or loud sounds. It hungers for a chemical that can only be found in brains and/or chocolate--phenethylamine. Hestia cannot use her mutant ability while the symbiote is active (on the outside of her skin). She sometimes has him temporarily separate from her so she can, often to replicate martial arts moves, melee weapon techniques, dances, diving, etc. She also sometimes separates from Stitch so he can subtly sneak ahead and help with reconnaissance.

Trivia:

Hestia's 1st friend at the X-Mansion was Scott Summers.

Even before her mutation presented itself, she had a natural talent for soccer and ballet (not to mention doing math).

The grey streaks in her hair are a visual consequence of her mutation. No, her power can't kill her.

She is on-call as a "consultant" for SHIELD, which means she goes on missions for them and lets them study her, in return for them not showing up at the X-Mansion or arresting her or her brother for their crimes.

The money she earned during high school (mostly won in poker) is partly stored in a closet just in case. It's a couple hundred thousand.

Feeling that both of her parents abandoned her, Hestia took the surname "Li", which her ancestors used. It translates to "Black".

Stitch, her symbiote, was named after his own ability to break apart and reform correctly. The movie character is just a nice coincidence.

Hestia's brother, Connor, is two years younger than she is. He is a mutant with a perfect photographic memory, who works for criminals as a human ledger.

She teaches European French, Phys Ed & occasionally Cantonese.

Hestia loves watching hockey with Logan, even though it's a lot of unnecessary Canadian people's screaming.

Verses*

Brotherhood AU

Origins/Wolverine: Hestia still bonds with Stitch, but she's taken by Stryker's people when she's fifteen. She escapes by herself, catching the guards by surprise by using her symbiote's abilities.

The Movies: Hestia is somewhere between her twenties and thirties, adjusted as needed. She's a teacher and an X-Man.

General/Comics: she's in her mid-thirties. She teaches when she's not on kitchen duty or doing a mission for SHIELD.

IRL AU: Hestia teaches something physical (self-defense, kid's sports, ballet, etc.)

*I don't want to write any threads dealing with live-action movies made after The Last Stand. I just don't like their plots & some of the casting (plus the timeline confuses me SO MUCH) --anyway, I'm still down to RP with canons from then!

[axgmented]

💗

@poeticphoenix

there were instances, if one were to observe the Turk on her lonesome, that they would be able to see certain attributes of her donors and their mannerisms. While the feral gremlin of a Turk had always held a passion for reading, she was much more the type to have someone read to her but those moments were few and far between considering she didn't mingle much outside of her work place. Reno's read a few bedtime stories to her, Rufus too-- her favourite about the Nightingale; she's heard it so many times that she could recite it to herself if she wanted to, but it just didn't hold the same affect.

She was currently asleep, head resting in an upturned palm at the desk in her little reading nook; it's in front of the window in the living room, window open to let in the summers breeze, a few strings of fairy lights outlining where it was, almost sectioning it off. Her body was contorted, legs tugged near her chest and a thick, chunky knitted blanket draped across her body all tucked and huddled up in a circle-cushioned chair; no one she complained about her body hurting all the time. she fell asleep in the weirdest places, in the most awkward positions-- her neck, without a doubt would be aching in the morning.

She hadn't expected visitors, couldn't really remember locking her door. It wasn't like she feared for her life; in fact, rem sometimes welcomed attempts to cut her down, to send her to the underworld because it almost always failed. A great way to snuff out a life without having to feel guilty: it was her or them. Beneath her one hand, a book was underneath her fingertips and a pen balanced against the page and resting at the crook of her thumb, opened to the middle while two more were off to the side. It seemed that her mind was loud again, like she had once told him a month or so ago when they stumbled upon one another; instead of taking a walk, it seems she threw herself into the world of academia.

It was a book of flowers, their medicinal uses and no doubt old mountain recipes that claimed to cure ailments and hindrances. She had fallen asleep on a page about a plant whose flower claimed to cure inflammation of the joints and more importantly, aid in psychosis and nervousness. Always the optimist, seeking out alternative routes of mako shots even though she knows it's all for naught. She would never be able to survive without that poison but it was cute she would delude herself. a little notebook sat to the side, the President's name scrawled across as the header before the name of the plant was scribed beneath a few other bulleted plants. Oh-- the research wasn't for herself it seemed.

She gives a faint noise of protest, feeling someone move the pen from her grasp and she starts to let it happen before those training instincts kicked in: she hadn't fallen asleep with someone in her house. Her eyes flew open, her head picking up from the upturned palm and said hand that acted as a cradle now crooked her fingers into claws before a gloved hand snatched at her wrist. She bares her teeth, ready to sink them into the wrist of the offender before his voice makes the Turk pause in her assault; oh-- oh it was this one.

She rests back against her papasan chair, exhaling a sharp breath before a pout makes her lower lip jut out like a child woken from a nap far too early. Her wrist was released and her other dropped the pen she had aimed at his stomach onto the book before it came towards her face and rubbed the sleep from her vision, the other arm flopping against her side. What time was it? How did he get in? All of these questions died on her tongue, mouth parting to begin her inquisition on the auburn-haired man, but that syrupy bubble of anxiety began to form, thick and tacky in her brain.

"Easy, you're tired."

there's a hum as his response, body feeling too heavy to do much of anything other than curl up tighter in her chair. She lazily paws at the blankets but she can't seem to get her hands and brain to work the way they're supposed to so she huffs like a toddler before giving up and she wants to stick her tongue out at him for his laughter. The fabric slides up her arms, tucking beneath her chin and she feels her head sink deeper against the plush cushion of the chair-- she's never known this damn thing to be this soft. Rem wants to ask him to read from the herbology book, but her tongue won't work and her voice is lost; this one always seemed to do it to her.

She can feel his shadow crowd her, feel his breath on her temple before pressure is applied to the thinner of her scars; this one on the left of her temple while its twin was hidden against a silvery curtain of hair. She tips her head up slightly, ever so slightly against the feeling of the innocent kiss before exhaustion takes over again and easily she succumbs to the void of sleep that pulls her over the twilight edge of sleep.