#dammit at least give credit

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Please cite your sources... and errata

Ever since I did the long post on Worldwide Story Structures and then edited the list of Story Structures on Wikipedia, more and more blogs, articles and so on have been popping up with the information I sourced when I backtrace and relook up the names of the story structures.

This is great! Because this means things like the Wikipedia page for Confessional has gotten longer with more sources added. People are paying attention more and so some of the ones I struggled with now have more information out there as people wear it with pride.

But this has also resulted in a new string of people not giving credit where credit is due and wholesale stealing from mainly Wikipedia or doing it poorly without understanding what they are taking (psst, mostly white people and white men, which I covered is somehow a past time and a trend...).

I'm really begging you, given what I've outlined over and over again to NOT do the latter. Please, please give credit to where you got your ideas. Do citations. Also, I've noticed that people have taken my ideas directly from my page, and then not given credit to me. And that one stings. I spent hours tracking down and experiencing story structures from the countries where I cited stories of different types to come up with the ideas, but then they cite usually white people instead. WTF. You took my ideas one for one, down to the wording, but can't cite the academic that came up with it or why? Haven't I gone over the dangers of this already? Like calling out Kenneth Rowe? I spent all that time citing what Freytag really said and people still want to hold on very strongly to the notion he came up with a different diagram, and call it "Updated" in what imagination? Just cite your sources and say it was also Syd Field, etc like I outlined and then give me damned credit for putting in the hours of tracking it down.

Look, I have the degree, the education, I bothered to give the sources and just because my gender is not man and my skin color is not white, does not mean my ideas and the work tracking down primary sources is not "valid". Stop being AHs and taking the hours I gave to you for free, the money I spent on books by erasing the credit when I argued really, really hard that you need to give credit to your sources.

The reason you cite your sources is so people can hold them to account for their ideas, so the person researching can inquire, why do you think that? Also exceptions to the rule... what about this? If they can't inquire, then it's much, much harder to hold the specific person and their ideas to academic rigor. I know that your professors went on a rant about how plagiarism is evil on a personal level and Kenneth Rowe was a professor that plagiarized and somehow got Shakespeare and Aristotle wrong, despite specializing in both, but as I've shown, it also destroys on a systemic level, because people can't name the source of the information and can make up crap, such as Aristotle wanted a 3-Act structure and say things like, "I heard that Aristotle was a sissy pants." and everyone believes them because what? You cited nothing, you just cited everything Aristotle wrote so they can't examine things like if the statement is true because they didn't read beyond Poetics 7 and didn't have enough background to understand that Readercism really, really doesn't work well in this case because the invention of the 5-paragraph Essay was in the 19th century, messing with how people think and organize.

I get it–you might hate me for some of my ideas, like say, Aristotle is a sexist pig, which he is. And Aristotle is not Jesus. Which he isn't. But you should at least cite your sources, especially when those sources have taken the time to cite other sources, like the primary works with page numbers, showing things like where the diagram for Freytag comes from (and how much of a genocidal AH he was).

Cite your sources, even when you hate their guts, like finding out Freytag was a pre-Nazi Fascist–I can cite the History of Opera (Lucy Worsley's Nights at the Opera (TV Mini Series 2017) and Wagner and how Freytag glows with how much he loved Wagner's The Ring saying that they now outstrip Shakespeare. When I say that Freytag was a pre-Fascist, I can cite his love of the middle class, imperialism, and love of the idea that Polish people would be wiped off the face of this Earth. Why? Because I bothered to read the original text. And because I did that I can cite the page numbers where he said so because I posted it up on my blog. And because I cited the page numbers, someone can chime in that I'm wrong.

Also, stop citing white people on PoC things. Favor own voices and stop erasing credit. I was very purposeful in citing the people I did. I spent hours using Japanese I learned, Chinese I learned, etc to make sure it was correct--which includes the Kishotenketsu diagram--which for some reason in the Kishotenketsu Wikipedia people deleted the credit for the diagram to the people I got it from where? Japanese people--something I took 2 years to find and edit in. WTF. What's wrong with you? (Someone also took the diagram and colored it badly and then erased the credit and then explained it on Youtube--the diagram I made off of the Youtube video I credited... c'mon.). They also took a bunch of the words I wrote for the page and gave no credit to Wikipedia. Do better, white dude.

I'm not asking for credit because I want it, and have an ego—no, what I want is the ability of people to interrogate their sources. To correct me down the line. To be able to check back to see if the statements made are original or not and then interrogate the truth of the matter. Because if anything, my journey through the idea of a singular "true" story structure that never changed over time, has proven very much to be false. And it took me *forever* and a day to unwind this myth. So I'd like subsequent generations to also be able to interrogate my work too. But they can't do that if they don't have access to my words, thoughts, and how I selected the parts of the text that I did. I'm very open to being wrong. I want to be corrected--I make errors all the time. And they are free to disagree from there. Much like I hate the idea that Aristotle thought that women get a soul later than men, because, as I said, he's a misogynistic pig and it was not the times.

Oh look, a citation. You can interrogate the source now.

And the source cites: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4021448/

Now you can interrogate the people who came up with it and find out where Aristotle said that.

The source says: "This question has evoked human thinking since ancient times. Hippocrates (460-370 BC) argued that man and woman each contributed semen that mixed in the uterus to form the embryo, whereas Aristotle (384-322 BC) favoured a more male-centred view that the woman merely provided fertile ground for the male seed to grow. "

With the numbers in place, then you can look at other sources such as: https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(05)71025-4/fulltext

And you see, new vocabulary pops up. Then you might ask, where did Aristotle say that? And now that you have vocabulary, you can find out if it's a myth or fact.

And from there, I was able to find the original source of the statement from Aristotle, and find the original text. (Which BTW, is still a misogynistic piece of crap) and add it back to the wikipedia page (which I did) De Anima 350 BCE.

I don't want to be cited because I think I'm correct. I don't want to be cited because I have an ego. I want to be cited because I'm pretty sure someone might think I'm wrong, and I want them to be able to inquire into my line of thinking and how I selected sources so that I might be corrected or examined down the line.

So stop being a white straight male, well, usually, and cite your sources. Your privilege isn't going to cushion you from being called out as wrong and a plagiarizer. And do you want to end up being called an imperialistic imperializer who hates PoCs? Please cite your sources and make sure your sources say what you think they say. If you don't, I or someone else is likely to find you and call you out. And don't make it me, because I do check sources.

BTW, more PoCs need to be "allowed" to have writing manuals without half of the internet breathing down their neck for not being white enough because that half of the internet didn't bother to read anything outside of European canon or want to imperialize European ideas of story on the rest of the world.

Oh, you made it this far... here is your reward; https://www.positivelyfilipino.com/magazine/the-joy-of-kuwentuhan

A story structure/story type that's older than colonization.

BTW, also watched a film from Filipino filmmakers and the story structure I cited earlier with the introduction (longer than the US) and the Third act (or second, if you're working off of the 3-act) had an inversion in "What if" (2023) which amused me a lot. I love when people play with expectations. Previously, I said Pinoy filmmakers try to leave the story structure behind and do something else, but to see someone expertly play on an old one and then flip it—that was magic.

[todayisafridaynight]

Sohei 🤝 Kazama: Bad dads

who even IS a good dad in this series like who even is a dad that we can all look at and go 'now THATS a good dad right there'

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 3

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

2.4k Words

Part 1, Part 2, Master List

Miles Cooper was still at school the following week, which meant that he was given no consequences for what had happened to you or for blaming Eddie. 

Eddie couldn’t even say he was surprised by this point. If Eddie really had been the one to trip you up, he was sure he’d get suspended or even expelled. It was so close to the end of the year and he could feel that Higgins was looking for any reason to keep him from walking across that stage to get his diploma. 

You hadn’t shown up on Monday. Not that it mattered to Eddie either way, you two didn’t even know each other. But you had cleared his name. That was the thought that kept buzzing around his brain like a mosquito that he just couldn’t swat. Despite the glares and the snide remarks, you had gone out of your way to make sure that he didn’t get in trouble for something he didn’t do, which is more than what he could say for a lot of people at this school.

He had to give you credit for that at least. Not many people outside of his small friend circle would stick up for him like that. 

With work and band practice, it was easy to forget about you until Wednesday when you showed up to English class with a thick white cast around your wrist and arm. Shit, your fall really had done a number on you. You were struggling with juggling your books and they fell off your desk with a clatter, and you thanked the girl next to you for helping you pick them up. 

Eddie would like to think he was above eavesdropping and gossip, but he’d be wrong. 

“What happened?” The girl- Sarah- asked. 

“I face planted on the bleachers at the pep rally.” you said, taking your seat again. “One minute I was trying to get down, and the next I’m getting elbowed and my arm hurt.” 

“I heard someone pushed you” 

Eddie heard that emphasis on someone and gripped his pencil, hearing the subtle sound of wood splintering against his thumb. This was not the time to make a scene. 

“No one pushed me. Miles elbowed me and I fell.” you said firmly. 

You were still defending him, Eddie wasn’t sure how to feel. 

“If you’re gonna spread rumors, could you do me a favor and make it sound more interesting?” You continued, “Like, start telling people that I dived off the bleachers to distract everyone that Miles shit himself.”

Eddie snorted loudly before he could stop himself. He slammed his hand pencil down on the table and covered his mouth. Dammit, why did you have to be funny?

Sarah laughed, much less obnoxiously and agreed before asking to sign your cast. You must be covered in signatures now, as you seemed to be friends with everyone. 

Everyone except him. 

Not that it mattered. 

It was nice and all that you saved him from getting in trouble, but it’s not like you two were ever going to be friends, no matter how funny you were. 

Class started and Eddie spent the rest of class doodling and barely paying attention to the teacher. This was usually how his school days went. Yeah, he had been trying harder in the past two years to graduate and pass his classes but some days his brain just refused to focus on anything important. 

The bell rang and Eddie took his sweet time getting his things together. Next period was his favorite- lunch. 

“Shit.” He heard you mumble as you tried to wrangle your books with one arm. He knew there was a rule about not being allowed to carry around a backpack but, shit, Eddie would have thought you’d get some help. Shouldn’t one of those many signatures be offering to carry your books? 

Obviously not, as you finally managed to tuck your notebook under your arm. You looked flustered, and hot in the face. Your brows were furrowed in concentration and you finally let out a loud groan as your papers went flying everywhere as students for the next class started coming in. 

It was pathetic, and Eddie couldn’t exactly leave you stranded. You cleared his name, so at least he could try and help you out right now. Maybe he’d even figure out what your problem with him was. 

“Here.” Eddie said and grabbed the papers closest to him and picked up your binder before you could stop him. 

Normally when Eddie looked at you, you’d turn your nose up at him and look away. This time, he found himself giving you direct eye contact. Your eyes were wide with surprise that he had stepped in to help, followed by more frustration. 

“Thanks.” you said shortly. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?” Eddie asked. He’d wait for you to say no, to tell him to get out of your face, and he can walk away with a clear conscience that at least he tried. 

You were staring at him as if he were some sort of alien who had just asked you why the sky wasn’t orange. Yeah ok, he could take the hint. 

“Yes.” 

The word sounded choked out, as if the single syllable was a struggle to say. But you had said it, and Eddie was a man of his word, even though he hadn’t promised you anything. 

Eddie stacked your notebook and binder on top of his. You were still staring at him as if you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. Eddie couldn’t really believe it himself. 

He’d do this small favor for you as a thanks, and then you two could go back to ignoring each other. 

“Lead the way.” He said, offering up his best impression of his dad’s smile. If he was lucky (which Eddie never was) then maybe some of his dad’s Munson Magic might rub off on him enough so that you’d at least relax a little. 

You only nodded and led him out of the classroom. 

You didn’t like the cast and it’s off-putting stark white bandages. You wanted to choose a different color- maybe red or black or even that weird obnoxious toxic green that was offered to you. But your mom decided that white would be better because it would make it easier to sign, so white it was. 

Your parents at least took pity on you Monday, letting you stay home to wallow in embarrassment that you had broken your wrist and fractured your arm in front of all of your classmates. Tuesday they released you back to school, but you had instead skipped getting on the bus (because you could not drive one-handed) and played hooky at the local library. It’s not like anyone would care that someone your age was skipping school. 

Wednesday came, and you forced yourself onto the bus, the first time you had used it since moving to Hawkins. The ride was bumpy and long, and your walkman ran out of batteries halfway to school. 

It wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. A few people came up and signed your cast, some asking what happened. You just told them the same thing, that Miles elbowed you and you fell. It wasn’t as exciting as the idea of the school Freak attacking you, but you weren’t about to get Eddie involved in something that he had nothing to do with. You were just going to ignore the fact that Eddie had been the reason you were heading in that direction anyway. 

English class rolled around, and you spent most of it poking the inside of your cast with your pencil, trying to scratch an itch that just wouldn’t go away. It was bad enough that you had fucked up your dominant arm, but this was actually Hell. 

When the bell rang, everyone else seemed to be in a huge rush to get out of the classroom. Everyone but Eddie. Obviously. Because of course the one person you were trying to avoid was now slinking around you. 

Your long weekend, you had done your best to try and not think about him. You could handle falling in front of everyone else in school, but with Eddie it was different. Your stomach twisted as you remembered how he had yelled as you fell next to him and how he had looked at you as you had ignored your stinging arm as you ran out of the gym to clear his name. 

It was bad enough he had heard you make a poor joke out of context, you weren’t going to throw him under the bus either. 

“Need help getting to the lunch room?”

Your face was already hot with the embarrassment of not being able to carry your own books. Your backpack had ripped the second you got off the bus, and you lost your math homework to a puddle. You hated that he was still here to begin with, was breaking your wrist already not enough pain and suffering? 

You were staring at him. Fuck- dammit- shit say something back-

“Yes.” 

The word almost got stuck in your throat. The only reason it came out was that as painful and embarrassing as this moment was, what Stacy would do to you if she found out you said no would be far worse. 

Eddie dropped your books on top of his, and gave you a smile that looked so forced that you couldn’t stand to look at him. Was this being done just out of pity? You’d run for the hills if he wasn’t holding you binder hostage. 

You led him through the hallway, and towards your locker. “I need to put some things up.” you said, and he followed you. 

The hallway was already mostly clear, and so no one seemed to pay you much mind. You weren’t sure what the rumor mill would churn out with Eddie carrying your books, but did it even matter? Two more months and you’d be out of this school and none of these people would matter. 

No one except the young man following behind you. 

Eddie dutifully held your books as you put them away. The door to your locker stopped you from seeing his face, which seemed like the perfect time to take the foot out of your mouth that had been there since the pep rally. 

“...I’m... uh... I’m sorry for what I said on Friday.” you started, pretending to rifle through a folder. “About you being in a cult. It was a stupid joke and I shouldn’t have said it.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, and you felt your whole body tense up as you waited for him to say anything. 

“Yeah we uh.. We aren’t big on sacrificing in Hellfire.” he said carefully. “Had to stop that with the club budget cuts.” 

You had to bite the inside of your cheek and close your eyes tight to keep from laughing. You covered it up with a cough. “Yeah uh... sounds like that’d be a lot of paperwork.” 

You took a slow and deep breath before closing your locker to look at him. He was smiling at you, a far less forced one than before. It was almost the same smile he gave his friends when he didn’t know you were looking. 

It wasn’t much, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from exploding in your chest. You should see a doctor about that. 

“Oh yeah, tons.” Eddie said. “And with all the letters we get about our club being associated with the Devil it was just a bureaucratic headache.”

I know that if I could just talk to him one then I’d be fine. You had told yourself that every single day since these pesky little feelings emerged. Maybe you had been right. The two of you made your way to the cafeteria. 

“You’re just some nerds playing with dice.” you said, and realize that could be taken the wrong way. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve also... played board games.” 

God you were acting like a total airhead. Board games? Really? You were acting like your brain was broken rather than your wrist. 

You felt Eddie’s eyes on you, and saw how he also looked unsure about your answer. Whatever was going through his head, he brushed aside. 

“I should also thank you for clearing my name.” he said, changing the subject. “You came running out of the gym and saved my ass.” 

“I wasn’t going to let someone get in trouble just because I fell!” It was the most assured thing you had ever said to Eddie.

“Well, either way I’d say you’re my hero.” Eddie said. “I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t come running to my rescue I’d probably be expelled by now, and then who would be around to corrupt the youth of Hawkins?” 

Hero. Eddie called you his hero. You felt your body buzzing with an energy that you were not in a place to use. 

You two were in the cafeteria now, and you led Eddie over to where Stacy was sitting. Stacy, being the queen of subtlety that she was, was openly gawking at the sight of the two of you together. 

She was giving you a look, and that look said that the second that Eddie was out of earshot you would be giving her a play by play of every single second of this interaction. 

Eddie dropped your books on the table by Stacy.

“Hi, Eddie!” she said in a perky voice. You wanted to kick her, and shot her a warning look which she ignored. “Will you be dining with us today?” 

You wanted to rip your hair out. 

“As much as I would love to spend my lunch period with you two ladies, I’m afraid my freshmen wouldn’t survive out there in the wild without me.” Eddie gave a dramatic bow. 

“Thank you. For helping me.” you said stiffly. Being on the receiving end of Eddie’s theatrics was making your brain blow a fuse. 

Eddie gave you a nod and sauntered off to his usual table where he was immediately hounded by his friends for being seen with you. You wondered what they were thinking. Did you look weird next to Eddie? Were they judging you for not being part of their group?

“Stop drooling.” Stacy said. “Talk.”

I have never broken a bone and have done minimal googling.

Also these chapters are getting longer dammit. This is supposed to be the easy stuff to wright UGH. Also tell me if there's something you wanna see with this, because I'm winging it like I do with all my writing lol

Tag List: @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

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[arc-misadventures]

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Within the frozen tundra stood a small flag, it's red cloth gentle waved in the cool, Atllas air. Around the flag it was peace, it was silent, it was tranquility incarnate. A tranquility that ended in a plume of fire, and metal shrapnel.

The peace of the frozen tundra had ended. The peace ending with the deafening cries of war.

The gun's of, Mantle were ready.

~~~

: Direct hit!

Jaune watched through his binocs as the red flag they had planted in the frozen fields of, Atlas evaporate into a plume of fire, smoke, and snow. Jaune put down the binocs, and turned to look at the newly promoted, Colonel Kian, shouted triumphantly as the howitzers hit their intended target dead on.

Colonel Alden Kian, in charge of all the newly built artillery batteries, and weapon emplacements upon, Mantle's walls. Jaune liked to think he developed a good relationship among fellow officers, even if, Jaune really felt like one.

Col. Kian: And, with that, all weapon emplacements have been built, and properly calibrated.

Jaune: Well done, Col. Kian, and to you as well, Maj. Skender. The forces under your command managed to compete the wall, ahead of schedule at that.

Maj. Skender: Thanks, Jaune, Yeah, I'm glad we listened to your suggestions. Honestly, I'm surprised that we got this done far sooner than we expected.

Jaune: It was just a suggestion, Felix. I will tank none of the credit, it was all you, and your men's work that finished the walls ahead of schedule.

: A duty well done at that.

Jaune, Maj. Skender, and Col. Kian all turned to see, General Ironwood as well as, Specialist Schnee approaching them. The trio as well as any other soldiers on the wall saluted the, General as he walked upon the ramparts.

Ironwood: Well done, Maj. Skendor, thanks to your efforts, the new fortifications for the walls of, Mantle have finished well ahead of schedule. With that in mind, how soon can your forces return to building the new, CCTS?

Maj. Skender: Uhhh... We should be able to start in a we...?

Skender was about to answer, General Ironwood, but he saw, Jaune holding up a single finger, giving him a clear sign of what he had to say.

Maj. Skender: In a day, Sir. We just need to reorganize, and require all of the necessary equipment. This should take no longer than a day, day, and a half tops.

Ironwood: Oh, that's good! That's very good to hear, Major, I look forward to hearing your progress in the coming days.

General Ironwood then made his way to leave. As, Jaune watched him leave, his eyes locked on with, Winter's, who shot him a wink as she left. Jaune watched them until he was out of earshot where he let out a tired sigh, followed by several others. But, most noticeable, Major. Skender was cursing up a storm.

Maj. Skender: Gods fucking dammit, Jaune! It going to take me at least a week to grab all of our gear to start working on, Ironwood's pet project! Why the hell did you tell me to speed things up?!

Jaune: Because, General Ironwood wasn't her to celebrate the walls completion, he was here to make sure you got back to work on his stupid project. Besides you just need to divide your forces; half starts working on the CCTS, the other gets your gear.

Col. Kian: He's right, Felix. The generals sole focus was on his project, he doesn't give a damn about the wall. If it wasn't for, Jaune donating his winnings, it never would have been built!

Maj. Skender: I know that! I'm just blaming him for all the shit they're going to give me now!

Jaune: Wait, hold on. Why are you saying I'm the one donated the funds, the winner of that game donated the funds.

Col. Kain: Yeah, but everyone knows you're the one who managed to convince, General Ironwood, and you're the one whose been presenting, Robyn Hill as the one who really got this thing going, but everyone in the, Engineer Corp, and the Gunnery Crews know it was you.

Maj. Skender: Yeah, this was the first time, General Ironwood ever showed his face around here. He only agreed to this thing as a PR stunt. He's only focused on his stupid 'secret project.' You're the only one in the upper brass that gives a rats ass about the wall, and Mantle.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay, it wasn't my idea, I got the idea from, Robyn Hill. But, how the hell did you even know I was the one who donated the funds for the wall?

Col. Klen: My wife is a secretary, and secretaries like to gossip. One of them heard the donation was from one of the, Specialist, and that, Specialist also convinced, General Ironwood to build the fortifications on the wall. And, since you're the only, Specialist who's shown to give a damn about the wall. It's gotta be you.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Haa...

Jaune: Does everyone know it was me?!

Jaune looked around, and saw several of the gunnery, and engineers all nodding their head, and making sounds of agreement. Jaune just slapped a hand to his face as a tired groan escaped his lips.

Jaune: Gods dammit...

Jaune: If the secretaries know it was me, everyone in the whole of, Atlas, and Mantle probably know it was me.

Maj. Skender: Yeah.

Col. Klen: Pretty much.

Jaune: Haa... Do you know any of my other secrets?

Col. Klen: You, and, Specialist Schnee are a thing... of some sorts.

Maj. Skender: Rumors say, Robyn Hill has got a thing for you, since you saved her from that assassin fellow.

Jaune stared at the two officers, his face was a blank, the only thing showing any emotion was the way his eye was twitching aggressively.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: FUCKKKK!?!

SK: ...

Col. Klen: I hope he, and Specialist Schnee become a thing... They look good together.

Maj. Skender: Wife is rooting for him, and Robyn Hill. She thinks they look cute together.

Col. Klen: They do look cute together.

Jaune: Shut up!

SK: Sorry, Sir!

~~~

Robyn: Wait... Members of the, Atlas military know about your thing with, Winter Schnee, and about our thing too?

Jaune: Yes, it seems the well kept secret wasn't that well kept enough!

Robyn: It was a secret?

Jaune: Not anymore, because secretaries like to gossip! And, the blooming romances between a pair of, Specialists, and a Specialists, and a politician seems to be todays latest hot topic!

Robyn: Oh, is that so?

Robyn: ...

Robyn: Am I winning?

Jaune just stopped to stare at, Robyn, giving her a blank stare as she cheekily smiled back at him.

Jaune: I liked you better when you were this cold, politician who hated me because I was a, Specialist working for, General Ironwood. Not this cute, blushing, teasing girl from a high school romcom!

Robyn: You think I'm cute~?

Jaune: Shut up!

Jaune sighed in defeat as, Robyn was laughing at his expense. He decided it would be for the best if to change the topic back to what he had originally came here to inform her about.

Jaune: Ahem! Anyway, I am here to inform you that the wall's fortifications have been finished, and we will be going back to work on, General Ironwood's secret project. And, with that, the elections for a new council member will be held in just over a week. So, are you ready, 'Councilwoman' Robyn Hill?

Robyn: I am most looking forward to it! The polls that have been going around saying that I am a sure in to win the election! Hey, Jaune?

Jaune: Hmm?

Robyn: You'll keep your promise; you'll tell me what, General Ironwood's secret project is if I win, right?

Jaune: Unless by some miracle he tells you himself, I'll keep my word, Robyn, and I'll tell you what he's up to.

Robyn: I'll hold you to that, Jaune. Well, I still got to keep my guard up, just because their already setting up the voting booths doesn't mean I've already won.

Jaune: Voting booths? Why do they need to set them up, they're just boxes you put paper into.

Robyn: They're electronic, it takes them a few days to take them out, and set them up.

Jaune was walking about, his mind running with ideas on how, Robyn could challenge, Ironwood's authority. But, all these thoughts were brought to a screeching halt when, Robyn said that one word.

Jaune: They're electronic? The voting boots are electronic?

Robyn: Yeah, been that way for years.

Jaune: Do you know where they keep these voting booths?

Robyn: Not originally, but I do know they set them up at one of the community halls near here.

Jaune: If you'll excuse me, Miss Hill.

Jaune quickly turned, and made his way out of the, Happy Huntresses Headquarters.

Robyn: Wha...? Jaune, where are you going?

Jaune: To win you this election.

~~~

Community Hall #7. Aka, the Dust Miners Den.

Jaune had entered the community hall flashing his credentials as a, Specialist to gain entry. And, now he was, what one would call interrogate one of the technicians, grilling him on all of the operating's of the voting booths.

Jaune: Tell me, Jirina, how do this machine operate.

Jirina, a olive haired snake faunas, if one could assume so based on the scales on her forehead, and slit yellow eyes was fidgeting around nervously. It was understandable reactions, it should be expected when one of, Atlas's Specialist suddenly showed up, and demanded how to do their job.

Jirina: W-Well... The system works by simply tapping a name on the screen, thus counting this as a vote. That vote then gets sent to a datahub where the votes are all tallied up.

Jaune: The machine says, 'Yes,' and 'No.' You're not putting in the names of the electoral candidates until the day of the election?

Jirina: Yes, this prevents cheating.

Jaune: 'Prevents cheating?'

Jaune moved over, and tapped the yes button on the screen. It closed out, and a popup appeared saying, 'Thank you for voting,' then another screen appeared saying waiting for election official to reset.

Jaune: You have to reset it every time someone votes?

Jirina: Yes. After everyone votes, we, the voting regulators, have to swipe our id cards, and input a eight digit code to reset the machine.

As, Jirina did just as she said when she reset the machine, taking her no more than ten seconds.

Jaune: Interesting... Are you capable of knowing how many voted, and who they voted for on your tablet there?

Jirina: Ahh yes... See?

Jirina handed, Jaune her tablet, and he saw on the tablet a total amount of votes, five, and there was, two votes for, 'Yes,' and three for, 'No.'

Jaune: Are these numbers for each of the machines here?

Jirina: Yes, we have four voting booths here, and we 'vote' at least once on each machine to test them.

Jaune: And, all of the information of the votes is sent to a central hub that tallies up the votes, the location, and other such things?

Jirina: Yes, that is how it acts.

Jaune: So that's how he could do it...

Jirina: Do... do what?

Jaune: Nothing that you need concern yourself with, Ma'am.

Jaune was still looking at the screen on the tablet, when he heard the door open behind him. He turned to face them, as he saw someone enter the room. One, Penny Polendina to be precise.

Jaune: Ahh, Penny you made good time getting here.

Penny: It didn't take me long to get here. Now, you asked for my help?

Jaune: Yes I did; See this electronic voting booth here?

Penny: I can. But, why do you want me to do that?

Jaune: I want to see if it can be done, and if you can, what else you can do.

Penny: Okay.

Jirina: Wait, you can't hack these systems; They have been given advance firewalls, and cybersecurity to prevent such things fro...?!

Penny: I've hack the voting booth.

Jirina: W-What?

Jaune: That didn't even take you thirty seconds; Impressive. Now then can you change the text on the screen for who you can vote for?

Penny: Can I change it. Wat do you want me to make it say?

Jaune: It doesn't matter, I mostly want to see if you can.

Penny: Okay. I've changed it.

Jaune: Okay let's...

Jaune looked at the voting booth, the screen now read, 'I'm sorry for.' and 'forgetting you, Jaune.' He stared at the screen for a moment before hitting the one that said sorry, and then the reset banner appeared.

Jaune: Penny can you reset the machine?

Penny reset it in a flash, only this time it read, 'I had a virus,' and 'It was making me forget.' Jaune looked at the screen, then to the tablet in his hand.

Jaune: There are six votes in total, evenly split, can you make it five to one?

Penny: Okay.

Jaune watched as, Penny reset the votes were five to one. Jaune watch it, and as the voting was rewritten as, 'I'm sorry, Jaune,' and 'Can you please forgive me.'

Jaune watched this all happen as he handed the tablet back to, Jirina.

Jaune: Thank you for your time, Jirina. Penny, let's go. I need to have a word with, General Ironwood, and I need you there with me.

Penny: O-Okay, Jaune...

~~~

Ironwood: The voting booths can be hacked?

Jaune: Yes, Sir, very easily at that. It took, Penny her barely thirty seconds to hack the machine, and completely rewrite the system.

Ironwood: Is this true, Penny?

Penny. Yes, Sir. Specialist Arc asked me to come down to one of the voting stations, and asked me to hack the system.

Ironwood: And, why did you ask, Penny to do this, Specialist Arc?

Jaune: I heard that the election being held in, Mantle was being held in a week. I was curious about how, Atlas does things. When I went there I found out that you use electronic voting booth. I saw several posters of the people running for election, and I saw one of the posters was for, Robyn Hill. I remembered her assassination attempt, and how destabilizing her death would be for, Atlas, and Mantle. I think a similar effect would happen if she lost the election, not to the same extent, but nonetheless.

Jaune: After, Penny hacked the system, I found out she was able to manipulate the votes in several different ways; From changing the names, resetting the machines, and even alter who got the total amount of votes.

It was another partial lie, Jaune caught himself noting that he often gave, General Ironwood such answers when he asked him about anything. It got the job done in the end.

Ironwood: To what end did you do this for, Specialist Arc?

Jaune: If, Penny can manipulate the systems so easily, what can a person like, Arthur Watts do?

Ironwood: You're worried that he will rig the election in his favour?

Jaune: Yes, Sir. I recommend we replace the voting machines with paper ballots to insure, Salem, and her minions do not interfere with the elections.

Ironwood pressed his fingers together as he solemnly nodded his head.

Ironwood: This is a wise decision to make. I'll make the necessary arrangements. Well done, Specialist. You may have undermined, Arthur Watts in a way we did not expect.

Jaune: Thank you, Sir!

Ironwood: Now then, head to the meeting room, Specialist Ebi wants to discuss a mission with you. Your dismissed.

Jaune: Sir!

Jaune saluted, General Ironwood, and made his way out of his office. as soon as he was out of the room, a tired sigh escaped his lips. He stood there for a moment as he steadied his nerves. He had made a gamble to try. and get, General Ironwood to replace the voting booth with paper ballots. He knew, General Ironwood wouldn't give a damn about paper ballots considering it had nothing to do with his, CCTS project, but nonetheless.

He had to play his cards right with him.

Jaune: Okay... Let's go see what...?!

Penny: Jaune!

Jaune stopped in his place as, Penny came up to him, a nervous jitter in her stance as she looked at him.

Penny: D-Did I help you?

Jaune: Yep, you did precisely what i hoped you would do. Thank you for helping me, Penny.

Penny: Oh... t-thank you, Jaune.. I... oh?

Penny stopped talking as she felt, Jaune's hand on her head, gently ruffling her hair.

Jaune: I know you want to apologize to me for all that has happened, Penny, but you must understand: There is nothing you need to apologize for, Penny. I was never angry with you. I just felt sorry for you for all that happened to you. I was hurting because I lost, Pyrrha. And, you were hurting because she accidently killed you. She hurt us in ways we didn't expect, but neither of what happened to us was her fault. Cinder killed, Pyrrha, and she tricked her into killing you. It's, Cinder's fault, Penny. There is no one to blame, but her. Okay?

Penny was shaking as she brought her hands to her face, whipping away the tears in her eyes.

Penny: T-Thank you, Jaune.

Jaune: You're welcome, Penny. But, I just have one question for you.

Penny: W-What... (Sniff...) What is it, Jaune?

Jaune: Do you hate me, Penny?

Penny looked at, Jaune tears in the corner of her eyes as she smiled at him.

Penny: No, I don't hate you, Jaune.

Jaune smiled at her in turn as he took his hand off her head.

Jaune: You didn't hiccup.

Penny: I didn't.

Jaune: Well, I best get going, and see whatever it is, Clover wants from me. I'll see you later, Penny.

Penny: Wait!

Jaune: Hmm?

Penny: Can I... Can I come with you, Jaune?

Jaune smiled as he beckoned her with his hand to follow him.

Jaune: Come on, Penny let's get going.

Penny: Yes. Lets!

[cr4zy-cycl0n3]

Yo! I'm doing a Heroes of Olympus rewrite!

I'm not a huge fan of how some scenes go in canon and how the characters esp the gods are handled in Hoo, and after reading one too many rewrite/AU fics, I've decided fuck it, imma make my own.

I'm changing quite a few things, like:

- making Piper's memories not be tampered with and as a result be way closer to Leo (credit to Heroes of Juno by @queenjunothegreat for this idea!)

- MOTHERLY HERA/JUNO WHO PSEUDO-ADOPTS JASON FTW also parental Lupa but that'll be more apparent in a Jason prequel/sequel(depends on how I wanna format it) I’ll write after TLH is done

- slowburn valgrace instead of comphet jiper

- Leo and Piper QPR(+Jason when Piper stops being his #1 opp). Jasipereo ftw babyyy

- the whole series is just gonna have a good deal of focus on the Lost Trio. I'm not gonna shaft anyone ofc but my favorite punching bags characters are just gonna get extra love :3

- Jason's gonna be considerably more feral cuz CMON MAN WAS RAISED BY WOLVES(this is more prominent in the later books cuz in TLH he was alr feral, going at 2 giants with his BARE ASS HANDS)

- Jason has more bite cuz DAMMIT HE DESERVES TO BE ANGRY/BITTER AND CLAP BACK. HIS LIFE IS SHIT, LET MY BRO BE MAD

- more exploration into Jason's character cuz man was shafted so hard :(

- exploration of characters' powers in general, def buffing the Big Three kids to be as strong as Percy cuz holy cow he's OP. I love Percy and his OP-ness, but the other Big Three kids should be just as OP

- Zeus is the God of Justice, which we don't see much of in PJO's characterization of him, but Jupiter is Roman and hence is much more strict in the RRverse, so consequently I think his domain of law and order is more central to Jupiter than his greek counterpart, so I'd like to explore Jason having powers related to that and being an absolute powerhouse when it comes to debates and politics despite hating them

- characterizing the Gods differently from canon as I'm a Hellenist and writing them as they are in canon makes me like. Kinda uncomfortable. I will be using mythic literalism as that is what PJO/HoO's based on and I'm not rewriting the very foundations of the series, so they will still have committed the things they did in mythology, though I'm keeping them largely unaltered from the Og greek mythos and unsanitized as this isn't intended for a young audience like PJO is. Their behavior won't be exactly like their depictions in myths nor how they actually are irl, it's a mix of both(Ex: Zeus has still done heinous shit so he won't be as great as he is irl, but he isn't supremely petty and bitchy like he is in PJO.). This uhh. Will probably mean that PJO events would go differently which would influence HOO but if I think about that too much I'm gonna wanna do a PJO rewrite too and akbhdhd so just imagine that everything that goes on in PJO goes as canon (for now at least) for some reason or another.

- Octavian and Jason are were best friends cuz I said so. This change is inspired by To Storm and Fire(a Heroes of Olympus rewrite) which I am in LOVE with. The antagonistic side characters(like Drew and Octavian) got very little development or character exploration so l'm definitely giving them that in my rewrite!

- The Seven feel and are much closer together

- delving more into the sevens' trauma pre-camp, might also do a one/two shot for each of them. Jason’s a given cuz I’m writing a whole ass fic or even series dedicated to his past, Leo and Piper definitely, probably also Hazel and Annabeth, not sure on Percy and Frank cuz for Frank I’m def going into the trauma that comes with growing up in an Asian household but don’t have too many ideas on how to execute that, and for Percy I don’t have all that many ideas in general outside of the little we know in PJO(I used to think we knew a lot but honestly, we really don’t? Like we know Poseidon left, Sally had to work a lot, Gabe sucks, and he got kicked out of 6 six schools in 6 years and the reasons, but we don’t have any concrete details. There might be more in HoH, I haven’t read it yet so lmk if there is). Open to any ideas for this!

- camp is. Tense. It's been only a few months since the war, grief is still fresh, and Jason being tall, blonde, and blue-eyed with a scar ain't helping 💀 some people think Silena was a hero, others think she was a villain, some people sympathized with Luke, others despised him, there's a lotta differing views.

I have loads more ideas that I won't get into here cuz the post'll get way too long, but l'd love to hear what you guys think! What scenes/characterizations should I change? What topics would you like to see handled differently? What should I add? I'm open to any and all suggestions!

Currently outlining TLH, will start posting it on my ao3 once I have the first chapter and 4-5 buffer ones written so I'll prolly start posting it in a month or two? Idk, depends on my workload irl and if I get hit by writer’s block. Maybe less, maybe more, who knows. I'll be writing a bunch of shorter stories for specific moments, time between books, and namely a prequel/tih sequel focusing on Jason's past and who he was before Hera wiped his memory. Open to any suggestions for additional works too. Feel free to drop any questions and suggestions bout the rewrite here or in my ask box!

[vinnoa-articles]

The Cure from Sleep Insanity

[Image by Winter Mohn]

Rating: +18, meaning if you are under this age, do not read. You have been told.

Word count: 3,352

Type: Smut

Characters: reader (female), Law, Chopper and mentions of other Strawhats, Heart Pirates and other pirates.

Trigger warnings/content: choking, consent, some anger, swearing, teasing, restraints, multiple orgasms, fatigue, aftercare, a little rough.

Info: Some of it will be in italics, it is thoughts by another character. If it is Bold and Italics, then it is an ability.

“Why can’t I suture the wound closed when it’s-”

“Because the bleeding might start again, and it may cause more pain!” The little horned reindeer claimed, pointing his hoof at the irritated doctor of the Heart Pirates. Their hats sat side-by-side, in contrast to how they were sitting. He pointed across the books sprawled table, with a single candle flickering in between. The bags of restlessness was prominent under Law’s eyes.  “Think about it, if we wait and let time go by, it may be better”. Law glanced at the furry creature, and usually he would have a soft spot for this creature, but when it comes to the right choice as to what to do in the heat of the moment; he fights it out. Whereas Chopper always thinks with his heart, trying to save people with his soul instead of fighting with his fists. “You could remove the bullet from their chest cavity with your abilities. Tra-guy”. The tired doctor grumbled and scratched his head, trying to comprehend this small creature. Chopper really does seem to go the more humane route, but then again, he typically doesn’t get his paws dirty out in the field in a fight, but rather helping those who need treatment. Where as for Law-

“Yes, but there are limitations to my abilities. Even your abilities have a limit, yes?” His right hand rested under his jaw now, glancing quickly at the fluff ball. “I just-”.

“You need to sleep Tra-guy. You haven’t slept. Thinking rationally is what you need right now, especially if you haven’t been spending a lot of time with your partner”. Sluggishly, Law’s eyes finally met Chopper’s. How long has it been? Granted, a lot of stuff was on his mind such as the Marines, Big Mom, Kaido, Don Flamingo, and many other rivals. Even Luffy and Eustass Kid kept his mind busy, but he even had to think about his pals Bepo and the rest of his crew. Shit, it has been a while hasn’t it. The more I have been fighting and been researching, the more I have been… He hates being wrong next to the reindeer. Rather, he hates more than ever that he is right, and that he does need more sleep and social interaction; over fighting and reading. Leaving an exasperated sigh, and an aggravated groan, he leans on his chair. His messy hair was now slowly being pushed into one direction with how many times his hands ran through his hair tonight.

“Ah! God dammit Chopper-ya. I hate it when you are right, but…” his voice trailed off. Law’s mind was in the clouds, it has been ages since he unwound, let alone rest on a soft surface. Sleeping in chairs, the wooden deck of Sunny, the metal floor of Polar Tang, heck the grass on Sunny was a little better, however a bed sounds divine. Maybe even some time with his partner, but the grogginess has been getting to him. Being up for forty-some hours, he did start seeing visions; Bepo in an Uta outfit, a cooked thing of meat with a straw-hat on top, and-

“Law?” There is no way he heard your voice. He stares at Chopper, whose head was turned to the entrance. Finally turning his head, he saw your figure. Standing against the doorframe. Your eyebrows raised, as you look at him up and down. “Up��again? I can at least tell you bathed today”. God, they really do give him little credit, but as a doctor, if duty calls he has to be somewhat clean right? His black and yellow robe adorned his body loosely, the belt nearly coming undone, with his bare feet propped up on the table, you just had to take in this sight.

“Well, I need to head to bed. I can’t be late to breakfast in the morning!” Chopper hops off the chair nearly twice his height. You can see he is wearing his cute little pig pajamas, and you couldn’t help but smile at his cuteness. Then again, who wouldn’t be chuckling at this cute little doctor. “Jya-na (Japanese: See Ya)”. As he is about to leave the room, you bend down and plant a small little kiss, then pat his head.

“Thanks Chopper. At least we have one responsible doctor that cares about both his patients and himself”. Chopper hopped past you and froze quick before turning to you and glancing up.

“W-w-well…that doesn’t make me happy, konoyaro! (Japanese: you idiot)”, as he did his little cute bashful dance. As his small feet carry him out of your sight, his cute little hooves pit-patting down the long hallway of Sunny-Go. Chuckling at his reaction, you look up to see Law still leaning back in his chair staring at you. His frown was still on his face. When it happened was not apparent since his resting-bitch-face is usually what his default is. However, you can tell he was annoyed by something. By what, you are not really sure. Sighing, you walk closer to him, the candle still flickering near the doctor’s headpieces. Law’s gaze did not falter as you got within a few paces in front of him. He looks irritated even. What could it have been? The lack of sleep? Or maybe…jealousy?

“Law, you do see me right?” He blinked once, then twice, then closed his eyes. A small exhale escaped his lips as he slicked his hair back again, as some hairs came back to place.

“I am surprised you came to see me, if you are really here to see me”. His words stung, yet you could understand why he said that. He hasn’t slept, he has been stuck in this room for a long time. Even Bepo and Chopper bring meals to the library here and there to make sure he isn’t starving himself. Sanji gave up because Law used to forget to eat and the fresh food almost would go wasted; until he force fed it to Law which caused him to do a personality-switch-operation with Zoro and Sanji. Which led to an all out fight that nearly had Nami, Robin, Bepo, Penguin and even Jimbei get involved in. It got resolved, but it nearly took a day for Franky to fix the ship, and a stern scolding from Nami and Luffy to get Law, Zoro and Sanji to get back on track.

“Law, it is me”, your outfit was a lot tighter on your body than you were used to, yet your skirt was flowing so not only would you look cute but at least elegant. You dressed up earlier and didn’t change yet because you were partying at the island before, and you were on nightwatch with Brook tonight. Brook knew that you needed your own version of romance, he has been alive long enough to know that. Brook knew what he was doing, well maybe. “Law, come on…listen to me. It is me, even Chopper talked to me today. Despite how busy he is too!” He was super confused now, he wasn’t sure if it was his dick was talking because he wanted your touch, your skin against his, the warmth of your flesh emanating close to his fingers, the scent of salt from the sea and your body penetrating the air, or if it was the sleepiness and the depravity of rest. “Please look at me when I talk to you”, as you raise your hands to touch his stubble and beard, He smelled so nice of cleaner, yet also musky. He always did smell nice, usually. You could feel his face rest slowly, softly into your palms. Basking in your touch, the soft skin that cradled his jaw, which his fingers were on calloused from using his knives, to his sword. His fingers crawled up to hold your right hand under his jaw, while massaging it gently. This is what he wanted, but God was he going crazy. A man of composure, even in battle, and even when Luffy tells him what to do irks him beyond belief. Right now though, he could smell your scent, his head was starting to get muddled with thoughts. He craved you, a drug that could cure his insanity at this moment.

“God, I need sleep. I can’t be going this dumb over you”, he gasped out. Now you were hurt, how could he say such a thing? He should be happy to see you, not disappointed. You snatch your hands back, but you couldn’t help and hesitate to almost reach back to grab him. He looked tired, yet hot. His sigh rang out into the quiet air, only the slight crackle of the candle could be heard. “Listen, y/n-ya”.

“Save your excuses, I guess if you didn’t want to see me, then you could have said it in the first place”. You were agitated now. There is no way he talked to you like that just now.

“Wait, y/n-ya, that’s not what I meant. You know what I meant-”, Law was fumbling with his words. His robe was withstanding the heat emanating from his body. He could feel his member twitch, but he put down his legs from the table and crossed his legs to hide his growth. “Please, look…you know I didn’t mean it like that dammit,” slicking his hair back again. It was irresistible when he did that normally, and yet you couldn’t care now. “Please listen to me, I just want to understand what else I can do to save those around me. If I can’t do that then…”

“Then what Law? You can’t neglect your social health for just your studies. Your connections are just as important!”

“I know that! God dammit!” He slammed his hand on the table, wishing that was you earlier. “Do you know how long I have wanted to get this done so I can focus on you? Just you?” You were upset, but you have heard enough talk from him; you wanted more action.

“Put your money where your mouth is. Your hands work well on patients, yet it seems you don’t know how to work them at all outside of a fight”. That did it for him. He got up and grabbed your shoulders, nearly slamming you down on the wooden table, snuffing out the candle as you landed. You could see his eyes darkening as he looked at you. His robe was hanging off his frame, his belt so loose you could poke it and it would come undone.

“Say it again. You don’t know how hard I have been working here” nearly shaking you on the table. God, you could feel his hands trembling, yet gripping your shoulders as he shook you.

“I said, you don’t know how to work your hands outside of a fight”, those words made him want to prove you wrong. He was told what to do by Luffy, Chopper was right earlier, and now he cannot let you be right too. Law was slipping more and more from who he was, becoming sloppy with his thoughts. His face gets super close to yours, while he puts his left hand under your head and lifts it up to crash his lips onto yours. Tugging your hair slightly so that he could get a response from you. He knows you love it when he tugs your hair. In this moment though, you were just as stubborn as he, and you tried to fight the urge; no matter how hard it was for you to not moan. His kisses got deeper, and deeper, his tongue was exploring yours and you let go fighting his tongue. Closing your eyes, his lips left yours. You open your eyes to see his eyebrows furrowed, perplexed that what he was doing wasn’t making you moan already “is that all you got?” This brat… Lips traveling down your jaw and to your neck, marking and sucking to make sure people know who you belonged to. Regardless of whether you were right or if he was by the end of this. He looks up, and takes a step back.

Room

You knew what might happen now, and as you saw the space change-

Shambles

You were now in the medical room, of course you were. He must have switched something with you two, and now here you were. His robe comes undone, and you just see him in his black boxers with a bulge that you have seen here and there. You didn’t realize your body was partially leaned back on the medical table, it was cold and yet the room was slightly lit due to the small emergency light plug-in, in case Chopper had to come in. Before you could take in everything, your body gets flipped over, your chest pressing on the cold table. 

“I’ll show you how a doctor works, if you allow me-”

“Of course, you have my consent. Unless you really can’t work with your hands then-” He had heard enough of your back-talk. Room…Shambles Feeling the retrains popping into his hands, tying your hands behind your back. He already has to deal with you talking back, he doesn’t want to give you that power too. His hands gripping your tied hands, he hiked up your skirt so he could see your panties. You tried to stand up properly, but his grip was pushing you down firmly on the table.

“Now now, I can’t have my patient move around while I have to figure out what is wrong, now can I?” You can tell he was smirking based off his tone. His right hand was still gripping onto your wrists and you could feel his rough fingers slowly touching the outside of your panties. “I can tell my patient is aroused. Yet, the only medicine can only be administered by me.” You wanted his fingers in you, and he knew that. Your core ached, this is what you two have missed out on for awhile now. Heck, even the empty space next to you, day-in and day-out was making you restless. Shaking your ass, you waited for your reward for a response, but it never came. “What? You want these?” You felt his right hand loosen, yet his hand went up and on your neck. Subtly choking you, sticking his long fingers into your mouth. God, you wanted it his fingers, and how you longed for it. Subtly sucking on his fingers, you wanted to show him you were serious.

“P-puwase, ah need” Your words a mess, incoherent even to you.

“Need what? I can’t understand my patient.” He removed his fingers from your mouth and back under your neck, choking you slightly but not enough to even hurt. You could feel his other fingers tracing the outside of your wetness on your panties. You knew what was coming, but when? You gasped as you felt his fingers on your neck choke, then release, choke then release. He was a doctor, he knew what it would do to people if he did that.

“I need your fingers, Law!” You felt his fingers leave, only to dive into your panties, into your core. This is what you wanted, and finally you could feel this knot coming undone. His digits were moving in and out, then curling one he went in. He really did do his homework. Your moans and gasps kept emanating in rhythm, as you were grinding into his fingers. “Law- Law I am going to-” before you could finish, you came right onto his fingers. Your moan so loud, you could feel it reverberate through the room. Trembling as you rode out your high, as it has been so long since you felt this.

“So I don’t know how to use my hands, yes?” You couldn’t help it, you wanted to give in, he was right. If you denied it, you don’t even know what would happen, but you are a person of your word.

“Yes, yes you are right. God, now untie me”, you gasp out. Feeling the restraints go undone, he flips you back around, now you are on your back. He looks you up and down. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A tight shirt hugging your body, your skirt a mess, your underwear ajar. Whereas for you, what a sight to behold, his abs and tattoos. His hair was a mess from a little bit of sweat. It was as if you two were looking at each other for the first time again. Licking his fingers, he finally smiled. This was the smile you love, the one that makes you want to grab him and kiss him. To hug him and tell him that the One Piece is near for the taking.

“Y/n-ya…” he bends down to kiss your forehead, and smiles softly, “I don’t think my patient is fully done.” He grabbed a condom, and tore off the wrapper. Slowly pushing his boxers lower, and lower, seeing his v-line almost made you lose your mind. He knew what he was doing, and a doctor was observant.

“Please, Trafalgar…I love you,” you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his cute words. He was a doctor, and at moments you were his love patient. Your heart was robbed by this man, and yet it seemed you didn’t want it back. He pushes his boxers so it is off his waist and it falls to the floor. He peels off your underwear, and you could feel the cold air hit your pussy. Easily rolling the condom on, he lifts your legs up and onto his shoulders. 

“I missed this, y/n. I love you”. Hearing your name fall from his lips without his cute little accent, made your heart skip a beat.

“I missed this too Law. I love you”. Slowly pushing his cock into you, he watched as your mouth formed an “O” shape. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he knew you were ready. Your moans were slipping past your lewd lips, as he kept going in deeper and deeper until his abs nearly touched your stomach. Going slowly, then picking up the pace, the room was full of moans and grunts. “Fuck, Law, yes right there!” His groans and grunts were picking up the pace, you can feel his cock twitching inside you. The pit in your stomach started to form, it coming again. The slaps of skin, the smell of sweat, the creaking of the medical table was ringing in both your ears. He bent down to capture your lips with his, and finally he said his words.

“I am cumming”.

You were too, and with both your release, he slowed down his pace. Gasping for air as his high was running down. You, on the other hand, were shaking. Second orgasm in one night and it was intense due to your emotions of love becoming more than lust from the last orgasm. He slicked his hair back, which now was staying in place. Law tidied up himself so he didn’t look as dissolved from the fuck session. Taking off your clothes gently, he put his robe on your making sure despite being warm from what just happened, the room was still cold. Lifting you up, you could hear him gently say room…shambles. Feeling the plushness of a mattress and sheets on you. Was he here with you? Or was he in the room still? Suddenly, you felt a hand softly go on top of your side. He was here, next to you, by your side.

“Sorry Law for making you so upset”, you whispered not to wake up Zoro, Luffy, Chopper and Usopp from their slumber. Law chuckled slightly, and kissed your neck where there were his love bites slowly deepening in color.

“Its okay, I think I can finally get some good nights rest. Thank you for being my doctor in need.”

And yet, Brook had been wondering where you had been all night, no matter to him. He could sing his heart out tonight without a care in the world.

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

Beginning|| Previous || Next

It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning|| Previous || Next

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with gender-neutral!reader relationship headcanons

Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice, @nixie-writes, and a few other writers in the Hazbin Hotel community for helping me create a piece for one of my favorite characters from the 2019 pilot episode, Husk! :)

Warning: Husk's potty mouth and this is Hell, so indecent things are bound to happen but nothing to imply NSFW content.

Husk gave up on the idea of love years ago, preferring to drown himself in cheap booze and try his luck at the casino before Alastor pulls him away to do a job for him or some other shit because of his contract with the fucking asshole. Why else would he and Nifty be wastin’ time slaving away in a hotel that’s supposed to rehabilitate sinners? Least the pipsqueak gets to clean this place from top to bottom and away from the clients, and he’s stuck handling their drunk asses in the lobby bar.

Angel Dust has been the one who’s been trying to get into his pants since day one, but that’s a different story entirely. He’s persistent, Husk will give the prissy punk that much credit.

Though…he supposed it isn’t all too bad being here. Least since Vaggie hired you. Initially, the job offer she and Charlie had posted online was to manage the front desk, handle phone calls, and all of the other tasks required to be the hotel’s conceirge. However, since there still wasn’t enough staff to do everything, he would see flitting about carrying baskets of clean linens or giving tours around the hotel to potential clients, helping Vaggie with organizing meetings with the press, and so on.

He might be a drunk asshole, but if there’s one part in his body that’s still functioning besides his dick, it's his hearing.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s heard a snide remark from potential or current clients about your polite demeanor, if you’re actually a freak in bed, and a whole lotta other bullshit he did not want to hear when he’s still sober. He didn’t want to care but god fucking dammit it made his skin crawl at the idea of some asshole thinking they had a chance with you. You, who never seemed to lose your smile and would go out of your way to make Nifty’s day by belting out Broadway songs on top of the banister, completely lost in the character you were playing and not giving a shit about anything else.

Not gonna deny it, you had one hell of a voice. You could change the pitch of it so easily. From a high tone all the way down a low, smooth baritone that almost sounded like a siren’s song luring sailors to a watery grave.

When he actually musters the fucking courage (thanks to a lot of booze from earlier in the day) to ask if you’d like to go to a bar or even the casino, Husk thought you would reject him. After all, why would a someone like you would even want to hang around an old fucker like him?

But when he saw your face turn as red as a certain deer bastard’s suit and sputtered that you weren’t very good at the slots, though you were willingly to try your luck at the blackjack table as long it wasn’t a high stake one, Husk thought he had actually achieved the state of inebriation to where he was hallucinating.

However, he was proven wrong when you told him that you’ll be ready by seven to go to the casino. Since he’d been on good behavior and Charlie never had any issues with you as of late, the princess wouldn’t mind the two of you being out for a couple of hours as long as you kept your phones on you in case anything happened.

Alastor could care less since watching a tormented, loveless war veteran being bewitched by a beguiling songstress provided him with much needed entertainment~.

Upon arriving at the casino, Husk pulled you over to the slot machines. He showed you how they worked and how much money you should put in them, so you don’t lose all of it in under an hour. The old-fashioned ones with the levers weren’t so bad, though the rounds would go pretty quick if you weren’t paying attention to the denominations; same thing applied to the new tech ones, betting could go from 88 cents to up to two dollars.

In the end, you quit after trying three different machines and went to go find the restroom. Husk decided to go find a bar and order a couple of drinks. One for himself, and one for you. A couple of fellas, hellhounds by the look of ‘em, asked him if the ‘pretty little thing’ he was with earlier is with him or if you were single.

“They’re with me, so fuck off.” He grumbled.

“Ya sure about that, old man?”

Husker growled, feeling his hackles rise at the provocation, half of it he blamed on the booze. As much as he wanted to teach these punks a thing or two about showin’ respect….they weren’t worth ruinin’ his first date with you. First impressions made all the difference, least when he’d been alive. So he made a rude hand gesture and sat at the bar until he heard you call out to him.

“Everything all right, Husk? I hope I didn’t interrupt anything between you and your friends. The guys you were talkin’ to before they took off.”

He smirked. “Nah. If I knew them, they’d know how to play poker.” He stood up and grabbed his drink, handing over yours. “C’mon, let’s hit the blackjack tables and see how good you really are.” He said, leading you to your next stop for the night.

Turned out that you weren’t all talk. You were able to win five out of seven rounds, never showing any anxiety or indication that your hand was either good or bad. For kicks, Husk asked if you wanted to try the poker table. You agreed, but just to two rounds. If you weren’t comfortable continuing to play, please allow you to walk away. Husk agreed, opting to watch you from the sidelines as moral support instead of joining you at the table.

Three words could only describe what he saw next: holy fucking shit.

All you could do was smile sheepishly at him when he asked how the ever living fuck were you this good at gambling and didn’t say anything as the two of you left the casino with a hefty sum of cash.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d gotten banned from more than one casino when I was alive because I was just good at card counting?”

He stared at you for a long moment before he grinned widely, clapping you on the back. “I knew I had my eye on ya for a reason!”

‘Course, you’d never know that he wanted to show you that he’s one hell of a gambler at the casino instead of the other way ‘round. How he knew to play his cards right and treat you to something nice, show those little shitheads that a real gentleman knows how to win the game and a good-lookin’ partner all in the same night.

Still…gettin’ spoiled at a nice restaurant for a change wasn’t too bad…so long as no one from the hotel saw them. Especially Alastor.

And that was how your first date went. Nothing too crazy, least the two of you didn’t run into any trouble on the way back to the hotel. Husk walked you to your room, wished you good-night, and went to drink a little more before passing out in his own room.

Husk hasn’t been with anyone in an incredibly long time. There will be moments when he might seem harsher than usual towards you and tries to brush everything off, or chug it down with alcohol. He struggles to communicate with his feelings to someone else, so patience and respect for boundaries is key.

He does not tolerate any disrespect towards you, even if you try to tell him to ignore the sinner who is catcalling after you when the two of you are walking through the Pride Ring to pick up stuff for the hotel. If it happened at a bar while you’re on a date? Be prepared to have chairs go flying or Husk tearing a new hole in the poor bastard who pissed him off.

He is not a fan of PDA. He has a reputation to uphold in the hotel and on the streets. Behind closed doors, however, he will be more lenient. Cuddles and midday naps are exceptional, with him pressing against your body with his tail loosely coiled around your thigh and one of his wings acting as a shield or even a blanket.

Speaking of feathers and fur, he does need to groom himself periodically, especially when it's molting season. You need to be gentle if you want to help him since his skin can be especially sensitive around this time of the year.

Actions speak a lot louder to him than pretty words. If you show him that you do care for him and will never betray his trust or loyalty, he will return it tenfold. He will do everything in his power to make you as happy as you have made him in this shithole.

Taglist

@angelltheninth

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@selineram3421

@nixie-writes

@dragonempress18

@ceoofdabicorpsensfw

@lbcreations-blog

@chroniccorvus

@food-theorys-blog

[youuuimeanmee]

SxF Chapter 95 Thoughts

The drought is over.

And HOLY MOLY

AAAAAA I know we're nearing the end-semester gala but I never thought we'd get it on THIS chapter AAAADHJDJSKDN

When I saw the chapter is 21-pages long, I made sure to savor it well sskskjs

"Guardians will not be attending the gala." DAMMIT. Oh wait, Twillight can just disguise himself as a volunteer. I forgot.

Lol this is really not good for Damian's poor little heart.

WOHOO Becky cute!!

Huh, looks like Henry and Martha had a history together. Maybe they used to be classmates in Eden? Or something else, maybe.

The party is different than I expected. I thought ALL students will mingle in one place. I thought we'd meet Demetrius here. Oh well.

Damn this is depressing. Reassignation class based on academic performances. It's really happening. Anya will be separated from Becky. Hopefully their classroom will not be that far off 🥲

Damn Damian. Looking fine there, like a true young chaebol.

ANYA IS CUTE!! She's a princess!! 😭💕 I was surprised with her hair, I thought she'd keep the haircones. It's almost like as long as the little bundle of her hair is protected, any hairstyle is fine. Her dress though... It's darker than I expected; I thought she'd go with light color. But this is fine too. She's cute either way. (lowkey reminds me of a little witch, lol). It's also cute how she and Damian looks matching with black-and-white outfits, hehe. (Then again, this is b&w manga. Will their outfits have different color in the colored illlustration?)

Nicee Ewen, you do know when to give credits when it's due.

Nah Damian you're just making up shit now. You have excellent eyes, you know her dress is not cheap.

Of course Damian would fo anything for any imperial-scholar related. Cute.

Now this is interesting.

Some people say it's a reference to Harry Potter, so I wonder if some of it will turn out to be true. Especially the last two: "the cursed underground maze in section 4" and "the sealed chamber in the tower of wisdom." Sounds like hella suspicious places for a school filled with top political figures in the country. What if those are the places Donovan entered often? Hmmm. *sus glance* Wonder if DamiAnya gang will tackle the 7 mysteries like in Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun and see something they shouldn't see like in Promised Neverland, lol.

Anya, you got this! It's the name you learned in the school's interview! She already forgot, lol. But at least she got the "Ben" right!

Wonder if any of these kids will become Anya's new classmate, lol. Endo really used his break time brainstorming new characters here.

OMG IM DED. Narcis Hubrisse. Brayzen. These fucking fitting names I swear 🤣🤣🤣

Yesss you go Becky. Set your standard high. Don't mingle yourself with these lowly boys.

YAAASS. A GENTLEMAN ASKING ANYA OUT. YOU GO BOY. Even if it's a facade at least it's better than these Hubrisse and Brayzen boys.

OH.MY.GOD. FFFUUUUCKKK AJDNSKDBKDJDJSKHDUDJXNJDKDHDJJSJKSJSJSYEEEESSSSSS

HE'S HEREE HE'S FUCKING HERE. His hairstyle is ugly but HE'S HERE. I was wondering if we're gonna meet him soon. I was righttt, he iss gonna be a recurring character. I mean look at the name reveal from chapter 93. Look at that damn edgy hair. Hopefully he will be Anya's new classmate. But I never thought he'd put an interest in her as a runner-up in the classical language test. What is his background? How is he so good with the classical languange to even reach 90-ish points even though it's rarely taught? Does he have a connection with Anya with his gift in classical language and weird hairstyle? Why does he have such unsettling bow tie? I need to knooww

And he even pull off such a strong reaction from Damian too, skskjsksk. 2nd ML candidate? Lmao

Good to know Arnold's family is B tier. Not bad.

Twillightt you got soft. Letting Anya and Damian do whatever they want? What happen to the mission?

Lowkey sad to see Anya trying hard because Twillight didn't trust she would do a good job in plan B.

Oh mah gahh these preciouss kiddss 😭True homiess 😭😭💕💕

At least this will ensure Anya to get her place fair and square.

I wonder if Twillight realize Anya is approaching Damian for the sake of world peace she mentioned. Or he's simply motivated with Anya's motivation.

But at this rate, the dance will be over the moment Damian got his partner, lmaoo

Great comeback chapter! 🔥🔥🔥

*Edit: Screw what I said that Arnold might be the 2nd ML. I don't trust his hairstyle, his droopy eyes, his bow tie, and his polite manners. So far we've seen only adorable children but he could be evil for all we know. Better be cautious than sorry.*

[666writingcafe]

Break It Up

MC

As Solomon and I are walking over to the castle to meet with Diavolo, we suddenly hear a whole lot of shouting. Seconds later, Mammon goes flying in the air and lands on his ass out in the middle of the street.

"What's the big idea?!" he yells, standing up and walking back towards the building he got thrown out of.

"Dammit," I mutter as I rush over to him, followed closely behind by Solomon.

"Mammon, no," I hear Asmo call out. He tries to pull his brother away, but he gets shoved hard. Solomon and I get on either side of Mammon and yank him back.

"Let me go!" he yells. "I have to teach them a lesson!"

"You're only going to provoke them more," Solomon tells them.

"Well, maybe they should be provoked! They have no right doing what they did to me, rotten sons of bitches!" Mammon starts walking forward again as he loudly threatens to kick the shop attendants out. Solomon loses his balance and lets go of Mammon. Somehow, I'm not only able to hold on to him, but also physically restrain him on my own merely by standing behind him and holding him against my chest.

"What the hell?!" Mammon screams.

"What did you do?" I hiss in his ear.

"I didn't do anything! They're the ones in the wrong! I just wanted to try on some clothes, and they're denying me service!"

"We don't sell to angel scum!" someone inside the shop hollers. Oh, so that's what this is about.

"We need to leave," I whisper to Mammon. "Now."

"But--"

"They're not going to listen to anything you have to say. The longer you push the issue, the more they're going to dig their heels in."

"It's wrong, Zephyr!"

"I agree, and I'll talk to them when they're in a calmer mood, but if we stay here any longer, they're going to end up calling the police, and they'll make these guys look cute in comparison." Mammon quits struggling in my arms, and I'm finally able to get him to walk away from the situation.

Once the four of us are a few blocks away, I ask the two brothers what they were even doing out there anyway.

"We just wanted to explore!" Asmo exclaims. "We've been cooped up in the castle for so long, and we just got our own place, so we figured we would see what the Devildom has to offer! Lucifer even gave Mammon his credit card!" His last statement causes me to stop and turn around to look sternly at Mammon.

"What?" he asks me.

"Don't play dumb."

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're a terrible liar. Hand over the card."

"But--"

"Would you rather Lucifer ask for it back personally? Because I'm sure he'd be so thrilled to find out that you took it without his permission." Asmo gasps.

"Mammon, you didn't!" he exclaims. Mammon tries to hide his expression by looking down at the ground, but I can see the guilt written all over his face.

"If you give it to me, I can at least act as a buffer against his anger," I tell him. Sheepishly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out Lucifer's credit card. Once I have it, I stick it in my own pocket. I just have to remember that it's there so that I can give it back to its rightful owner.

"Solomon, let Lord Diavolo know that Mammon and Asmo will be joining us. I don't want him to be surprised by their presence."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 5!

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety, stalking, job shenanigans, Billy wiling to protect you in every way possible.

A/N: Babes, I am having the worst day possible. I could use some love. Please, please, send something, anything my way if you have any appreciation for me. ❤

'Billy, it's what my friends call me.'

Was that what you were? Friends?

Or was it an accident?

'Right, sorry for bothering. Just curious.'

Okay, that was a good place to end.

You put your phone down, moving to grab a glass of water, but spinning back excitedly when another alert comes in.

'Don't say sorry. Or else.'

Fucking shit, was he flirting?

No way.

'Or else?' you ask.

Your heart pounds.

'Or else, I'll demand your apology in person, preferably over dinner.'

Holy fucking shit he was.

He liked you?

No, no way.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

Dammit, he was still a client.

Shit, you shouldn't.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I don't want to-' You begin to type it, but quickly backspace.

'Can we do it as friends?' You erase that too.

Yes, you wanted to say yes, yes sir, take me into your arms and then preferrably your bed.

Damn, you didn't know what to say.

the typing bubbles pop up, and you wait patiently.

'Let's table that conversation though, at least until our work relationship comes to an end. Yes?'

You breathe a sigh of relief.

'Yes, that sounds great.' You answer.

You move toward your window, looking over, hoping to catch sight of him.

He's there, shirtless once more, black joggers wrapped around his legs, wide shoulders and large hands.

He sips at his coffee, holding his phone up.

You look down, typing out a little message to send to him. You watch the corner of his lips pull up into a smile as he reads it.

'Happy Sunday.' Is all you'd said.

.

"Anvil accepted the proposal."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good work." Andrew informs.

"Thanks, I thought I was on thin ice for a second there." You say, taking a sip of water in your relief.

Andrew nods in understanding.

"So we'll pass the project on to someone else so you can focus on other things." He says casually.

Wait, what?

He was giving the project to someone else?

"Wouldn't it be easier if I held on to it? I mean, I did all the grunt work for the assessment, I know the building better than anyone else here."

Andrew shrugs.

"It's just a building. Won't be that hard for someone else to pick up. We really need you focusing your skills elsewhere."

No room for argument.

Your shoulders drop, you nod in compliance.

You'd worked so hard, and that was it, someone else would get the credit for your work.

You were going to quit.

Maybe this was for the better, William wasn't a client to you now, maybe you could finally take him up on dinner.

You shake your head angrily, maybe he was the one who requested you be taken off. Maybe he'd only entertained the thought of you because you were a woman.

What if his only goal had been to seduce you?

You sigh, shoulders dropping as you approach your desk, noticing a couple of work documents come in.

You open them absentmindedly, sorting them into the right area on your desk, still deep in thought about what you should do.

Realistically, you should quit, if they didn't respect you now, they probably never would.

Very infuriating, maybe your place of work could use a little brushing up on ethics too.

You pull the last document from the last envelope and you frown.

This.... was a photo of you.

.

Billy was pissed.

He'd been invited in to sign contracts with your company, and discuss lead times and security protocols, and he'd just discovered that you'd been pulled from the project.

For once, he and the predator were in agreement.

He was going to raise hell.

"Unfortunately gentlemen, we have a problem."

He heard Andrew's heart pick up speed.

"What is it?"

Billy leans back in his seat.

"I'd prefer your old specialist, I've had time to watch and assess her work. She's able to answer almost any question I ask, and where she is unable, I don't have to wait long for an answer."

Andrew swallows.

"All my specialists are very much equipped to handle your questions." He protests.

Billy leans back, nods his head.

"I'm sorry, then I'm not interested in accepting your proposal," He leans forward, rises to a stand, "Pleasure doing business with you." He says, extending a hand to shake.

Andrew is sweating now, the stench of his anxiety permeates the air.

"We can come to some other arrangement, keep her on the project, so that she has time to focus on everything she needs to."

Billy hated that idea. It meant you would have to ask someone else's approval for your ideas, that someone else would be able to take credit for your hard work.

In every aspect, Billy found himself protective of you, and he wanted your complete involvement, or none at all.

"Then we don't really understand each other very much now do we?" He says, dropping his hand and turning away.

"Be reasonable, Mister Russo-"

"-I'm not being reasonable? I want the specialist that assessed the weak points in my company and drafted a plan to take lead on carrying out that plan. How is that unreasonable?"

Andrew hesitates, he swallows, the predator pulls hungrily at Billy, demanding blood, enticed by the scent of fear.

"She- she resigned a few days ago. Doesn't work here anymore."

The news shocks him, a little bit of worry snakes down his spine though he keeps himself calm.

He checks his watch absentmindedly.

"We could have saved a lot of time if you'd just told me that from the start." He nods his head at both men.

"Have fun finding someone half as good as her. Goodbye."

He turns finally, walks out of the office, smiles in satisfaction as he hears Andrew swear angrily.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, a quick text in your direction.

'We need to talk.'

.

Except you didn't want to talk to him. You'd been hiding in your house for the last few days, ever since you'd quit your job. The photo sitting on your kitchen counter.

It was you, leaving Amy's apartment a couple of weeks ago. It had worried you, that when you'd felt like you were being watched.... you were actually being watched.

You didn't say anything, wondering if it was just a one time thing. One single photo was barely enough to go to the police with, you'd be overlooked for more important things no doubt, and worse yet, what if things got worse because you reported it?

It just wasn't a good enough risk to take, so instead, you'd rushed on quitting your job, and decided to get back into the job market.

You're studying the photo when his text comes in, you wanted to burn it, pretend it didn't happen, and move on with your life. It was just one photo after all.

You reach for your phone, reading his message, the ominous nature of it sinking into you.

You try to be professional in your response.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I'm not available today.' Is your response.

'I just heard you quit your job.'

'Yes?'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

You blink, you don't know how to respond to that. You were barely acquaintances, you didn't owe him anything.

'Why would I have told you?' You ask.

You can almost sense his frustration.

'Let's meet. There's a café a block away.' He follows up with a location.

'6 p.m? Yes?'

When you don't respond, his next message is just your name, you find yourself clenching involuntarily, you can almost hear his voice in your head, the casual way he demands compliance.

'Okay.' Is all you say.

You still feel like you're being watched. From the moment you step out into the street, your heart is pounding, your lungs squeeze in your chest.

Was there someone watching you right now?

Would there be another photo?

You look around, and you check your peripherals, and though nothing is amiss, you still feel watched.

It's terrifying, you stop halfway to the café, you almost turn around and run back home.

Despite being afraid of outside, you knew that you were safe inside. You'd done a full assessment of Anvil's security, after all, you knew the weak points, and though there weren't many, you're sure Billy- William would have compensated for most of them by now.

But out here, there were too many places for an assailant to be hiding. It was scary, and you were almost petrified by the thoughts. There was a stalker, or even a new serial killer, just around the corner.

You really needed to book another session with your therapist.

You sit in the back corner of the little café, a very rustic interior decor, filled with stained wood countertops and paintings made out of coffee on the faded red walls.

The sound of the coffee grinder goes off every now and then, the steamed milk foamer next, and you find yourself relaxed by the repetitive sounds. No one looks at you, spares you a glance, and there's even a comfort in that.

But he takes the air out of the room when he walks in.

Your stomach, as knotted as it is, knots even more at the sight of him, heart fluttering, begging for something you've never had before.

Dressed down, grey shirt, black jeans, you want to sit on his firm thighs if only for a moment. He's not wearing a coat, or even a jacket, despite the chill in the evening air. He probably runs hot, and you think about what that would feel like, in bed, beside you, before you come to your senses.

"Would you like something?" He asks, when he comes up to the little booth you're at, palms braced against the table, eyes glancing at the menu in explanation.

"It's on me." He says easily.

The corner of your lip rises.

"Why? Because I left my job you think I can't afford a vanilla latte?"

Something rises in him, amusement perhaps, his eyes move slowly down your body, and then back up to your eyes.

"You think you're funny, but don't worry, I'll get you your vanilla latte."

He straightens, eyes lingering on your burning face. He turns, and walks to the counter.

You gulp.

Jesus Christ.

He comes back, with a cup for you, and one for himself, and you thank him easily.

"Tell me what happened." He starts, and you look up at him, his face composed, no room for argument.

You swallow.

"They pulled me from the project."

He nods.

"And... it made me feel undervalued... overlooked."

He takes a deep breath, you can't tell what's going through his mind.

"I turned the contract down."

You blink in surprise.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted your expertise, not some idiot who would lie to me and think they're getting away with it."

You lean back, sighing.

"They're going to think we're involved."

He shakes his head.

"Because I value your opinion?"

"Do you? Or is this-" You cut yourself off, glancing away.

"Say it."

"Is this... only because you want to be involved with me?"

A long moment of silence, your heart drops. He was going to make fun of you for assuming something like that no doubt.

"It's not that. It's the way you think. It's the way I can see you thinking ten steps ahead. Most people, are too focused on the brushstrokes, when you're looking at the whole painting."

Tears spring to your eyes. You look up, blinking fast to push them away. Your throat tightens.

To be seen like this, shook you to your very core.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." You say softly, voice barely above a whisper.

No one, had ever seen you like this before.

It made you want him. You'd been thinking this entire time that he couldn't give two shits about you, when he'd been appreciating your work ethic from a distance.

Did he like you? Probably not, but that was okay, because this was a good alternative.

"I want to hire you as a consultant." He follows up, smiling at you when your eyes widen.

"Mister Russo-"

"-Billy, please."

"Mister Russo," You emphasize with a shake of your head, "this is too much."

"How is it too much?" He asks, leaning back, "You're experienced with the innerworkings of my company, you know the layout, you know the problems. Name a price, and be there on Monday."

You clap a hand over your mouth, a soft laugh of disbelief bubbling through.

"You're insane." You say, eyebrows raised, daring to speak to him in such an informal manner.

He grins, beautiful and alluring, leaning in, eyes filled with mirth.

"I know I am. It's why I'm good at what I do. Think about it."

You nod, deep in thought.

You had a couple months of rent saved up as is, you would be able to survive for a little while if you turned him down.

On the other hand, Anvil was one of the best security companies in New York. There was no safer place. Any potential stalkers would find difficulty in getting random letters to you.

Plus, he valued you, he saw your worth, had made it extremely clear.

Only a fool would turn down what he could offer- or someone extremely smitten.

"To be very clear," You say, avoiding his eyes, "You're not offering this because you're interested in sleeping with me, are you? Because if you are, then I don't want it."

.

"I'm not interested like that." He lies, feels the predator roar in anger, curling one hand into a fist in his lap to fight it.

Her safety matters most, he tells himself, job safety included.

He would protect her.

Even if it meant he couldn't touch her again.

.

You can't help looking around.

It's dark now, and you're so on edge, looking behind you, studying each alleyway you pass, the paranoia pulling at the seams of your sanity, demanding you panic.

"We're not being followed." William says calmly from beside you.

You swallow, looking over at him.

"How do you know?"

He smiles softly, gazing forward.

"Before Anvil, I served ten years in the Marines. Three tours. I know when I'm being watched."

So you were just paranoid then.

You squeeze your fists tightly, releasing the tension in your body before confessing.

"A couple of months ago, someone tried to kill me." You say to him, eyes glued to the ground.

"I'd been camping in the woods with my friends, we did it every year, this time-" The words die, you can't find the strength to speak.

"I know. Anvil runs background checks. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

You breathe a sigh of relief, you'd figured the company had looked into you. Ensuring you weren't a security threat was very important. If it wasn't being done, you would have suggested it yourself.

"Yeah, thanks. After, it's just hard to relax when I'm outside. It's hard to do anything."

He nods, deep in thought.

"It's a good thing you work for a security company then, no safer place to be."

Later, into the night, when you're fast asleep, the predator visits you in your dreams.

"I'll keep you safe," He whispers into your ear, lays a soft kiss on your cheek.

You hum in bliss, arms curling tighter around the pillow you're holding, yearning for something you could only dream of.

.

.

.

[juiceedapplee]

Con-Artists and You: How to Get Scammed

Sampo x gn!reader

A new item has been added to the menu!

—Sampo has scammed and lied way too often to not be considered a con-artist. Being a con-artist has its ups and downs of course, you get money and meet people but you also risk getting your ass kicked. Thank god you’re around though, what would our dear old Sampo do without you?

Here you stand, wondering what went wrong and why you no longer have any credits or shields in your wallet.

Did you get robbed? Mugged? No, the only time you went out before right now was to get your mail and take a short walk around and you were pretty sure no one ran off with your purse.

Okay, then did you lose it? Of course not, losing money isn’t that easy when you leave your wallet in the same place everyday and keep track of your finances. So then you must have been scammed or bought something no?

Dammit. You recall meeting Sampo earlier, thinking you’d take a stroll since the weather was nice. Well how did he scam you? Last time I checked you were pretty good at detecting scams. Hey! It isn’t your fault that whenever Sampo shows up you can’t help but lose yourself in his eyes. It’s his for having those genes. And the way he laughs and talks with his hands, trying to get you to help him with something. “You’ll help me right?” Sampo asks you, a sort of desperation in his voice. And you, who have not really paying attention just nod and go “Mhm! I’d love to” “Wonderful! I’ll text you when I need ya! Welp, I gotta be off I have veery important business to attend to.” Sampo says as he waves good bye and walks off.

But if that’s not how you lost your money then how? Well, after Sampo sent you a text, you went out to meet him. And there he was, holding a few bags standing around, waiting for you to show up. “Ah! There you are, I was wondering if you could a-bla-blah-blah” Yep. You decided to tune him out in favor of staring at his lips move, occasionally nodding your head and saying “Yeah.” “Mhm.” “Totally.”

“Then I’ll be sure to treat you dinner to repay you, my dear friend.” Oh, is it a date? No. “Wow, I can’t believe we’re going on a date.” Is what you think in your head, muting that part of yourself that says that no, it isn’t a date and he literally just called you friend. “Alright then if you could just hand me the money than that would be great!”

What? Money? When did he? Oh. It must of been when you were tuning him out. Oopsies! What can you do other than give it to him now, plus, he’s gonna take you out to dinner! You pull out your wallet and hand it to him, telling him to “Just take what you need! I get paid soon anyway.” That’s a lie. “Wow, you really are so nice. Yknow, I like to think im just a hard working guy, someone who just wants to live his life but keeps getting roped into other people’s problems. Oh woe is me.” He says as he takes every bit of cash out your wallet. “Well I’ll see you around friend! I’ll text ya when I can take you out for dinner!”

Ah. So that’s how that happened. 😐

Well, in your defense, I guess you were so unfocused that you couldn’t have been able to know what would’ve happened, if only he wasn’t so pretty, and if only you weren’t so in love with him.

So here you are, standing outside, no money in your wallet and a craving for stone grilled olm. Well, at least Sampo will take you out to dinner, eventually.

This drink contains

A small cash grab: $5.00

A bomb shaped ice cube: ¢.25

A dash of delusion: $1.50

Total: $6.75

I decided to spontaneously start a new fic and it was gonna be “how to not get scammed” with reader kicking his ass but I decided against it, I also didn’t go in that direction anyway. But I thought why not make a fic about the man who inspired my theme (and my bbg)

[wr1t3w1tm3]

I wanted to add another little bit about clothing and characters of PotC.

I don't think it's a coincidence that of all the characters, only Jack Sparrows costume has remained relatively unchanged. Of all the characters, he's changed the least.

But looking at Elizabeth in the picture above, on the right, we see that her outfit has changed quiet a lot from her first (adult) appearance in CotBP (below).

In CotBP, she is obviously wearing a dress with a corset, but we see she is wearing a white dress with yellow accents. Her final outfit from At World's End (outside of the end credit scene, which doesn't count) is black with gold/yellow accents. Earlier in AWE, we see her in all black, and even briefly in the scene where Soa Feng puts her in the more ornamental robes, those are dark colors. My point here is that as Elizabeth's story progresses, she dresses in darker colors. It happens in every movie.

In CotBP she goes from the white with gold to a sort of mauve-y red (IDK I don't know my colors that well) to that bright red coat on Isla De Muerta. And at the end, during the execution sequence, she's in that other yellow dress (see below). And even when she's in her underthings, they're white. Which we only see her in when she's surrounded by Norrington and his soldiers. When she's back where society would deem her "place". When she's aboard a pirate vessel, where she can be truer to herself, she's in darker colors. Around society, she has an image to upkeep, so she wears the lighter colors, using them as a shield.

And I can't forget pants. Elizabeth wearing pants near the end of the movie really drives home just how much she's changed in these movies. Here she's wearing arguably the least amount of clothes she's worn during the entire movie (even her underclothes are several layers of full-length dress like stuff). Even Anamaria, the only other significant female character in CotBP wears pants. They show the freedom these women have as pirates. This same point can be made when she eventually ends up in soley pants through the mid part of DMC to the end of AWE, except for the brief moment she's in a dress while imprisoned by Soa Feng, which I feel only strengthens my point.

Now, let's look at Will in the above (left) picture. He's in what I like to call his "Muskateer Get Up" - he's wearing the more billowy, formal shirt, a brown vest with double crossed belts, a red cape, brown pants and that garish hat. Will's outfits in CotBP are much less about color and more about appearance. In the picture above from Will's first adult appearance, he is pictured wearing a full, formal suit with tie, coat, and everything. As the movie progresses and he gets closer and closer to Elizabeth, he loses more pieces of that suit.

By the end of CotBP, Will is left with just his vest, trousers, and undershirt from the original ensemble.

Him putting on the more colorful ensemble at the end to free Jack is symbolic of him accepting his true identity (son of a pirate) and allow his experiences to change him.

I wanna talk about hair here for a second. Elizabeth and Will both get hair used as a symbol as well. For Will, his is kept up until approx. his capture in CotBP by Barbossa. Once he's finally in the thick of it, and once again when he's accepted the results of his actions, it's down (in the opening shot with Governor Swann we can see his hair is kept back in a ponytail). The same can be said for Elizabeth: during the scenes where she is wearing her lighter clothes, where society is expecting something of her, her hair is kept up. When she goes out to Barbossa's ship, and basically up until she's back in her stuffy societal position, her hair is down. Now, it's not practical, but it is symbolic (I still don't give it a pass. That is a crime honey. I have to put my hair back to walk to class when it's windy, put your damn hair up on the high seas dammit!).

Back to clothes: we really get to see this change in Elizabeth and Will's characters and their clothing best in DMC and AWE.

We can see here that Elizabeth is once again in yellow, and her hair is done in a half up, half down style. Her yellow is once again a symbol of her being in a societally "acceptable" position (the same can be said for Will, more on that in a moment), however her hair can be seen as a sort of "sticking it to the man", since, as we've established, Elizabeth's hair is down when she is getting a taste of freedom. Marrying Will is an act of freedom for her, since she's not been forced to marry Norrington. With Will, we get a special blend of symbolism. He too is wearing yellow, which can be seen as symbolic of him doing a "societally deemed chill" thing: getting married. However, his is surrounded by the much darker blue, which as I will establish momentarily, is a symbol of him straying further towards piracy and away from society. This is also the fanciest get up we see him in: he looks like a soldier and has the same tricorn hat we know Jack wears. As far as his hair, it's up in a ponytail. So, we know that Will is in a societally acceptable position, but just like Elizabeth, his scuffle with pirates previously has changed him. However, unlike Elizabeth, he's not really acknowledging that in public, hence the ponytail.

Just like with CotBP, DMC gives us similar outfit evolutions with Will and Elizabeth, but with some minor changes. Will still ends up stripping down to the most basic components of his suit by the end (though this time he doesn't get a final outfit change, though it appears he gets it at the beginning as he doesn't seem to be in the full wedding suit when he leaves Port Royal) and Elizabeth ends up in pants and a red shirt once more. Both have their hair down as they return to piracy, again a symbol of their freedom or even just comfort level away from society. Elizabeth is back in pants again, relatively free (despite the whole Davy Jones situation). The only major hair change to note is that when she's on Tortuga, Elizabeth keeps her hair up and very short looking. Even if this is a temporary change, it's the first time we really see her acting like a pirate. Even stowing over to Tortuga she'd kept to the shadows and been witty about her interactions with the crew. This shorter hair can be taken to symbolize a new start (even if, again, it's only temporary).

What I want to note here is the colors used. Both end up wearing significantly darker colors by the end of the film. Even their yellow and blue at the beginning of the film are the darkest we've seen outside of the blue navy coats, but I'd personally argue that Will's coat is darker than the EICo's blue. Elizabeth's dress is a darker yellow, and as the movie progresses, they end up in darker and darker colors. Both end in grungy, dirty clothes too, in contrast with the previous film. Will is in greyer tinted, dingy stuff, and Elizabeth is wearing maroon and a brown darker than Will's from CotBP.

Also, I'm putting a quick pin in Elizabeth's maroon from DMC for Will's fit in AWE. We already saw Will wearing yellow for the first time in DMC when Elizabeth so prominently wore the color in CotBP, so him wearing maroon in AWE after Elizabeth wore it prominently in DMC cannot be a coincidence. I think it's probably a very literal symbol, in that she is really starting to rub off on Will.

Now let's jump to AWE. Elizabeth is featured initially in all black (minus the hat and poncho which are quickly discarded). Will's outfit also appears this way due to the water he's been soaked in, although we soon learn that it's black with the maroon shirt. Everyone's in mostly dark clothes, as this is a dark hour for pirates. Also here, Will's hair is undone, and Elizabeth's is in a tight braid. Again, Elizabeth is in a more "acceptable" position, but this doesn't last long. It's down again once they hit Davy Jones locker. Will's hair, however, stays back almost the entire movie, beginning with their search for the locker (See below).

As I mentioned before, the dark clothes are a pretty standard symbol for dark times. Just about everyone in this movie is wearing dark clothes. The maroon on Will still shows how Elizabeth has rubbed off on him, but his hair back shows us he isn't as free as he could be, how he's trying to hide the effect of his experiences on the Flying Dutchman from everyone. He's weighed down between his options: Elizabeth and his father. We learn pretty quickly into the movie that he's gonna have to choose, and he doesn't want too.

Once again, as mentioned above, Elizabeth is the one who gets an outfit change for this movie. First, she ends up in the red and blue ensemble from Soa Feng. Red is a color we've seen her in before, one we know she's comfortable in. Blue is one we haven't seen her in, so we can see how she sort of feels during this scene through these colors. At first, she's ill at ease, but once Soa Feng reveals his cards, she gets him hook, line, and sinker. She's in control. She's cool, she knows what she's doing.

When Elizabeth rolls up to the pirate council in the black and gold threads from Soa Feng, she also has her hair up (not many pictures of that, unfortunately). And while, yes, that does mean she's in an "acceptable position", I think here its more that she's in a position she's prepared for. She's the governor's daughter, so a position of power is something she theoretically should have in the bag. And we see she does because she becomes Pirate King pretty quick. Again, it's a dark hour, but that gold really ties her character back to when she was firmly the governor's daughter: when she only wore yellow. Something I didn't mention above is that Elizabeth really only wears yellow in the presence of her father, the governor. And again, really only while he's the real power. By the time he loses that to Cutler Beckett, she's in maroon and brown. The colors symbolize that while this is the pirate's darkest hour, Elizabeth is prepared for this. She can lead them. And her hair, once again down, represents that she is free here, even in the face of impending doom (same with her pants). She is a real pirate, and she's ready to fight for their freedom (even if I would HIGHLY recommend tying your damn hair back, girl!).

Let's look at Will now. In AWE, he's got some pretty static character stuff, but that's okay, because he got a lot of that in DMC. His most major outfit is the switch from a black vest during the locker sequences to a black coat when Jack throws him overboard and lets him get captured. He's still got a crossed belt, which has become a staple, and we get a little pop of color from his sash/gun belt thing. Which, funnily enough, looks to be predominantly brown, red, and gold.

So as far as colors, we again get the darkest hour bit, although for Will his is more of a darkest hour because he's going to soon be forced to choose between his dad and his (I'm assuming) fiancé. The maroon shows that Will and Elizabeth are still connected, she's still rubbing off on him despite their coolness during this movie. The steaks of color in his belt help us really see where he came from too, red from AWE, the gold again from Elizabeth, and the brown calling all the way back to CotBP.

Will's final costume change comes once he's sort of forced into the captainship of the Flying Dutchman. He's still wearing the black coat and maroon shirt, with the black crossed belt, but there's two major changes: the bandanna and his hair. The hair I'll harp on real quick because it's down. And as far as we've discussed, that mean he's more himself, that he's allowing the world to see just how much he's been changed by the circumstances around him. Like Calypso says, Will has a "touch 'a destiny", and as far as we can tell, this is quite literally where he is meant to be (for the 2007 crowd this was assumed to be in perpetuity as well). This is like, literally the 2nd or 2 times his hair is down in this movie. Do I like that all the symbols are pointing to him being here on purpose? fuck no. But it gives me that kind-of-icky-kind-of-not pit on my stomach that tells me this is a narratively satisfying conclusion.

Turning to the bandana, this is something we've never seen his character wear, ever, in the entire franchise. The only other prominent characters we see wear bandannas are those who do so under hats: Jack and Barbossa. And both of them are captains. So, the bandana not only signifies the magic-girl-transformation(TM)that Will undergoes after getting his heart carved out by (assumedly) his own father; but it also symbolizes his new role in life: captain of the Flying Dutchman. Its color tells us something too, the same as his clothes. The maroon symbolizes how Elizabeth has worn off on him, and the black shows us that when he became captain, it was a dark time. But the bandanna, that baby is green. What can that symbolize? Well, do me a favor and scroll back up to Will and Elizabeth's wedding outfits from DMC. What colors are they wearing? Yellow and Blue? I sure hope so. What color does yellow + blue = ? Green. Will's bandana symbolizes not only his new station in life, but also the entwinement of his and Elizabeths' destinies, now for all eternity. That's why even though Norrington ended up in gold and blue, like Will, he never got any green, he says it himself: "Our destinies were entwined, but never joined" (I paraphrase).

So, in conclusion, the wardrobe department for this trilogy slaps, the writers were great, Gore Verbisnky is a legend, and I just spent over a literal hour over analyzing the clothing on two fictional pirates in a Disney movie franchise based on a ride.

I love how I said this was gonna be little. Thanks for coming to my TedTalk ya'll. Felt like pictures might do us some good this time and break up the giant walls of text. This has been fun to put together, and I may do an analysis of other characters later, but IDK. I'm trying to outline a new WIP so... we'll see how long that one lasts. I may do an analysis of the costumes from five as they pertain to the original trilogy, but I don't know yet (for reference, I personally don't consider 4 as a main line story. It's like Rogue One is to the Original Star Wars trilogy, it explains a couple plot points for the next movie, but it's not a necessary watch).

[crazylittlejester]

I think we need to give more credit to sky, wars, and twi’s (the big brother trio) gremlin potential. A lot of times theyre written as the dependable, unshakable shoulders to lean on, dragging the younguns back from mischief but!!! Canonically!! Theyre so goofy!!! The heros spirit is full of shenanigans!!! Let them be silly dammit!!! Let them do stupid shit!!! Group chaos, as a treat.

HELL YEAH I AGREE, I’ve written and posted at least one crack fic with these three, but ive got several in my wips

They deserve to be silly and stupid

[jeannereames]

Hello Dr. Reames, and happy holidays. I was wondering if Eurydice I, the mother of Philip, was genuinely involved in the conspiracy against her husband. Was she a woman who wielded significant power in her own right? Additionally, what was the role of Ptolemy of Aloros at court during that time?

So...answering this turned into 10 pages (single-spaced) and I realized I have an article on my hands with something maybe not proposed before. Ergo, I'm going to give a pass on answering in full, but instead point to some prior work on Eurydike that I mentioned in my original opening, as it's not stuff I'd put in the article (except by way of footnotes), plus a short summary on S. Greek views of Macedonian/Illyrian/Epirote women, and a very quick background sketch on Eurydike herself.

The short answer is that nobody much today in Macedonian studies puts any credit on Justin's story about Eurydike as a duplicitous, evil mother. In her write up in the Lexicon, Sabine Müller puts it: "Trogus-Justin's tales about Eurydike as a vicious, murderous, scheming monster to whom a reprehensible trustful, even naive A(myntas) is completely devoted...deserve no credence" ("Amyntas III" LexAM). Although you will sometimes see this stuff recounted when written about by non-specialists, as a lot of the work on the topic has been done in article-form, or books more out of the mainstream.

----

I’ll open by pointing to a book that came out not too long ago and, in paperback, isn’t horribly expensive: Elizabeth D. Carney’s Eurydice and the Birth of Macedonian Power. I’ve recommended it before. It really is the place to start with Eurydike and the rise of Macedon women in the fourth century.

As many of you know, if you’ve been reading me any length of time, if you want to learn about Macedonian women—any of them—start with Beth Carney. In addition to Beth's book Kate Mortensen was the one to examine more carefully the negative stories about Eurydike, but Kate left academia, so her stuff is all earlier. In fact, Beth will cite her work in the monograph, so I don’t want to leave out Kate and her seminal “Eurydice: Demonic or Devoted Mother?” Ancient History Bulletin 6 (1992) 156-71. And of course, Kate was leaping off the work of Helen Macurdy much earlier. We must also note Sabine Müller’s Die Argeaden: Geschichte Makedoniens bis zum Zeitalter Alexanders des Großen (Schöningh Paderborn, 2016), as she discusses it as well there. Finally, William Greenwalt also works in early Argead Macedonia. Although he doesn't have a monograph, his “Amyntas III and the Political Stability of Argead Macedonia,” The Ancient World 18 (1988) 35-44, may be of interest to readers, as well as “Philip II and Olympias on Samothrace: a Clue to Macedonian Politics during the 360s” in Macedonian Legacies: Studies in Ancient Macedonian History and Culture in Honor of Eugene N. Borza, Howe & Reames, eds., Regina 2008, 79-106.

Yet where I want to begin isn’t with Eurydike, but with southern Greek male problems writing about (and understanding) Macedonian/Northern women. Basically, they didn’t “get” them.

Remember that, to southern Greek men, women should be neither seen nor heard. In his funeral speech, Perikles says (Thuc. 2.45.2) “…the greatest (glory) will be hers who is least talked of among the men whether for good or for bad” (Strassler). Even if that speech was made up by Thucydides (in typical Greek literary style), it still reflects what he thought Perikles might have said—and thus, reflects elite southern Greek values. (Thucydides and Perikles came from the same basic “class” in Athenian society: the military elite.) Athenians were among the more repressive societies for women in south Greece, but they still embodied general Greek ideas about women.

And women shouldn’t be involved in politics, dammit!

So, to the southern Greeks, those Meddling Macedonian Women were right up there with Meddling Persian Women—and both were bad, bad girls. (Never mind that especially Persian women were expected to be somewhat involved in politics, apparently….)

A few quick things on Eurydike herself. She belonged to the Lynkestian royal house; Leonnatos was apparently related to her, as was Alexander of Lynkestis. Her father’s name was Sirras, which isn’t a Macedonian name. It’s an Illyrian name. Her mother was the daughter of old King Arrhabaios of Lynkestis, who’d revolted against King Perdikkas II of Macedon—part of what got Brasidas of Sparta involved up there during the Peloponnesian War. Amyntas III had trouble with the Lynkestians as well, and his marriage to Eurydike may have been part of a peace deal.

While there’s no complete agreement that she’s half Illyrian, it’s more often accepted than not. If true, this might explain Eurydike’s tendency to “meddle” in politics. Illyrian women had power, and even fought. Famously, Kynanne learned arms skill from her mother Audata, and then taught her own daughter Hadea Eurydike. It’s really with Eurydike that Macedonian women began to assert themselves directly, rather than just influence brothers, husbands, and sons. Olympias is another example…and she’s from Epiros.

Culturally, Macedonia and Thrace appear to have shared a fair bit. Similarly, with Illyria and Epiros, at least when it came to women. So, it seems to me (and others, starting with Macurdy) that the rise of women’s influence at the court may have come from “outside” Macedonia. Eurydike is interesting as we have TWO quite different traditions about her.

....

And the rest may appear in the future in an article. But this should at least give some kind of answer to the asker. As much as I'd like to share my burgeoning theories, I need to chase down some additional material...and be sure Sabine hasn't beaten me to the punch. LOL

[werezmastarbucks]

4. dogs

pic credit

masterlist

word count: 5120

warnings: animal abuse (dog fighting mentioned. not graphic!!! happy end)

"Dog fighting?!" she yelled, a little louder than she wanted.

"You have got to be kidding me. They can't fall any lower, can they?"

June grabbed at her own braid and pulled.

The man next to her, his build making him look unusually cartoonish, gazed at her.

"Yeah, I guess so. It's just animals, ma'am".

She let her nostrils speak for herself, and he stepped away.

"Get the fuck outta my sight".

"You're in my cell".

She groaned, raising her eyes to the light-green ceiling. Jonas Vetiver, ex-partner of Herman Kozik. Used to run around the Sons before getting in trouble with some rich family in Charming and flying away into Stockton.

The weather was still pleasant when she left the building and headed for her car. Dog-fighting. A great replacement for a porn studio, for sure. There was only one thing she hated more than SAMCRO: animal abuse. She was chewing her lips, trying with her tongue inside her mouth in search for the seams she used to make with her teeth. That Chibs guy had these scars outside his face, and she had two inside, from constantly trying to eat herself.

She got behind the wheel, her mind working, the phone already connecting her with the Captain. At least he agreed that dog fighting ring is completely illegal and non-desirable. Something for her to nibble at. The Sons were finally finding their feet; in the last week they legalized their car services completely and were now the proud owners of Teller-Morrow, a fully official workshop. One of the threads slipped away from her fingers. She didn't beat herself about it; it was like chess. She made a move, then they did. In fact, it's been a long time before they finally managed to make even one. Slow thinking apes. Had to spend a whole month to realize they need to make their shit as legal as possible.

Driving calmed her mind. Last night she had a nightmare. Dogs on her back, their teeth plunging into the back of her neck, drilling through the moist bone and ligament. It made her nauseous with pain. Whole body convulsing. The thought of dogs tearing at each other's throats made her feel the same. She hated it. When. It was animals. Humans, she didn't have a problem with anymore. It's the job. For the longest time, in fact, her job was to look at pictures of mutilated bodies. Genitals maimed, skin torn, eyes bulging. Gentle, young, beautiful women, tortured to death, turned into broken dolls. She had to get used to that.

She all but danced into the station, where Boulder was already expecting her.

"Finally something good, Pallum", he smiled, "it's pretty fresh. They're riding there today to check the premises. Buying the business from someone named Barbie".

"The pretty blonde lawyer?" she asked. She accepted a file from his hand. They walked towards his office and Boulder opened the door for her.

"No, the Romanian crook. Owns a couple of barber shops in the city. As well as underground dog fighting business".

"We'll take him as well. How many people can I have?"

"For today, about ten. If you wait until Monday, maybe twenty".

"Can't wait", she shook her head, perching herself onto the window sill in his office. There was one more person there, sitting on the other side of his desk with a little crossword book. Sergeant Philips. Bag of dicks.

"You are making a run at them again, June?" he asked. Boulder walked around his desk to make a call. She was reading Barbie's information that Boulder had gathered.

"Uh-huh".

"Aren't you afraid that you'll push them too far?"

She knew the man was looking at her. He was a little of Wayne's type, only, times sleezier. Wayne Unser was a dignified old man with his own morals. This idiot walked around the station all day, with his crossword puzzles, giving away useless pieces of advice like they were roofied candy.

She threw her hand up in the air, making Boulder look up.

"God dammit, I thought in a month and a half that I've been here I made it pretty much clear that pushing them too far is the point. I am trying to push them too far".

"And then what?" Philips chewed on air, like an old man with no teeth.

"And then they break", she said quietly.

"Well, aren't you afraid? Do you know what gangs do... to young girls?"

She raised her eyebrows.

"Enlighten me".

Boulder and him exchanged glances. Captain hid his face into the phone.

"Well, they can... there are things worse than death for young women like you..."

She slowly licked her lips feeling the joy of her work flowing in.

"Oh, you mean they'll gang rape me?"

She jumped off the sill, walked around the chair, aiming for the door. She wanted to leave them here, the bubbling knot of idiocy and inefficiency.

"Don't worry, I have a special device installed in my vagina".

Philips was taken aback.

"What... what kind? Can you even do that?"

Captain tried to cover the phone with his hand.

"Yeah, it zips you with electricity. Anybody trying to get there without permission will have his cock burnt to a crisp".

The vision of visceral horror flashed on Sergeant's face.

"Really?"

She let out all air from her lungs. He waited for an answer. Her eyelids felt heavy all of a sudden, she wanted to retunt to bed to her animalistic nightmare.

"Of course not", she snapped, jerking the door, "you fucking idiot".

She got a team of twelve people close to seven o'clock, after a quick surveillance operation. Frankly, surveillance operations in Charming consisted of a couple of cops in civilian clothes going to a place and trying to take some pictures low-key. June hasn't done many busts before. A couple of them here and there. The other agents always did the majority of work and she was more of an observer. But this town seemed exactly the type of place to begin her own active ops.

"This is good preventive work, June", Captain approved, as he gave her a go in the evening. He really liked when she acted like this: made a case and built a preventive operation. They haven't bought the ring yet, so there wouldn't be too much paperwork; they didn't have enough free cages at the station anyway. Plus, the money they got from bails were moved in between three places anyway: SAMCRO, the street gangs, and the police station. It was all the same money.

The feeling of bulletproof vest was nice against her waist; hasn't worn it in years. She rubbed the back of her neck, scratched the dry crust below her ear, courtesy of Telford. She put her hair up and applied two hair claws to keep it in place. July was hot again, and August was going to be ruthless. They were sweating in their equipment even in the evening. No matter how much June didn't regret leaving, she couldn't lie to herself about how nice it felt moving with the team in the shadow of the street, with a gun in her hand. Two officers in front of her, ten behind her. The music, the screams and yells were booming from the building. A conserved can of nightmares. She could hear the squealing of dogs, and her bones rattled unpleasantly with grief.

"When you're ready", officer Mienfield touched her shoulder.

"Let's go", she whispered.

The doors banged open in unison with the police song of aggressive screaming. People inside were blinking in the light of their powerful torches with which the police was trying to blind them. They crawled in two different directions like ants, avoiding the immediate rain of bullets.

Officers were shooting into the ceiling and directly at some of the people, barking orders.

Dogs panicked in the ring and one of the two jumped over the ropes. The second one was left lying there, its sides moving up and down heavily, blood on the ribs pulling on the skin.

June made a shot just above a man's shoulder, provoking him to twitch and lower his gun.

"On the ground!" she shouted. In two steps she reached him and, without aiming, kicked at his hand, initiating a yell of pain. The gun slid to the side. She ran after the dog that was scurrying away in fear. Jumping over people, all the commotion, she was trying not to lose the sight of it's hurrying butt, but the dog was dark and got lost in the movement.

"Shit", she kept running, bumping into people, leaving the action behind. Someone was running parallel to her.

"I'll cut him off, go to the left!"

She took the left without thinking. She recognized the voice. Pushing through the door, she found herself in a hollow corridor and kept going. Soon, she heard the rustling sound of dog steps, the thing panting, and finally reached it as it was stumbling in the corner at the closed door in the end of the building. Alex Tig was approaching them, his hands empty, from the other side.

"Shhh, good boy", he muttered, standing his shoulder next to hers.

"You think it's a boy or a girl?"

"I think it's scared", June said. They stepped a little closer, and the dog started grumbling, its tail between legs.

"It's okay, baby", she whispered and opened her palms. She slid onto her knees. Tig stood behind her back and also squatted, not sure what exactly he has to do.

"Don't let it bite yourself", he mumbled.

"Shh..."

Her hand reached for the dog. It was a standard pitbull, the long suffering fighting dog. It showed its teeth, and the back of her neck ached with phantom wound. She managed to touch its nose with the tips of her fingers, and let it rest. The pit stopped growling and sniffed.

"Careful", Tig murmured. "Hey, baby, you want a hug?"

June moved towards the dog, put her hand on its head. Tig sighed, so happily that she couldn't stop herself from taking a look.

"There's a second one left in the ring", she told him.

"Yes, I will take both of them".

June put her arms around the dog's neck.

"And make them fight again? Not gonna happen".

"For the record, I was against this idea. I believe that it's completely wrong".

His eyes were like two birght marbles. This man had a very interesting appearance. All colorful, there was something turquoise about his skin and the big nose. Pitch-black beard and a musketeer mustache.

"Tig!" someone yelled.

"Calm them down", June snarled. Tig jumped up and went to meet them.

She stayed with the dog that was placing feverish wet kisses to her cheek. The thing was incredibly scared. Its shoulder bleeding. It was shaking, probably pumped with drugs. Her walkie-talkie came alive:

"June? Where are you?"

"I am with the dog in the back. Do you have them?" she asked, freeing one hand from caressing the dog.

"We have all Sons here and Barbie's, ugh, three people. Several bolted, but we have reported their cars".

"Alright. Call animal control, will you? We need vets for the dogs".

"Will do".

She tried lifting up the pit, but it became nervous and started fidgeting. Tig returned, with Happy.

"Oh shit, I am not dealing with that", Happy snapped, upon seeing her.

"I am not specifically after you tonight", she explained. All mellow about the animal, she couldn't even get it fired up for them. She felt nothing.

"Help me carry it. He's too heavy for me".

"Sure".

For a second there they were partners, understanding each other without words. Tig stepped to her and took the dog gently from her hands, whispering something to it.

"I am so going to adopt you, my love", he said. June walked next to him as they three returned back into the main hall with the ring. Some people were sitting next to the second dog, tending to its wounds. June clenched her eyes onto it, unable to breathe for a couple of seconds. Then, finally, a welcome distraction. Officer Laney found her and started reporting into her ear:

"Sons there, four of them, not counting these two, but we're not arresting them tonight, are we?"

She looked at Jackson Teller, Clay, Telford and Juan Ortiz on the floor, their hands at their heads, and her heart felt a little less heavy. Chibs raised his eyes and met hers, and she couldn't hold back a smile.

"No, but let them chill out there for a minute. Where's Barbie?"

"There".

She was led to the group of people standing by the wall with their backs to her.

"Cristian Radu", she called. A heavy-built man with snow-white hair turned to her.

"Cuffs off", she ordered. Hatred boiling in her again, finally some emotion she recognized. It was like being at home where you knew location of each piece of furniture. The boys hesitated a little but obeyed her nod and finally took the handcuffs off Barbie's hands.

"Heard your daughter started a school shooting", she said. Barbie's face twitched. His daughter released a bullet into her temple after shooting down three of her classmates last year.

"Wound still fresh? Or do I need to push somewhere else?"

Radu sniffed through his nose.

"I didn't see your badge".

"And you won't see one. Just like your girl. The only thing she'll see is..."

He charged. June lifted her gun and shot him in the head.

The bang thundered in the silence of the room. Echo slipped into the street and dissolved. His heavy body slopped on the floor between her and the wall. His partners were turning their heads to see, cursing under their breaths.

Laney let out a light sigh like his soul left his body.

"Ugh, June?"

"He was going to attack me, didn't you see?" she said. The back of her neck stopped aching. She turned around.

"Book the rest of them", she said coldly. The warm gun went back into the holster and she let her hands rest in the folds on her vest. She wanted to leave here.

"What about them?" someone asked as she was passing the four SAMCRO members on the floor. The officers were still keeping them at target, tense. She looked down at Jackson's blonde back of the head.

"Let them go. They lost a business today, right, boys?"

She couldn't deprive herself of the pleasure. She watched them stand up, jerking about in their jackets, running hands through the hair. She looked through Morrow, met Jackson's gaze.

"How you gonna press us about it if you killed our seller?" he asked, his voice full of poison. She shrugged.

"I usually make it up as I go", she smiled. Morrow approached and loomed over her, studying her face. He was breathing through his mouth like an animal.

"Juno", he said simply. Her whole body shuddered. She took in his face, half-covered by the shadow, and all sounds disappeared.

They moved around her like ghosts. Her eyes were dry, full of visions. Of ghosts, dogs and shadows. She stumbled out into the open, not feeling someone's hand on her back. Congratulating her. Her lips were stinging from all the biting. The hair, the vest, were too hot. She took off the jacket with jerk movements, failing to notice her surrounding. Failing to notice how she was being observed.

Gym, vitamins, city.

She took one day off after the dog debuckle and went to see the summer fireworks. Wandering among people, she felt the cold in waves coming off of them. She didn't like the crowds, and the laughter of the children in the park made her irritated. She'd come home at night, listening to the white chats singing heavenly behind the house. In the shower, she rubbed her body until it squeaked. Sometimes until she drew blood. Opening up all fresh cuts, crust gone, off the body. The roots of her hair called for mercy so she poured rosemary oil onto them. She kept the doors open before her sleep, to let the bird song and air in.

At night, with all the windows open, she still had nightmares. Of how she's crawling up the waterfall, cubes of water falling onto her head, waterboarding her. Her nails break on the stony ground as she tries to clutch onto it. Blood washed away immediately, but she can feel the pain from exposed flesh on the tips of her fingers. In the end of the dream she wants to let go so badly. She should just let go. But she can't. Disobeying hands will lead her to die. Maybe she wants to die. Doesn't want to wait for the end of the waterfall.

Another ride to prison, and she decided she wanted to change her car. She just suddenly got very tired of the color. There were so many cherry-red cars in Charming! Something about their infatuation with the red.

She put on her sunglasses, pleased with the amount of papers in her thick file that was resting on the passenger seat. She was copying everything into her IPad as well, just in case. She looked up at the sky, where the sun was being boarded up by the onsetting black clouds. Out in the open, on the verge of a desert, the sky was great and big, stretching to the end of the valley. Mountains lay ahead, and then, Charming. She looked at her wristwatch and realized she had been drowning for a long time. Because the thought of a matcha almost brought her to tears. The simple human joy of a sweet drink, like she was usual. Just normal.

She started the car, hoping the rain would come and catch her on the road. She liked the sudden cool of the storm after the blazing sun.

About twenty minutes into the ride she heard the familiar, rage inducing sound above the music. On the two sides of her, mountains, green and yellow, were marred with the expectation of the shitstorm. The set off of the clouds itself, that spared Charming of a thunderstorm, should have been a bad sign. The mayhem continues. She saw the first of their bikes in the rearview mirror, and rolled her eyes. She pushed the gas further, trying to lose them, but the two of them already were at the heels of her car. Maybe they wanted to play.

She continued driving, although she couldn't enjoy the music anymore. With one hand, she took the file and, trying to keep her eyes on the road, pushed it into the bag, then sending it to the seat behind. Then checked if her neck felt tense; not today, she slept for a good three hours, and the lack of sleep was usually better for her than six hours.

The long honk blocked out all other sounds, making her head swirl. It was then joined by the others, the cavalcade of noise drained into the car and made her roll up all windows. Still, it was too noisy.

"Oh my god", it was still a good ten miles to the city, and she couldn't ride them all with this. She swerved the wheel, spooking one bike that was guarding her on the left, making him take a sharp left, too. It was Happy, from what she could gather.

"Fuck off!" she yelled, to no avail. The honking only became louder. She was hunted by the murder of black bikes, her little asphalt cherry moving its small wheels to the best of its ability. For the scare, there was retaliation. Someone slammed into the passenger door and jumped back, making her twitch. She kept the car stable and straight. Honking continued.

"I'll kill all of you beer goblins!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, thinking about her gun. No, that surely would be too much. She pushed the gas pedal into the floor, and her car groaned with effort. They surrounded her effortlessly, two on the sides, one directly in front of the car. From the back, she couldn't tell which one it was particularly. They were all indistinguishable in their helmets, black glasses and black leather jackets. The road was roaring below, the car sliding on the hot asphalt. It was a moment before she saw the turn when she realized what they were doing. June only managed to take off her glasses on time and put both her hands on the wheel as her foot changed the pedal and pushed the breaks. Overworked Chevy screeched and wheezed, and the the world tipped. June pressed herself into the seat, thinking that it was not time to die after all. Not to these gremlins, not today. As the car stumbled down the hill, she turned her head slightly away so that the airbag wouldn't break her nose.

Chibs pushed the breaks and let the bike slide a little, catching the asphalt with one foot. For a moment eveything was wrapped into smoke and dust as they all haulted to a break at the edge.

"Bloody Christ", he uttered, taking off his helmet with a jerk. He didn't know where to turn first. In front of him, Juice was trying to pull his bike from off the edge.

"Help!" he yelled, and Chibs bit the tip of his tongue so hard it almost bled.

Someone ran up to him, and they pulled on the butt of the bike together.

He slammed his helmet onto the handlebars and got off.

"The fuck you were doing?!"

They were slowly gathering at the edge, on the curve of the turn, as the dust setlled. There was a trail of broken saplings and trees where cherry Chevy fell down. In a second, Happy was at his shoulder.

"Accident", said Bobby, "just an accident. She coulnd't make the turn".

Jackie ran up to them and also looked down. He was undecided. The noise of the car finally stopped. Everybody was silent for some time as they waited for his word. Chibs turned to him and looked him directly in the face.

"They usually panic and stop at the edge of the road, not dive down", he muttered. Chibs clicked his teeth and went back to his bike. His heart was pounding, thanks to the heat also.

"Go check if she's alive", Jax said finally. Kozik and Happy looked at each other and then started the descent. Jax was standing where the Chevy was a minute ago, the hands on his hips. This is a mess, Chibs thought. Something devious is going on with her, and now he might never find out.

June struggled against the slowly deflating air bag. Her neck stung sharply, but she moved her head and checked if she still sees the picture in front of her, and concluded that she was alive. If she blacked out, then only for a couple of seconds, on the impact. Her brain was turning back on again, hands already clusping on the belt. It gut stuck. She took out the knife from the harness and cut it. The eyes haven't adjusted yet, and her ears were even worse. She only then realized that the music was still playing. Enraged, she stabbed the audio system and made it go dark. Her phone was somewhere on the floor, and she felt for it hurriedly. As she bowed down, she nearly vomited and had to sit up again. Slowly, gradually, she moved her body, checking every joint. All hurt, and yet nothing was broken. The belt, and the bag embraced her in a tight caccoon that saved her completely. June tried the door and found it jammed. She stretched her back, tried her arms, then reached for the headrest and pulled it out. She knew they were coming. She should be more careful with her wishes, because they tend to manifest pretty quickly. Malibu was totaled.

She broke the window and kicked it out of the frame, then hauled herself out, meeting the ground head first. She even threw up a little, but, pushing this mass out of her throat made her vision and mind much clearer. Finally, her body recuperated and was ready to move. Back to force again.

June crawled around the car, trying to hear if they're coming from down the hill. Thickets around presented and agreeable hideout, so she aimed for the bushes of rowan. As soon as she quietened down, knife in her sweaty hand, she heard the voices and crackling of branches. Heavy steps. Two heads, one bald, the other, blonde. Kozik and Happy, big bafoons. She retreated further but stumbled upon a stump. Thankfully, they were speaking too loudly to each other.

"Shit. Can you believe this?"

"Oh my god. What is she?"

"She broke the window here".

The two bikers looked around, scanning the clearing.

"She must be here somewhere".

"So, what?"

"If she's alive, she's gonna report it. She has to".

The grim understanding lay in between them. Kozik took out the gun, his leather jacket squeaked.

They stepped away from each other and separated. Happy went directly for the rowan where June perched herself onto the stump. Moving further back was impossible because of the thickness of vegetation. She took a breath to stop producing all sound. Her heart slowing down. She moved the knife into the other hand and wiped the palm on her jeans. Happy circled the clearing and moved the branches away, crooking his neck.

"You got anything?" yelled Kozik.

"Not yet".

June moved. Happy turned around to face his friend, and she jumped. Her knife flying up, and then down, digging the trailing tip between the third and the fourth vertebra. Happy produced a hollow sound, resembling a question: huh? And fell silent. His body moving almost like a zombie. June got on his back and wrapped her legs around his wide waist. Immediately the shots fired. She crunched behind his shoulder for cover, guiding Happy with the knife. He swayed left and right, losing balance. In about a second he would fall. With one foot, she pushed them both against the springy branches of rowan as Kozik kept firing, all shots flying into Happy's chest. Then she pushed again, removing the blade, and raced for the bushes. Move legs up, ankles sharp, following the rule. Body tilted slightly forward so that the movement of air doesn't slow you down. Shots, like barking, were fying into her back, but she was moving in zig zags, eyes on the ground. Roots, saplings and flowers were outstretching their limbs towards her. The shouting started. They heard the gun and all rushed down the hill to help catch and kill her. But June was trained for this. Moving precisely, carefully. She made around half a mile at once, without a stop, before her feet finally gave in and a root caught her ankle. She opened her palm and released the blade not to stab herself upon the fall. The phone almost breaking her hip as she landed. Should've put it into her back pocket. Something sharp and hot stung her calf, and she rested for a little, listening. There was distant shouting in the forest. Distinct Scottish growl. By the sound of it, they weren't following her. Juno, Juno, she thought. You got it, girl. My sweet girl, she thought. How she wished to hear that from someone. You'll make it, and you're gonna win, my good girl Juno. She pushed herself up against the ground and lay on her back a little, watching the sky. This ain't the dog test.

She found her way out of the forest by the evening. Well, the evening being around two hours from then. The sun was going down when she finally noticed the clearing between the trees. By that time, her leg was aching uncontrollably, and all her face was incredibly dry. She lost the knife but kept the phone, which was guiding her out of the thickets, but even the maps didn't help much. It was all just a green blob. She made the last powerful attempt and climbed up the hill, grabbing at roots and thorny flowers, and sliding on dry ground. Her hurt leg almost gave out but she pushed herself onto the edge of the road and her face was flooded with red and blue immediately.

"June!" someone screamed. She dismissed them with her hand, too tired. People were running towards her. Sirens went silent at the same moment, and some hands helped her up. She probably looked roughed up, because the faces staring at her were horrified.

"Water", she said shortly, pushing the hands away, heading for the ambulance. She limped up, waving at paramedics, the only people she was happy to see. The others were following her silently with their hands outstretched, ready to catch her. She finally saw Boulder's face. He was panting.

"June!"

She waved at him, too.

"Totaled my car", she breathed.

"Yes, we found it".

He helped her up the ambulance car, and she heaved herself onto the steps.

"My leg's infected", she said to a nurse who immediately bowed down to inspect it. Someone passed her a bottle of water, and she thanked them. Sergeant Philips together with Laney were standing aside, looking at a phone and throwing glances at her.

"I killed one of them", she said.

"I know", Boulder repeated. "We've been looking for you the whole day. What exactly happened?"

"They ran me off the road".

"Did you see specifically who?"

She shook her head, mouth full of water. Tapped her face with wet palms.

"We're taking you to the hospital", the nurse told her.

"No!" June yelled. The girl looked at her, eyes wide open.

"They will try to finish me off..."

"They won't June", Boulder said softly. "Teller came to the station today. Told us everything. They refused to give the name of the one who directly pushed you off, but they said it was more of an accident".

June grimaced. Boulder moved his mouth around showing he understands.

"Yeah. But he said they won't pursue it. We count it as attempted murder of an FBI agent nevertheless".

"BAU agent", she sighed. Whole body ached, she probably needed a drip. She allowed herself into the hands of the nurse and closed her eyes. Eyeballs still moving. She couldn't switch off.

@fallout-girl219