#edit: his daring was just higher this time so when he grabbed the gun he just Did It

[swordtit]

i just got a negative 3 percent relationship with mortum just now

[themerc]

more headcanons

Because I should be editing a chapter and I'm not feeling like it. And because I promised a new headcanon for each headcanon reply/reblog my last one sparked. I think I got two so here goes:

Bond's favourite things about Q

Competence. And being aware of it without succumbing to overconfident arrogance. Bond is endlessly fascinated by Q's witty banter and seemingly flippant quips, but recognises them as the more lighthearted front Q puts up not to appear as deadly serious as his job really makes him. Q enjoys his work, especially seeing his gadgets in action - but he is also intimately familiar with the flipside of it. Q cares deeply, gives 110% of himself whenever the situation calls for it, and knows he can do much -- but he's not omnipotent. It lends Q's humor and the little digs he takes at him and other agents a peculiar, deeper, darker undercurrent. It draws Bond in for the challenge like a moth to a flame.

Reliability. Q has been the one unwavering supporter and the constant he returns to since they came to know each other. Having that means more to Bond than he's willing to admit even to himself.

Intelligence. It's probably just another expression of his freely admitted competence kink, but such brilliant intelligence is just. Damn sexy. Bond doesn't consider himself slow by any standards, but he can't follow Q's quick thinking half of the time. He takes it as a challenge as well -- one that he very much enjoys.

Q's voice. This one probably should be higher up on his list, because that voice echoing inside his skull hours after his first mission with Q in his ear was the thing that first made him realise - oh.

The eyes. Aren't they always, though, for everyone? But no - not like Q's. Bond is captivated by the beauty and intensity and the changing sea-shade colours, because he likes beautiful people. And Q, especially stripped of all his work-enforced layers -- what he wears, how he speaks, the way he carries himself -- is achingly beautiful. He knows he's privileged to witness it sometimes. Those eyes, they bring him to life when Q looks at him like that. Sometimes, they are the knives that cut through his very soul. So expressive that staring into the bottomless pit of darkness that Q also carries inside of himself hurts worse than any physical wound he's suffered. It was Q's eyes after a mission that cost them the life of a rookie agent that told Bond that they are much more alike than he'd assumed in the beginning. He still isn't quite sure if he likes that idea or not.

Physicality. For his rather slight build, Q's physical presence can be very ... convincing. Bond's seen him handle weapons. Had felt it, up close and personal, when Q stepped right into his personal space and grabbed the semiautomatic rifle out of his curious hands, before proceeding to sit him in a chair and shoot him in the wrist with the Smart Blood gun. And many times since. Q's hands are always firm and soothing, delicate without a trace of weakness. He's come to crave the touch.

Kindness. Bond can admit that at least half of his attraction to any person ever has always been physical. But kindness isn't something he's ever experienced much, at least not since his mother died. Q is so very kind, despite all appearances to the contrary at times. He's considerate and mindful of others' needs when he's not completely immersed in some dire situation requiring that 110% of him. On one cold and miserable night in early December, he'd returned to London once more, and found himself at Q's doorstep thinking of suitable apologies. Q just let him inside, took his sodden overcoat and no questions asked, wrapped him in a warm hug. He'd wanted it to last forever. He wouldn't dare call it unconditional love - not in that moment at least - but it was a gift bestowed on someone very much undeserving.

There was going to be Q's list on Bond as well, but... maybe another time after I've actually slept.

[amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes]

Toy Box

AN: This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Two Years of Darkness challenge. My prompt is Mob!AU you wonder about your bf/gf's late nights and the answer surprises you and my character is Bucky. I took a friendship route to the gf and not romantic and this went from Bucky to an add on. This is a little late but I changed the story and characters last minute; I apologize. Not beta’d so all mistakes are my own. My character is written with a WOC in mind but all read. Please don’t repost my work without my expressed permission 🗣🗣🗣

Warnings: ‼️NON-CON‼️, allusions to prostitution, voyeurism, unwanted groping, slight gun play, violence(the gun is discharged), threesome? four-way? IDK how to classify it. Proceed with caution and do not read if the subject matter offends you. 

Pairing: Officially? Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,121

~~~~~

“Hey, what are you doing to make all this extra money?”

Sabrina, your roommate, gave you a weary look as you hesitated by the large double doors. The sounds of the busy street unnerved you but you wanted to do this. Besides, if Sabrina could do it, why couldn’t you? While she had been quite cryptic in telling you what her part-time job duties are, you trusted Sabrina. She'd been your roommate and best friend for years and you had all confidence in her. 

"You really wanna know?" The uncertainty in her voice went ignored. You placed your hands on your hips and tsked. She avoided your pointed glare. Secrets were never kept between the two of you; you both knew everything about each other so to think she was holding something from you was offensive. 

"Girl, yes. I wanna know how you go from not being able to pay your half of the rent to now covering my half. What's the deal?"

After nearly an hour of guilt tripping her, Sabrina finally caved and told you she was working for "some hotel in guest services and entertainment". When you pressed her for a better explanation, she just shrugged and asked if you wanted to meet her boss and get the job description from her. While you may not have skills to be an entertainer, surely they had a position at the front desk you could do. That night you happily edited your resume and dreamt of all the things you could do with the extra money; pay off a bill or two and save for that vacation you so desperately need.  

"You ready?" A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality. Of all places, you didn't expect her to bring you to the Hotel Cortez. The Cortez was well known as one of two hives for the new crime syndicate that took over the town a few years back. You'd only half paid attention to the news articles as they listed the main culprits: James Barnes, and Carol "The Captain" Danvers. The two of them wreaked havoc on the town and had nearly the entire police force in their back pocket. You’d been lucky enough to not cross paths with them or their associates, hearing that once you get tangled with them, you’re stuck.  

Humming a response to her, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. It wasn't like you're doing anything illegal, you’d be so far down the ladder that the worst that could happen to you was you get fired. At least you still had your full time job to fall back on. Placing your hand on the handle, you shift your portfolio and push open the large glass doors. Red and gold carpet covers the lobby floor and high crystal chandeliers illuminate the area in a dreamlike glow; a true juxtaposition to what you believed it would look like. Standing in the middle of the lobby, you gawk at the red velvet chairs that look like mini thrones rather than chairs. You feel out of place and severely under-dressed with your black maxi skirt and white shirt. 

“They’re ready for you, Ruby. Go on up.” You startle and turn towards the feminine voice. Behind a desk you didn't even notice, a blonde woman in a fitted white dress smiles at you. Sabrina mumbles her thanks and hooks her arms in yours, dragging you to the opposite side of the desk. Frowning, you turn to Sabrina when you stop in front of an elevator. 

“Who the hell is Ruby?”

“Me.” her eyes never leave the floor indicator, the numbers counting down. Clearing her throat, she shrugs. “They give us nicknames here, you don’t use your real name.”

“Why?” The elevator dings and slides open. Still hooked with you, Sabrina pulls you into the elevator and presses floor 21. You turn to her with your arms crossed. She avoids your glare and sighs. 

“It's not too late to turn around.” You tilt your head in confusion at her. Before you can ask for clarification, the elevator dings and the door opens. Again you are taken aback at the decor of the room. You were expecting an office, not a large gray sofa and matching chair on a white rug nor the ceiling to floor windows that made the walls. The rest of the floor was hardwood and more gray chairs scattered about. Tall white vases of varying bouquets of flowers sat on matching gray tables and a small chandelier casts a soft glow. Sabrina let you go and walked further into the room. You stood awkwardly a few feet from the elevator, too nervous to move in fear of breaking something. 

 A call of your name beckons you to move. You hear voices and as you exit the foyer, you get a better view of the room. More gray furniture decorate the room and to the far left of the room, a large L shaped desk with matching cabinets. A woman is perched on the corner of the desk, her short black dress raised over her long legs as she giggles at a blonde woman behind the desk. In a chair to their right, a man sits with a glass and watches you as you stop next to Sabrina. The woman behind the desk stands and moves toward you. Swallowing hard, your resolve falters when you recognize her. Carol Danvers. You weren’t expecting to see any of the bosses and seeing her up close is daunting. Her presence is authoritative as she strides towards you, her tailored black suit as unwavering as her gaze.

“This her?” the woman on the desk glances at Sabrina before raking her eyes slowly down your body. Carol hums as she paces around you, the action making you uneasy. 

"She's cute. What do you think, Barnes?"

Your anxiety spikes as you realize that both of the mob bosses are within arms reach of you and staring you down. Sabrina elbows you in the ribs and clears her throat as she introduces you. You plaster your best smile and hand your portfolio to Carol. She takes it from you and as you are about to speak, she tosses it to the woman still on the desk. 

"How adorable is this? She brought a resume." Her teasing making you frown. You reach for your portfolio but she pulls back and sticks out her tongue with a wink. 

"Maria," Carol playfully chides. "Don't give the new girl a hard time. Test her, James." 

He hums from his seat and placed his glass on the table. You clear your throat and begin to list off your work experience, his hand reaches to his belt and unfastens it. You pause and turn to Sabrina again who shrugs. Carol resumes her place next to Maria and places a hand on her thigh. Your eyes bounce between the women before falling back to James who is in the process of opening his fly. 

"You know what? Maybe this position isn't for me." You attempt to sound braver than you feel but your voice comes out small. "Thank you for the opportunity, we're leaving." Taking a step back, you turn fully to Sabrina who is looking at the floor and you grab her wrist. 

Maria giggles as Carol's hand creeps under the hem of her dress. You attempt to pull Sabrina but she doesn't move. You look at her incredulously as James stands with a deep sigh. Your flight or fight instinct kicks in and you drop her wrist. Right as you are about to run, a strong grip on the back of your neck pulls you back and you collide with warm flesh. You scream and attempt to twist away from  the strong hand holding you but the hand moves from your neck to your hair and pushes you down. 

“Ruby, you didn’t tell her, did you?” James asks but Sabrina stays quiet. He steps into your peripheral and turns your head towards him, the strain on your neck painful. "She's my little toy. And sometimes I lend my toys for others to play. Get it?" 

You reach back and grab his wrist in an attempt to release some of the pressure from your scalp but his hold is ironclad. His hand disappears into his pants and you cringe as he pulls his cock out and taps it against your bottom lip. You grind your teeth as he taps again on lip and sighs after a moment. His grip on your hair tightens and you gasp at the pain. 

"Come on, I don't have all day." His bored tone is offensive and you glare up at him. You purse your lips together in defiance and Maria laughs. 

"Love the fight in her, Ruby. But I want a show." Maria faux pouts as Carol's fingers work their way higher and Maria spreads her legs to allow her access. "Talk to your friend." 

You glance up at Sabrina who is fidgeting and still avoiding eye contact. She sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. "Just do it and get it over with. You're being dramatic." 

"Dramatic?!" You shriek and attempt to twist in his hold to face her but he spins you around and uses the momentum to force himself into your mouth. You gag around him and jerk your head back but you are unable to maneuver away from him. You grunt in frustration and as you're about to bring your canines down full force on him, cool metal presses against your temple. 

"Bite me and I'll blow your fucking brains out." His warning freezes all movement from you. Your eyes water as he slides the metal from your temple to your line of sight and you look down the barrel of his gun. Saliva gathers at the corners of your mouth as you hold him there, not daring to move. He taps the gun twice on your forehead before he tsks. Quicker than you can register, he releases his hold on your hair and the pressure from the gun is moved. You jerk away from him as a loud pop reverberates the room. You scream and cower on the floor as Sabrina drops to the floor near you. She's crying and holding her arm, blood seeping through her fingers. Carol laughs as you scream again and reach for her but a click near your ear draws your attention back to the man in front of you. 

"Consider that a warning. Hurry. Up." The gun returns to your head but the metal is now hot and burns your skin. You shake your head, taking one last glance at Sabrina who returns your gaze with watery eyes. Sitting up on your knees, you reach for him with trembling hands. He's warm to the touch and the feel of him twitching against your fingers almost has you reeling. His hand returns to your hair though he doesn't grip this time. Closing your eyes, you give him a few tentative strokes before you slowly ease him into your mouth. 

"Good girl. Show us what you can do." Maria purrs and Carol hums. You brace a hand on his thigh and try to recall every porn movie you've ever seen.  Hollowing your cheeks, you push him as far as you can and attempt not to gag as he brushes the back of your throat. A deep moan rumbles through his chest when you bring your other hand to his base and twist your wrist to mimic the movement of your mouth. A whimper behind you makes you speed up; you may have been upset with Sabrina but you didn't want her to bleed out. Maria moans loudly and for a moment you can simultaneously hear the sound of her being fingered with your slurping noises. 

"Keep going." You aren't sure who gave the soft command but you respond by flattening your tongue in an effort to stifle your gag reflex so you can take him deeper. It must work because you hear him hiss and he bucks his hips involuntarily showing him deeper down your throat. Unprepared for the invasion, you try to pull back but the hand on your head locks you in place. Your nails dig into his leg as you try not to panic because you can't draw in a breath. He holds you for a few seconds before the hand on your head reimplants in your hair and pulls you backwards. You fall on your backside as you cough. You turn to check on Sabrina who has gone quiet. She's curled up in a ball and as you reach for her, you're once again pulled back. A soft hand caresses your cheek and it takes a second that it's Carol, not James, who has you this time. 

"Maria, baby. Assume the position. Show the new girl how it's done." Maria hops off the desk and moves to the side of the chair James was sitting in. Carol hoists you up by the arm and stands you on the opposite side of the chair. "Go on honey." At Carol's order, Maria lifts her dress and bends over the arm of the chair with her hands clasped in front of her over the sitting cushion. She wiggles her hips and licks her lips, eyes never leaving yours. You are about to protest when strong hands push you to bend forward, the arm of the chair hitting you roughly in the stomach. You groan in pain and try to squirm away but your hands are held in front of you by Maria. She intertwines your fingers with hers and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Let's see what's under the hood, hm?" Carol mumbled before your skirt is lifted and bunched at your waist. You made to protest but another shove forward had you hitting your stomach again and the pain stunned you into compliance. Nimble fingers danced along your panty line and when they reached the crotch, the fabric was ripped away. Her strength and actions shocked you as she brushed along your inner thigh. Tears fill your eyes as she reaches your outer lips and spreads them with her thumb and index finger. You feel her circle around your entrance before ghosting down to your clit. You hear her chuckle and shame fills you and you know what she fills. 

"Oh you'll like this one, James. She's soaked and just from sucking dick? She'll be a good earner." You try to hide your face as she slips a finger inside of you and then another before abruptly pulling out. From your place on your arm, you see Carol's shiny black shoes move away from you and you peek up to see her stand behind Maria. Carol places the fingers that were inside of you on Maria's lips and you watch as Maria suckles on them. 

You lower your head in embarrassment when your feet are kicked apart and strong hands grip your waist. You protest by trying to stand again but once again you are pushed into the arm of the chair and the wind is knocked from you. 

"Same time?" Carol asks, amusement lacing her tone. Maria holds you tighter as you feel James step closer to you, the head of his cock poised at your entrance. You try to wiggle away from him but he takes another step forward and pushes further into you. Tears stream freely down your face as Maria rolls her hips, Carol slowly fucking her with her fingers. Maria leans forward and places a gentle kiss on your lips. James pushes further into you and you gasp; Maria taking the opportunity to shove her tongue in your mouth. She swallows your pained grunt when James thrusts into you without warning. He gives you no time to adjust to his size before he sets a brutal pace. Every push of his hips sends your abdomen further into the arm of the chair and you don't know what to focus on: the pain, the woman in front of you, your friend bleeding on the floor or the man behind you. Maria releases one of your hands and snakes her free hand down the front of your blouse. You twist away from her roaming hand as she slips under your bra to squeeze your breast. 

"Please, stop." You beg to no one in particular but hope they all would stop. Your request is met with a breathy laugh from Carol who's pumping her fingers faster into Maria in an attempt to match James speed. The legs of the chair protest under your combined weight and the force of the man thrusting behind you. His hand finds the small of your back and forces you to arch; the new position causes you to moan subconsciously.

"Oh, there's her sweet spot. Do it again."  Maria begs, her tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. He obliges and your body unwillingly comes alive. He pushes you down further and you grab the chair cushion for purchase. Maria kisses you again and in your haze you return the kiss which earns a moan from Carol, her hand moving at an unnatural speed. James plunges into you at the same brutal pace and you can feel your arousal. You know he can feel it too because his breathing is becoming labored and his hold on your hip is bruising. 

"Bad girl, Ruby. Keeping your friend away from us." James' voice is strained and you're surprised how he can speak and breathe at the same time. A whimper is his response; you can't look at your friend right now as a string of curses fall from your lips. Your orgasm hits you unexpectedly and you babble incoherently as his pace never falters. Maria kisses your nose and shushes you as writhe under him. A few more pointed thrusts has you falling into another orgasm and this time you gush over him. Maria whines as she throws her head back and you watch her, too blissed out to look away. James hips sputter and he abruptly pulls out of you which makes you wince. One hand is still on your hip and he groans low above you, warmth hitting the back of your thighs. The room is filled with heavy breathing before you feel your legs give out from under you. You slide to your knees and rest your head against the chair. The sound of liquid pouring has you tilting your head back as James pours himself a drink. His eyes connect with yours and he brings the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp. 

"Welcome to the toy box, Carnelian."

Not tagging a lot of people just in case this isn’t your thing: @avintagekiss24 @sapphirescrolls @marvelmaree @titty-teetee @angrythingstarlight

[themadauthorshatter]

... This is going to be more triggering than my Sanders Sides Beetlejuice AU, and I deeply apologize.

This is a Happy Tree Friends story I've thought about and it got inspired by a scene in the Asylum season of American Horror Story.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR PTSD, AVERSION THERAPY, FORCED/DELIBERATE TRIGGERING OF PTSD AND HALLUCINATIONS, ISOLATION, BEING HELD CAPTIVE/HOSTAGE, ANIMAL DEATH, AND A LOT OF OTHER THINGS!!!!

PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

Additional note: I'm visualizing the characters as human, so don'tbe caught off guard when I bring up a character's hair or complexion. It makes this story easier for me to picture in my head, that's just how I work. And this is mostly TV perspective, so thought I'd tell you that, too.

We begin with the sun rising and a new day starting, how lovely. No one is fully awake, but two people are and they are having a race.

Who's against who?

Simple.

It's Flippy on his feet and Splendid in the air to see who's faster on which and they're neck and neck in this.

Flippy sees Splendid next to him and asks if he's holding back, because this is not the fastest Flippy can run.

Splendid jokes that maybe it is because this is the SLOWEST he's flown in a long time.

Flippy laughs and kicks it into maximum overdrive, full on sprinting as fast as he can, even faking a turn to throw Splendid off his flight. While he stays on his intended path, and shouts that Splendid fell for it, Splendid calls him a cheating bastard.

Flippy laughs and contunues sprinting until he stops on a sidewalk in the town.

How lovely because Splendid is sitting on the wood of one of the telephone poles and waves at him.

Flippy pants and asks how Splendid both beat him and got up there.

Splendid simply floats down and claims it's just a hop, skip, and leap of faith.

And no cheating, which he points out.

Flippy clarifies that he actually DID NOT cheat. He would've gotten some of kryptonut and put it in his pocket, if he really wanted to.

Splendid gasps that he wouldn't, but Flippy shrugs and says he knows a guy, so don't tempt him.

The two share a laugh, but Flippy freezes as he hears a nearby woodpecker.

Splendid spots it and comments on the lovely avian specimen.

That's when a knife is thrown and (TV perspective) off screen kills the bird.

Splendid sees Flippy threw it and has 'killer instinct' eyes.

Thank goodness it's just them and there's no one else around because just as Flippy readies another knife, Splendid grabs him and flies to a hill, fast enough to get there within a minute or so, but not so fast that Flippy dies from the velocity.

It snowed a little bit, but it's enough for Splendid to toss Flippy into.

The cold instantly snaps him out of it and Flippy quickly looks around and asks where they are.

Splendid shrugs and answers the hill, and the realization sets in as Flippy's face drops, groaning and putting his hands over his face.

Splendid sits next to him as Flippy asks if 'it' happened again.

It did, but there was no one outside, so at least it got stopped before anyone got hurt.

Flippy is still crestfallen and rests his head on his arms, which are on his knees.

Splendid asks if he really can't control when he flips out, and Flippy confirms that as much as he can, but he still can't, mainly because when he feels like there's nothing to worry about, he remembers how he got comfortable and confident before and it ruined everything.

And he can't control the world or what randomly happens.

If his instincts say he's in danger, he's using thise same instuncts to keep himself safe.

Splendid digests those words as Flippy takes a breath and stands up, thanking him for the race and apologizes for talking his ear off and snapping on him.

Splendid stands as well and asks if Flippy needs help getting home, to which Flippy politely declines, not wanting to beat Splendid in another race. Splendid narrows his eyes and dares Flippy to repeat that, but Flippy chuckles and says he'll see him around before leaving.

Splendid watches him go and gets to thinking. He and Flippy have been friends for a while, and this stuff with flipping out and all that has been bothering him for a long time. He'd also been informed that Flippy went to Lumpy for help, but it failed miserably, so he was left to deal with it using the medicine he'd been prescribed. Beyond that, nothing seems to have helped him.

He also remembers how he had once had a doctor friend that helped people with addiction and talked with him about how some people aren't addicted to substances, but to feelings or emotions, as a comfort thing.

We don't get any more thoughts because we return to Flippy as he lets himself inside and leans against the door, very much upset with the fact that he lost it in front of one of his friends, especially one loke Splendid, who he rarely flips out on.

And it doesn't help that he hasn't lost it in a very long time.

Because his instincts are going haywire and he just needs to know HOW bad his episodes get, Flippy gets up, grabs a couple party poppers that were left over from a party he was fashionably late to(he had to do a check-in/catch up call with one of his army higher ups so they knew he was okay), and goes down to a basement, one that has a hatch door in the floor rather than a regular door.

He locks it behind him and goes down to a fully concrete basement that has holes and scratches in the concrete, because he's strong.

Here's where that deliberate triggering of trauma and an additional blackout Trigger Warnings come in, because Flippy sets up a camera, that's recoeding, takes one of the party poppers, and squeezes his eyes shut as he pulls the string and sets it off.

Flippy instantly starts seeing that he's back on the battlefield and not in his own basement, and hyperventilates as he sees an enemy standing over him, smirking and gun ready.

Flippy stares up at this enemy, but that fear melts into anger and throws himself into his enemy, landing next to a gun, which he uses to take this enemy out.

No time to relax because he gets grazed by another enemy soldier.

He smiles and chuckles, readying the gun and a knife from his leg before he races forward.

We don't see anything happen, save for black, but we fade to see Flippy coming to on the floor, sweaty, bruised, and knuckles bloody.

He groans and pushes himself up, rubbing his head for a minute before he finally looks around the basement.

The walls and floor are worse than before, but at least the camera is still intake.

Flippy gets up and stops the camera, sitting down as he reminds it back until plays it.

There's no battlefield, no enemies, no threats at all. In the video, Flippy pops the party popper, and clutches his head as he curls into the ground.

He hyperventilates and looks up backing away from someone that isn't even there. At least before he throws himself into the wall a makes a small shelf of knives fall. He mimes shooting the person before grabbing numerous knives and racing toward and hitting the wall and stabbing the wall, even punching and kicking it.

That explains the busted knuckles and bruises.

We don't see the rest of the video, but we do see Flippy's face grow more distressed and upset as he keeps watching himself fight nothing and just beat himself instead.

It is not easy to watch at all.

The video eventually ends with Flippy passing out on the floor, where we caught up with him.

Flippy puts the camera away and leans against the wall.

Guess he's a lot worse than he thought.

He sighs and rests his head against his knees.

Guess he's not leaving the house today either.

Time jump to a week or so later!

It's bright and sunny, and we're checking in on Flaky now as she struggles with some groceries; it originally started as a trip for shampoo and a new toothbrush, but it became a food run as well because she got hungry. She can't really see where she's going, but is trying her best, okay?

Carrying five bags at once a was huge mistake because she trips on a rock and almost falls down.

Almost, because Flippy catches her and helps her back to her feet.

Flaky shrieks and asks who it is.

Flippy decides to mess with her and lowers his voice, asking for either a hello or her life.

Flaky gasps and says he'll get a shoe to his shin, if he doesn't watch himself.

Flippy chuckles and asks if she skipped breakfast again, seeing all the bags she has. Flaky, turning to look at him, corrects him: she DID eat breakfast, but lunch was calling and she couldn't leave it on voice-mail.

Flippy, following along with the analogy, takes a bag or two and advices she try to learn how to BLOCK those calls when they drain her wallet.

Flaky hums, but thanks him for helping, and for the wallet he got her; it's sleek, but holds a lot of money and cards. Or card, which Flippy mutters as they walk to Flaky's house.

Flaky kicks at him, but they half walk, half run to Flaky's house. Once they arrive, Flaky thanks him again for the help and says she'll have a potatoe, butcher beef, apple soup/curry waiting for him next time he comes over.

Flippy chuckles and agrees, countering he'll bring her a cake SMOTHERED in sugar, cubes, chunks, powered, candy, caramel, all that garbage so that her teeth fall out and he can help her get METAL teeth instead.

Flaky sets down her groceries and stamps her foot, saying Flippy is not her father.

They still hug each other and Flippy leaves, telling her to take care of herself.

He continues on his walk and pays attention to the birds that are singing and wind blowing through the trees.

No time to fully appreciate it because Splendid turns a corner and Flippy waves him over, much to the superhero's delight.

They quickly touch in and ask how the other has been before Flippy interests Splendid for another race, 'the only rule is win' edition.

Splendid has a better idea: coffee. He had just finished some errands and was on his way home when he and Flippy ran into each other.

The invite seems iffy, but Flippy accepts, not wanting to run off like last time.

They walk and Splendid's smile drops a little, which draws Flippy's attention, the ex-soldier asking if everything's okay.

Splendid nods, saying everything's fine. He's just had some stuff on his mind that he can talk about when they get to his house.

Flippy stops for a second and watches Splendid continue walking, following behind more cautiously.

Cut to Splendid's house as the superhero fixes himself and his guest some coffee, though Flippy is slow to drink his because it doesn't smell like black coffee.

When asked, Splendid explains that the grounds were a little stale. He'd bought some that was fresh, but didn't want the old stuff to go to waste.

It calms Flippy enough for him to take a drink of coffee. He also asks what's been eating at Splendid, even apologizing for leaving him hanging last week.

Splendid shakes his head. Water under the bridge, everyone has their moments.

Speaking of moments, Splanedid asks if Flippy's been better since their race.

He shrugs, admitting that he's had worse happen, but that still doesn't make it good or even okay.

Splendid asks if he's ever gotten help for his 'issues' and Flippy asks back if he thinks Lumpy is really as good at everything as he thinks. Splendid supposes not, all things considered.

Done with the interview, and taking a drink of more coffee, because he's tired, Flippy asks what Splendid's deal REALLY is, and why he's so interested in Flippy's personal issues.

Splendid gives it to him straight: he's noticed that Flippy's trauma is bothering him on a pretty big level, and it has him worried for his friend, not because he can hurt people, but because he's seeing how unhappy Flippy is, and how much it tolls on him. He's had SOME experience with people who've had similar problems to Flippy's and there's a sort of therapy that's helped them. Granted, he knows Flippy doesn't enjoy flipping out, but, in a sick sense, his mind and body do. And there's a way to trick his mind into pushing his instincts away and leaving him with a normal life.

Flippy keeps his head propped up on an arm and finishes his coffee, so tired that he's barely listening and is instead asking for a fresh mug, because he doesn't understand either.

Splendid only takes his empty mug and suggests he's probably had enough coffee; he'll be up all night, if he drinks more than one cup and, as he's already said, Lumpy is a terrible doctor and will say he's about to die and overlook that he's just high of caffeine.

Flippy laughs and shakes his head, asking if Splendid is a better doctor and scoffing that he can take Lumpy.

He stops laughing when he sees that Splendid is straight faced and looks a little apologetic.

Yeah. Heavily delayed, 'oh shit!' moment for Flippy, who now realizes that there was something IN his coffee; he knows what stale coffee tastes like because he once suffered through a month of the stuff.

And he can't flip out on Splendid because he's too tired, so he's left to try running for the door.

That fails, too, so he can only pull and push himself away from Splendid, who apologizes for lying and for making Flippy go into such a panic, all the same he's just trying to help him and hopes he both forgives him and understands where he's coming from.

Flippy only keeps trying to get away, weakly telling Splendid to stay away from him.

From Flippy's blurry and world-spinny eyes, Splendid is the General from the Tiger Bomb mission, said General kneeling in front of him and smirking as Flippy knocks out with a sigh/groan.

Flippy doesn't wake up until MUCH later. He's got a splitting headache and, upon seeing all of the white-ish walls around him, sighs that he really must've fucked himself up when he set off that party popper, rubbing his head as he does so.

That's when he notices the handcuff and chain on his wrist, one that keeps him chained to one of the walls. He checks his other hand and sees that there's an identical handcuff on his wrist, also connecting him to the wall.

Not a dream.

Before Flippy can lose it, he sees a door open and Splendid walk in, looking very sheepish despite being the stronger of the two at the moment.

Before he can get any words out, Flippy charges toward him, at least until he's stopped by the chains.

It still makes Splendid jump back; powers be damned, if Flippy's mad at you, your days are numbered.

Splendid, from his place against the opposite wall, asks quite stupidly if Flippy's mad.

No. He's not mad at all. He's having the best damn day of his life, thank you for asking.

Sarcasm. All sarcasm that Splendid misses and is relieved by.

That relief vanished when Flippy charges again, pulling the handcuffs enough to make himself bleed.

Flippy demands to know what the hell is going on and why he's handcuffed in a padded cell.

When Flippy starts pulling a little too hard, like he's pulling hard enough to dent the chain links out of place, Splendid acts fast and aims a spray bottle at Flippy, and sprays water on him.

When Flippy backs down, Splendid repeats what he said upstairs, especially apologizing for not explaining how he was going to help him.

Flippy banks up, stands down, and sits down criss-crossstyle, which makes Splendid let out a sigh of relief, following his friend so they're sitting across from each other.

Flippy asks what EXACTLY Splendid was thinking when he drugged Flippy's coffee and then took Flippy to a loaded cell in his basement.

Splendid explains that he was just thinking and didn't regard what would have happened, even admitting that drugging the coffee wasn't his best or first plan; somehow sneaking up behind him with a nasty was, but that seemed insulting to Flippy's skills, so he thought about just working him out with races and exercise until Flippy passed out. That seemed like the most painful option, and the most tiring because wherever Flippy would fall would be unpredictable, so he just went south putting something in his coffee so he'd go unconscious for a little while.

Flippy takes all of this in and asks why Splendid didn't just ASK him to try this treatment he was babbling about earlier and Splendid admits that it's used for addicts to help them stop using whatever substance they're on. It's a pretty brutal technique, but it has worked.

The brutal part has Flippy concerned, so he asks what that means.

Splendid stops beating around the brush: aversion therapy. Using old war footage and medicine to make Flippy not want to go on a rampage whenever he gets triggeres.

Flippy stares at Splendid for a minute before taking off his boot and throwing it at him, asking if he's out of his damn mind.

That's not how his 'issues' work. Aversion therapy is meant to change another person so they AVERT away from something. Besides, what if they go through the therapy and Flippy's ordered backninto service, but ends up dead because he can't rely on his instincts?

Problem solved already because, as Splendid points out, Flippy's on a paid leave; his job is to stay OUT of the army now.

Flippy readies his other boot and Splendid backs down. Yes, he could've been more open about this to him. Yes, the whole chained to the wall in a basement thing is WAY too far. Yes, he should have told him as soon as he can, and he's sorry he didn't.

Flippy calms down and asks why he thinks it will work. No offense, but this is already working less than anythung Lumpy did, and the fool hypnotized himself into being a chicken.

Splendid admits he isn't sure, but he still wants to try to help.

Flippy asks what he'll do if he refuses to try this therapy. He's already on pills.

Splendid shrugs and says that while he'll be disappointed, he'll understand and won't be mad. Again, he just wants to help his friend and this is something that's worked for other people, not the chaining to the wall thing, but the aversion and sensory friendly environment, hence the padded room that isn't white, just a very light grey mixed with some blue, which is a calming color.

Flippy considers it for a minute before askung Splendid if he absolutely knows what he's doing.

Splendid nods. It took him a little freshing up and some review from a friend of his, yes. He knows what he's doing.

Flippy eyes him for a second before nodding, agreeing. Despite not saying it out loud, he wants to live life without worrying about killing everyone or snapping because his old instincts getting the better of him.

But stipulates that as soon as things get REALLY bad, they're calling this whole thing off and won't have anything to do with each other after that point.

Splendid rightfully agrees to those terms and tells Flippy to follow him to another room.

Flippy holds up his hands, reminding him of the handcuffs.

Those come off and the two leave the room, Flippy hoping Splendid was good on his word that he knew what he was doing.

Splendid shares a similar sentiment, instead hopi g that he can help his friend have a normal life.

[imastrangeone98]

Inevitable Confrontation

(A/N: Carlos is a baby. I just realized that all over again. He's an adorable man-child)

Warning: some canon deviancy here, all for the sake of adding drama ^_^ strap on your big boy pants- this is gonna be a long one! Horribly written fight scene ahead!!

Emma felt like her body had been set on fire. Maybe it was. God, she was in so much pain... Her ribs felt awful, as if they were about to pierce her from the inside.

She just wanted to sleep...

"-ma!"

So tired...

"Emma!"

A harsh slap to the face forced her to open her eyes. She sat up with a jolt, wincing at the stabbing pain in her side. "What the hell...?"

"Oh, thank God!"

She was suddenly swept up in a bone crushing hug by Jill, who looked about as bad as she felt. "...What happened?"

She slowly pulled away, giving her a sad look. "The train got blasted from course. I think... I think we're the only survivors."

Emma suddenly thought of the small group of civilians in the back car. Of the platoon leader, Mikhail.

"They're... they're dead?" she choked out, gripping tightly at Jill's shoulders as her friend pulled her up. "All... all of them?"

She was given a weak nod. "Yeah. That fucking monster just won't die."

Emma nearly growled. "That's it. Next time I see that thing, I'm blasting its head open."

"You and me both, partner," Jill agreed, and they grasped each others' hands. "But in the meantime, let's get out of here. I don't think this place is safe."

As quickly as they dared, they made their way through the sewers, making occasional stops to try and contact Carlos through the small walkie-talkie.

His face. His deep eyes. His bright smile.

What was he doing now? Emma knew he was on some important job- at least, that was what her friend told her- but she still wondered if he was safe.

And to think for even a moment that I'd be able to never think about him again...

ROAR!

The two women flinched, glancing behind them at the empty, pitch-black hallways.

"C'mon," Jill whispered, yanking at her partner's shirt. "Climb!"

She obeyed, scrambling up the rungs of the ladder and hauling her body onto solid ground. Her friend emerged quickly after, only for the two to nearly jump at another howl from below.

"That fucker's still alive," she muttered. "We can't stay here."

So they kept moving, hoping to find some sense of higher ground on the bridge. Jill immediately began to try reestablishing contact with Carlos while Emma sat heavily on a bench.

"Carlos? Respond!" she tried once more.

A crackle on the radio, then, "Yeah, what's up?"

She nearly breathed a sigh of relief before responding. "We didn't make it. The train derailed."

Emma listened to them closely, feeling the comfort at hearing his voice.

But it immediately sank when the water beneath them began to bubble.

She stood up and began pushing at Jill. "We have to go!"

"What do you mean- What the fuck?!"

The bridge groaned and shook with the sudden weight of the monster as it slammed onto the surface. Water sluiced off of its grotesque limbs as it snarled at them, not unlike a rabid beast.

"It's back!" she screamed, tackling the other to the ground when it swiped at them. She yanked Emma up and pulled her along, sprinting as fast as they could.

"Keep running!" Emma called out, pushing her friend forward before pulling down pieces of metal in the faint hopes it would slow the creature down. Without stopping to see if it worked, she jumped across the sudden gap in the bridge, grabbing her partner's outstretched hand.

They dropped in front of the clock tower, where the monster slammed down in front of them, releasing another bloodcurdling roar.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Jill shouted at the thing as she prepped her grendade launcher.

Emma sighed, snatching up her dual pistols in both hands and firing them at the monster's potential weak points, expertly avoiding any swipes from its tentacles. Her partner used everything she had- shotgun, pistol, grenade launcher- while she chased after the tyrant, muttering profanities under her breath.

She did her best to keep up. Emma used every grenade she kept stored and nearly ran out of bullets with how frequently she was shooting.

But it was working. Bit by bit, the monster began to slow.

"Jill! It's now or never!"

"Alright," she replied, turning to the growling tyrant. "Let's do this. Suck it!"

Grenades exploded against the monster, over and over. Bits of skin, rubble, and ash flew everywhere. It stumbled, then collapsed, nearly jolting the two women into the air.

Emma groaned, clutching her abdomen. "Hopefully we don't have to do that again."

"Yeah." Jill sighed, rubbing her neck. She grabbed the small radio. "Carlos? You still there?"

No response- just white noise.

"Oh, come on!" she hissed at the machine. "You're gonna crap out on me now? Goddammit." She briskly moved to the other woman's side, helping her get an arm around her shoulders. "We should get moving, find someplace safe."

"Sounds like a plan," Emma wheezed with a pained grin.

They passed through the gate, carefully stepping over the tyrant's massive hand before continuing down the passageway-

And she was suddenly pulled to the floor. Her skin burned as it was dragged against the stone.

"Emma!" Jill cried. Burning with fury, her eyes locked onto the small chain above the gate. She shot it, and the whole thing came crashing down atop the thing's arm.

Blood oozed from the wound. Emma scooted away from it. Shivers ran down her entire body. "Oh God... Oh God..."

"It's okay," she comforted her friend, helping the smaller one to her feet. "Let's keep moving."

"...Right."

They turned their backs on the wounded thing.

A horrible mistake.

Without either one noticing, it released a sharp spike straight into Emma's arm before collapsing once more.

She yelped at the sudden pain radiating through her, and pulled out the spike. A sense of dread overcame her. Then weakness. Then-

[...]

Jill had the pistol aimed at her friend's head.

She knew what she had to do.

After the Arklay incident, the two had made a promise that if something like it ever occurred again, and one of them got infected, the other would shoot them. No guilt, no pain- just the relief that they would not end up becoming one of those monsters.

Jill would keep her end of the bargain. She had to. She promised.

"No matter what happens, I'll always have your back," the rookie promised with a sweet smile.

"You know what? We should go snowboarding," she mused over donuts.

"There's a hundred things I could do, and I'd choose being your friend above all of it."

Tears slipped down her cheeks. The muzzle slowly met the ground. Gently, she adjusted her friend so her head rested on her lap.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. The taste of salt and regret were heavy on her tongue.

She could not keep her promise after all.

[Half a Day Later...]

Carlos was exhausted.

Ever since the haunting call with Jill, he had absolutely no idea what happened to the two women. Were they injured? Were they-

His feet skittered on the pavement. His hands felt clammy. Air refused to enter his lungs.

On the ground, pale as death... was Emma.

He couldn't lie and say he didn't get tunnel vision. He sprinted to her, rifle clattering to the ground as he scooped her into his arms.

"Emma?" he croaked, lightly shaking her body. "Amor? What happened to you?" He turned to the second woman. Anger blazed in his eyes. "What the fuck happened to her?!"

The sobs continuing to wrack her body, but she managed to get out the words "tyrant" and "some kind of infection."

A chill ran down his spine.

Infected. She was infected.

His hands curled into fists. He stared at the cracks in the pavement. Some dark, monstrous part of himself whispered that it should have been Jill who got infected.

He forced it down. This wasn't the time for blame. Logically, he knew that it was something beyond either of their control.

...But there was something within his.

"Tyrell, do you copy?" he nearly screamed into the comlink.

"What's goin' on?"

"Emma's been infected. I..." Tears threatened to clog his throat; he swallowed. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Maybe Dr. Bard can save her."

"Alright. I'll meet you there."

With that accomplished, he turned to Jill. "I'm gonna carry her, but I'm useless with my gun."

She nodded, a glint of her usual determination shining through once again. "You can count on me."

With a nod, he lifted her into the air. She looked so pale... so helpless...

"Hang in there, baby," he murmured, pulling her closer to his chest. "Stay with me. Be strong."

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

A/N: so yea- Emma ended up being the infected rather than Jill but yes drama

Blehhh XD

This ended up being much longer than I expected or hoped. Maybe I should've broken it down into pieces.... whoops 😅

Edit: read the sequel! :D

[fic-for-fic-sake]

As Long As You’re Mine

A/N: This is the follow up to “I’m Not That Girl”. This second part now follows the song “As Long As You’re Mine” also from Wicked. Hope you enjoy...

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff

Six months ago Steve Rogers left you for his ex, and you were handling it. How well you were handling it was debatable but you were moving on and making progress. Which is why when Bucky said there was a new mission you jumped at the opportunity. You had been out of the game way too long, it was time to get to work again. 

Ever since the time tech had been used, people had a way of getting their hands on it, or something similar, and using it for nefarious purposes. Most of which involved giving Hydra a leg up years in advance. Telling them information they shouldn’t know about events that hadn’t happened yet. 

This time, some Hydra newbie, probably trying to prove his worth, used the time tech to go back to 1954 Miami. Some top Hydra execs were meeting and your intel told you that he intended on meeting them there. Your team was unsure of what information he would pass on but Fury said any information out of time is too dangerous, especially in the wrong hands.

You wanted in. This mission would be perfect for you, it would allow you to get back into the swing of things and be relatively undetected. Since he went back alone and it wasn’t your time, people wouldn’t know to be on the lookout for you. Plus security was way more lax in the 50′s so you didn’t have as much to worry about on that front. 

After some internet searches, Bucky’s personal input, and same day Amazon delivery you were ready to go. You marched up to the platform, cream colored heels clacking on the flooring. You felt ridiculous. You wore a white dress with red roses on it, the kind that cinched in at the waist and flared out at the leg. The halter tie of the dress sat uncomfortably at the base of your neck, but your bouncy decade appropriate curls hid it well. The tulle underskirt you had on made a swooshing noise every time you dared move an inch and it drove you crazy. Your white short gloves felt too snug on your hands and you placed one of your many guns in your small silk clutch. The pearl earrings felt too big and your red lipstick made you feel like an overdone Marilyn Monroe. 

Bucky noticed your scowl. “Don’t give me that look, I thought you wanted to go on this mission.” Bucky chided, trying to stifle his grin. 

“Yeah I did, until it involved me dressing up like Mrs. Maisel” You protested, holding your wrist out for Bucky to secure the time bracelet on. 

“Listen doll, you’ve gotta blend in okay? Can’t exactly have you turnin’ up in your normal gear.” He side eyed, referring to your catsuit. Okay, he had a point, that didn’t mean you were enjoying it anymore. Despite yourself, you chuckled. “What’s so funny?” He asked. 

“I mean the fifties is pretty close to your time. I might hear a lot of people talk like you.” You said, thinking about how you liked the way Bucky spoke, still used darlin’ and doll and all that stuff. It reminded you of someone else who used to sweet talk you like that. No, don’t even go there. Steve’s gone and you’re moving on, this mission is what matters. 

“You remember the mission?” He questioned, going over to where Bruce was flipping switches on the control panel. 

“Yeah, go to the beach party, find our guy, take him out. No witnesses, no unnecessary bloodshed.” You repeated, fastening your gloves and getting ready for the mission. Miami, 1954, summer and sun. This should be a piece of cake, home in no time. 

After squinting the sunlight out of your eyes, you tried to catch your bearings by looking around you. Before you could see anything, you smelt them, cubanos. Your mouth watered as you remembered how good they tasted the first time you had one. Would they taste different in 1954? You wondered, but reminded yourself you didn’t have time for such luxuries, you had a party to get to. Just when you thought you would have a hard time finding the place you saw a throng of people heading out to the beach. You literally had to pinch yourself, it felt like you were watching an old movie. 

Guys in short board shorts and girls in high waisted bathing suits and apparently swimming caps, were headed to the beach without a care in the world. They had bottles of Coca-cola in their hands, and the women had straws so they wouldn’t ruin their lipstick. You almost laughed at the thought. If only they knew about the war on plastic straws in your society, you wondered what they would do. Somehow you didn’t think they would care. 

As you followed the people down the beach you noticed more peculiar things. Instead of sunscreen people were actually putting on tanning oil, nobody seemed to care about sun damage. Doris Day and Nat King Cole played in the distance and you wondered vaguely if this was how Marty McFly felt. 

Women in dresses like yours walked by and eyed you in appreciation. Kids ran around flying kites and asking for ice cream. It crossed your mind that those kids were old enough to be your parents now...weird. You reached in your clutch and pulled out the picture of your target. Granted, he probably went through his own Queer Eye 1950s edition makeover as well, so it may be a little harder than originally thought to find him, and to do so before he finds Hydra. You knew they had a meeting at 3:00 and it was 2:26 right now, you had time. 

You kept walking through the beach and your heart stopped. You saw a rope snake its way through the beach and even into the water, what the hell? You got closer and read the sign attached, “Colored swimming”. Damnit, 1950s in Miami meant segregation. Assholes. You really wanted to storm up to all the white people and talk about racial equality and Obama but it wasn’t any use. You knew that somewhere in the country right now, Doctor King was rearing up to do the same thing and it made you smile. Until it didn’t. The terrible thing about time travel is that you have to keep everything as it was. Kind of like snooping in your parents' room when you’re a kid. Even the slightest thing out of place and it was trouble. So that meant, even the bad things, had to stay the same. 

Feeling a little dejected and thinking you had some time, you decided to head back to the cubano cart and try one, you’re only in 1954 once right? You were walking back, head down, as you bumped into someone, literally. 

“Sorry doll, didn’t mean to hit ya.” Came a voice that made your blood run cold. A voice you hadn’t heard in six months. But that wasn’t possible, he wasn’t supposed to be here. 

“Steve?” You questioned, wide eyed and hopeful despite yourself. You took in the man before you. Even though he looked a little older, it was still him. Standing tall in front of you in khaki colored slacks and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, fuck what that did to you. You felt your mouth go dry despite yourself as you saw his tousled blond locks, no doubt loving the Miami sun. He had a pair of aviators slung into the collar of his shirt, pulling it down slightly. His crystal blue eyes stared at you in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

“Y/N?” He questioned. The second his name left your lips the spell was broken. You wrenched your arm away from his hand and took a noticeably large step back from him. “What are you doing here?” 

“None of your business Rogers.” You replied coldly, as you stormed off in the opposite direction. 2:29, you needed to find your target, you did NOT need this. You could feel tears rushing to your eyes and you tried your best to dab them away with your stupid gloves. You pulled your fingers from your eyes to see the white material smeared with black makeup. 

“Y/N, wait!” You heard Steve call behind you and you knew you couldn’t escape him, couldn’t outrun Captain Fucking America, your ex. He grabbed your arm and forced you to turn around, to look at him. You felt your glassy eyes become devoid of emotion and hardened your stance. 

“What!” You practically shouted at him. Daring him to say something, anything, to break the silence. 

“Doll, what are you doing here? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He questioned, coming over to you and pressing both hands on your bare shoulders. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms in a soothing gesture like he used to do when you would get upset about something, his touch ignited something inside of you. Your body responded to him despite yourself. Remembering what he did to you, you shrugged his hands off of you.  

“You don’t get to ask any questions Rogers, you lost that privilege when you left me.” You seethed, turning on your heels and making a beeline for the bathroom, pushing the door open and staring at your reflection in the mirror. You tried to take quick, calming breaths, knowing you only had moments before Steve came rushing through the door. Sure as sunshine Steve came through no less than three minutes later. He dutifully checked under all the stalls before he turned to face you again. 

“You know what I mean, I mean what are you doing in 1954?” He questioned, face paling slightly. Looking like he’d seen a ghost and you guess for him, he did. He probably didn’t expect to see you today either, for obvious reasons. 

“I’m looking for someone.” You stated petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the sink counter. 

“Who could you possibly be looking for?” Steve wondered, walking closer to you. 

“Some rogue Hydra agent came back to today to give important information to the higher ups and Fury wanted me to stop it.” You relented, letting out a sigh. “What are you doing here?” You questioned, nodding in his direction. “Shouldn’t you be in DC or something?” 

Steve shuffled from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. You hated that you knew that about him. “Uh, I’m uh sort of on vacation...with, Peggy.” He responded, wincing at the last word like he dropped a bomb. Which he may well have. 

You scoffed, chuckled as you turned away from him to face your reflection in the mirror. Would rather look at the mess you’d become than him, anywhere but him. “Why am I not surprised? You enjoying your cookie cutter white picket fence life Steve?” You questioned, not wanting to meet his eyes in the mirror but doing so despite yourself. He looked sad and downcast. As if he had the right. 

“It’s not like that.” He defended, coming closer to you still. 

“Cut the shit Steve.” You snapped, turning on your heel to face him. “You know the worst thing about what you did huh?” You questioned, not giving him time to answer before you kept going. “No matter how much I drank or how much I cursed you and your fucking pathetic life, I never got any goddamn closure. Never got a why. Guess I wasn’t good enough to warrant an explanation.” You snarked, moving around him to leave. 

“Stop it.” Steve commanded, grabbing your arm and pulling your chest flush against his, it made your heart beat like a hummingbird was trapped in your chest. “It wasn’t like that. Do you know how much I thought about it? How many nights I sat in bed and…” Steve cut himself off, running his fingers through his hair. 

“And what Steve? Say it.” You challenged, leaning your body up against his. Feeling how his every muscle responded to you, like waking up for the first time. 

“And thought about you okay? God did I think about you, it was torture.” He admitted. 

“Torture?” You questioned, walking him back until he hit the counter top, “You wanna know what was torture?” You asked, as you unbuckled his pants and began to palm his hardening length, “the knowledge that you left me for a fucking fantasy, that’s what’s torture. That I never meant anything to you.” You accentuated the word ‘anything’ by giving his cock a generous squeeze which had him groaning into the open air. 

“You know- you know that’s not true.” He struggled to say as his hips began to buck to your ministrations. You loved that after eight years for him, you could still make him come undone like this. 

“Show me.” You breathed into his ear, a challenge. One he happily accepted. He pulled on your neck and pressed his lips firmly against yours. They were needy and hot and demanding and you gave. 

Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight. I need help believing you’re with me tonight.

His tongue demanded entrance into your mouth and you opened up for him, swallowing his moans as you continued to stroke him. Your teeth sank into his glorious bottom lip and he sighed as his hips thrust into your hand again. His hands moved all over your body. Splaying against your back, teasing the top of your breasts, and finally working their way under your dress until he found his target. His lips sought the column of your throat as one swift finger entered you, making you moan, which you promptly tried to stifle. 

“Uh uh sweetheart, don’t you dare. I haven’t heard those precious sounds of yours in far too long.” He chastised lightly as he worked his finger inside of you, eliciting another groan from your mouth. You found your hips rocking against his palm and you suddenly pressed your hand against his arm, making him withdraw his finger. You slowly backed away from him, taking in his appearance. His lips were kiss bruised and his beautiful blue eyes were lust blown. 

“I’m gonna do something I bet Peggy never does.” You teased as you got down on your knees in front of him. He looked at you with desire in his eyes that went straight to your core. You grasped his length once again and teased it, dragging the tip over your red and waiting lips. “Does she do this for you Stevie?” you questioned, looking at him through thick lashes. He simply shook his head no in response and a triumphant smile spread over your face. Slowly, you dragged your tongue along the underside of his shaft. 

“Fuck.” He seethed, hands going to the back of your head and gripping your hair. You took as much of him as you could into your wet and wanting mouth. Humming around his length in appreciation. He bucked his hips into you, making your eyes water but you didn’t care. You were reveling in the fact that Steve Rogers hadn’t had a blowjob in eight years and you were giving it to him. 

The bathroom became a symphony of sounds. His moans and grunts and silent curses and your gagging and choking, trying to take as much of him as you could. You pulled him out of your mouth with a pop and rubbed the back of your hand across your mouth, smearing your saliva and his precum over your face and hand. He pulled you up and planted a scathing kiss to your lips, not caring that he tasted himself on your tongue. 

He moved you so that you were facing your reflection once more and Steve was behind you, lining himself up against your now dripping cunt. 

And just for this moment, as long as you’re mine. I’ve lost all resistance and crossed some borderline. 

He slowly sank into you inch by inch, filling you out as you hadn’t been in six months. You let out a groan of appreciation and he let you adjust to him, his hands fisting the skirt material at your hips, waiting for you to move. You wiggled a little bit and he took the hint. He pulled out so only the tip was left inside before he slammed himself back into you so hard you saw stars. He continued at an unrelenting pace, hips snapping into your ass as he fucked you. You looked at the wanton reflection in the mirror and almost came on the spot. 

Your hair, once nice and poised, was now a ruined mess. Your eyes looked utterly blissed out and half closed, your lipstick was a wreck and smeared all over your cheek. You looked back at Steve and he looked utterly blissed out. His mouth was slackjaw and pink from your lipstick and his hair was mused. 

“Like what you see sweetheart?” Steve questioned before he slammed back into you. Your hand came up to the mirror in an effort to brace yourself as you let out a garbled moan as a response. Steve pulled out of you and you whimpered at the loss of contact before he turned you around and sat you on the counter. 

“Need to see you babygirl.” He said, voice husky as he maneuvered himself between your thighs and sunk two fingers inside your weeping core. 

“Fuck Steve.” You cursed, gripping his shoulders as he finger fucked you. His deft fingers massaged your walls as his hungry lips sought out yours in a frantic kiss. You kissed him back with a fury, grabbing fist fulls of blond hair as your hips rocked against his fingers. You could feel your high approaching. “Baby, I’m close.” You whimpered into his mouth. You felt him smile against you as he brought his thumb to rub your clit. 

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me huh? Cum all over my fingers baby.” He encouraged and his words sent you over the edge. You could feel your walls contract around his stilling fingers as he allowed you to ride out your high. Your hands went slack in his hair but only for a moment until he guided his member back to your core and sank himself in. 

“Goddamn baby you still feel so good around me.” He marveled as he fucked you. You could feel every vein in his cock against your walls as he stretched and filled you out. You could feel your toes start to curl in carnal bliss. He undid the knot at the base of your neck and the front of your dress fell down, exposing your breasts to him. He growled as he bent down and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth, nibbling on the stiff peak. Your hands scrambled across his back, looking for purchase. You hadn’t been fucked this good since he left and you didn’t think you would be ever again, making the feeling that much more intense. 

Every moment, as long as you’re mine. I’ll wake up my body and make up for lost time. 

He pulled your nipple from his mouth and worked on sucking on your sensitive spot between your neck and collar bone. You reached a hand down to massage his balls as he fucked you and his answering groan sent a wonderful vibrating sensation across your skin. “Stevie, I think I’m gonna…” You couldn’t make a complete sentence you were so blissed out. You could feel the coil in your belly tighten for the second time in this beach bathroom in 1954. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer and Steve knew it too. 

Say there’s no future for us as a pair. And though I may know, I don’t care. 

He brought his hand down to massage your clit, getting you there faster. “Come with me baby, you know you want to.” He urged you on. Seeing him so fucked out and the way he looked at you like you still hung the moon for him was your undoing. You let out a garbled cry as you came gloriously around his cock. He thrusted a few more times before you felt him spill inside of you. 

Just for this moment, as long as you’re mine. Come be how you want to, and see how bright we shine.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. He was growing soft inside of you as the two of you rested your foreheads against each other and tried to catch your breath. He slowly pulled out of you and cleaned you up, before pressing a somber lingering kiss to your lips. 

And if it turns out, it’s over too fast. I’ll make every last moment last.

You kissed him back, the tone sadder than when you started. He helped you off the counter and fixed you up. You were about to leave but he wrapped two strong arms around you, letting you rest your head against his chest and he rested his chin on your head, swaying you both in his arms to an invisible melody. 

Borrow the moonlight until it is through. And know I’ll be here holding you.

Steve gently raised your chin with his finger and pressed one final kiss to your lips. You knew in your bones, that this was a kiss goodbye. So you let yourself enjoy it, not wanting to spoil the last moment you two would be in each others lives. 

As long as you’re mine.

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part three Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work as a team. Summary part three: Sam and Dean check out an abandoned house in search for the shapeshifter, but find something else. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks.  Music: Hey Man, Nice Shot - Filter Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank. @coffee-obsessed-writer​, @soupornatural​ & @mrswhozeewhatsis​, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ & @winchest09​ who are deciphering the recent version; thank you for helping me with this story and for taking it to a higher level. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     "Just remind me, why the fuck are we here again, Sam?”

     A ’67 Chevrolet Impala comes to a complete stop at the end of a long driveway. It’s still dark, but the lingering thunderstorm casts a flash of light on the abandoned house, thunder crackling several seconds later. Hey Man, Nice Shot by Filter is playing in the cassette deck, as the driver in his mid-twenties glances over at the younger guy next to him. Apparently, he is not amused.      “Dean, let it go already. If we have a lead, we follow it. Even if it’s six o'clock in the morning,” the passenger responds, annoyed.      “We don’t have a lead, you have a hunch. That’s my point, Sam. Or should I start callin’ you Jennifer Love Hewitt now?” the driver argues.      “So we don’t have a lead, but that’s exactly why we should--” the passenger wants to continue his sentence, but Dean interrupts.      “You know what I should be doing? Sleeping. In a bed,” he deadpans.      “And you call me a whiny bitch?” Sam sasses back.      “With good reason. Staying up all night is making you cranky,” Dean comments. “We have an appointment with that Cliffer dude tomorrow, during normal daytime hours. We work from there, that’s what we agreed on.”

      Sam bites down on the frustration. He didn’t drag his brother all the way up here and listen to his complaints about working at ‘unethical hours’, as he called it, only to head back to town without giving the place a once over.      “We’re not even certain if he’s the next victim,” he reminds him. “If we find something here, we might actually know what we’re dealing with.”      “I thought you already knew what we’re dealing with?” the older sibling returns, confused.      “I’m ninety-nine percent sure. All we do know for a fact, is because of my research, so back off,” Sam returns harshly, opening his door to get out.      “Someone has to do the driving. If it was up to you we’d end up in fuckin’ Texas!” Dean exclaims, loud enough for his brother to hear as he walks off.

     Sam halts on the driveway and grunts. Why does Dean always have to be such a pain? He turns around and glares at his brother. The headlights of the Chevy are bright; he has to narrow his eyes to see the driver through the glass.      “We’re here already. We might as well check it out,” Sam persists, while raising his long arms to the side, letting them fall slack against his body again a second later.      He waits for Dean to react, but his brother continues to stare back, challenging him without saying a word. His arrogant expression says it all. Left hand on the wheel, the ‘don’t you dare walk any further and get your ass back in the car’ look on his face. Sam is planning to do the opposite, though. After all, he is the stubborn one.      “Whatever, Dean.” Unimpressed, he turns towards the house.      The older Winchester leans out the window of his car, watching his brother like a hawk. “Where are you going?”      “What does it look like?” Without looking back, Sam strolls on with his hands in his pockets.      “Sammy, get back here!” Dean commands with a stern voice.      “It’s Sam!” the young hunter corrects, ignoring the order as he follows the road to the house.      Dean waits for a little while, not wanting his younger sibling to win. But he can’t possibly let him enter the house all by himself; what if there is something inside? Dean won’t let him go in alone, his little brother probably knows that too.      “Stubborn bastard,” Dean curses, kills the engine and gets out of his car.

     Annoyed, he opens the trunk, takes out a duffel and loads an extra gun, which he puts away behind his waistband. He tosses the bag over his shoulder, locks the car and catches up.      “Walking into a possible hideout without a weapon,” he mocks, while handing his brother a gun. “And they call you the responsible one.”      Sam grins. “I knew you’d come around.”       “Wipe that smile off your face, smartass. We’ve got work to do,” Dean mutters, taking the lead up to the front porch.      The younger sibling checks his weapon.“Silver bullets?”      “Yep,” Dean confirms. “One of these to the heart and our Chameleon is dead.”      He grabs the knob and opens the door, which slowly opens with an eerie shriek. Dean pretends to shiver. “Shit just got scary.”       “Cut the crap and be serious for once,” Sam hisses, shaking his head, disapproving.

     The brothers check the living room, holding their flashlights over their guns. They move through the house like trained military, ready to strike if necessary, covering each other as they scan and clear each room. A thick layer of dust covers the tables, couches, and cabinets in the house. A few windows are broken, shattered glass scattered on the windowsills. Plaster has come off the moldy walls, tearing down strips of wallpaper with it. Water damage stains the ceiling, decay creaks the rotten floor; no one has been here for ages.      “Nothing here,” Sam concludes with a lowered voice, still cautious.      “See? Told ya,” Dean rubs in.      “I’ll check upstairs. See if you can find some clues down here,” Sam suggests, ignoring his brother’s comment.      “Fine,” he mutters, as he saunters to the other room, silently mocking his hunting partner.

     Dean rummages through some paperwork, but there’s nothing interesting here. He shakes his head; he can’t believe he let his brother convince him to come with. Hell, he could be fast asleep right now.      “I’m all clear, Sam.” Dean puts away his gun and strolls back to the hallway.      Sam looks down from the staircase, somewhat disappointed.      “Yeah, me too. Let’s get out of here before the--”      The younger Winchester doesn’t finish his sentence, distracted by a noise coming from somewhere inside the house. Dean draws his gun again, his eyes quickly darting to the end of the hall, then back into the room. That wasn’t a mouse or a bird, that much he knows. Seems like they are not alone after all.

     Silently, Sam comes down the stairs. His senses are on high alert, picking up every sound, every smell, even the slightest movement. The feeling they’re being watched settles in his chest, but besides the singular ‘thump’ they heard, the brothers can’t detect anything out of the ordinary.      Dean’s eyes seeks his brother, who looks back and nods. A short connection, eye contact for a fraction of a second. It’s all they need to understand each other perfectly. It crosses Dean’s mind that it’s the first non-verbal interaction between them, since Sam came back from Stanford three weeks ago. The current threat forces him to keep his mind on the job, though.      The hunter approaches the door to the pantry where the sound seemed to originate from, backed up by his sibling. Both have their weapon in hand and are ready to fire. Carefully, the oldest of the two lets his left hand slip from the grip and grabs the doorknob, when he hears the familiar click of the safety switch on a gun.      “What the--”

     A shot echoes through the house, the bullet ripping through his shoulder. Dean hits the wall, the intense white hot pain taking him down. In a light speed reaction, Sam fires his gun twice in the direction where the enemy fire came from, quick to pursue the shooter. When he finds the next room empty, he returns to his brother, who has collapsed against the wall.      “Dean!”      Worried, Sam kneels next to him and keeps him upright. Blood trickles from a hole in his jacket, drenching the navy blue fabric in no time. Dean almost passes out, but he manages to chase the black spots that cloud his vision away. With his jaws clamped shut he grunts in agony.      “That wasn’t rock salt, was it?” Sam assumes, the trace of panic evident in his voice.      “Pretty sure it wasn’t,” Dean groans, fighting the pain.      Suddenly, light illuminates the grim setting. Sam quickly lifts his weapon again, but before the hunter can get a good aim, a distinctive female voice stops him. 

     “Don’t fucking move.” 

     The bright ray blinds the boys, the plating of the weapon catches the light as it caresses the metal; they are looking straight in the barrel. The only thing they hear is their own respiration, Dean’s out of control and labored, Sam’s increased with adrenaline, but relatively calm in the face of danger. Heavy tension hangs in the air, suffocating smog that’s making it difficult to inhale. No one moves, the brothers held at gunpoint both aware a flinch could be the death of them.       “Drop your gun. Now.”      Sam does as told, slowly and calculated. When he straightens himself and leans back on his haunches, he shows his hands, beckoning the woman not to shoot him. What feels like minutes, but are mere seconds in reality, pass by. The beam from the flashlight glides over the men’s faces, as if the beholder tries to see something in their eyes. Then the gun lowers, the safety switch flipped.      “Damn it!”      “You can say that again,” Dean groans.      “What the hell are you doing here, sneaking around in an abandoned house, huh?” their ambusher snaps, irritated, shining the flashlight back on the boys’ faces. 

     When it captures Dean, she keeps the beam of light in place. Wait a minute, he looks familiar. Didn’t his partner just call him Dean?      “We could ask you the same thing.” Sam intends to get up but immediately looks into the barrel.       “Did I tell you you’re allowed to move?” she warns.      Pretending not to be impressed, Sam stays still nonetheless. “Who are you?”      “None of your fucking business,” the young woman counters rapidly and concentrates on Dean again. “I know you.”      Dean swallows, nervously. “I hope not.”       “One of your mad exes?” Sam assumes, the sound of his voice reduced to a whisper.      “Don’t know, but if you’d stop shining that damn light in my face, I could have a better look,” he comments, directing his gaze at their opponent, holding his hand above his eyes to shut out some of the brightness.

     She lowers the flashlight in order for Dean to see her face. Taking the female in, he smirks. Apparently, he likes what he sees.      “No, I have absolutely no idea who you are, unless… Aren’t you that chick from Seattle with the weird piercing?” he wonders.      “Take a better look, Dean Winchester.”      She throws him the flashlight, which he catches with one hand, flips, and aims at her. In front of him stands a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with brown hair and dark eyes, dressed in all leather.       “Nice, but that’s not really my kink,” he comments, nodding at her outfit.      Annoyed, she rolls her eyes, clearly not intimidated by the objectification. Dean cannot place her, however, and again he takes her in from head to toe. He can’t see much, only harsh white light and dark shades, but she’s right; he knows that face. The strong profile of her jaw, her nose small, slightly pointed. Her hair is a little shorter than it was back then, but those dark brown eyes, how could he forget?

     “Zoë?”       She looks back at him, a satisfied smile pulling dimples in her cheeks.      “Zoë Sullivan, I can’t believe it,” he gapes, but then clamps his hand around his bleeding shoulder, the slightest movement reminding him of what just happened. “You shot me!”       “Who?” Sam interrupts their intermezzo.      “Yeah, same question. Who is he?” Zoë nods at the tall guy with the surfer hair as she kneels down next to Dean, observing his injury.      “I’m his brother,” Sam elaborates.      “Ah. Sam, right? College boy,” she responds with a tone.      Sam cocks his head back, stunned, then turns to Dean.      “I can see how you two met,” he mocks.      “We weren’t an item if that’s what you mean,” Zoë immediately corrects.      “But we did look kinda cute, didn’t we?” Dean adds, a shit eating grin adorning his face.      The huntress frowns, amused and almost pitiful. Oh, sweetie, not in a million years.      “You never stood a chance, Dean.” 

     Without warning, she tears up Dean’s sleeve to have a better look at his shoulder.      “Hey!” Dean protests stunned.      “You can buy a new jacket with your scammed credit cards later. There was a hole in it anyway,” she dismisses. “Stop whining.”      “If you’re not one of his dates.” Sam gets up and watches the two. “Then how do you know each other?”      “Dean doesn’t date. Dean fucks everything that moves,” she amends again, dodging the question.      “I’m still in the room, y’know?” Dean interjects, but Zoë ignores him.

     Instead she takes off her black scarf, folds it into a bundle and presses it against the entry wound, earning a pained grunt from the injured man. It’s not sterile, but it will have to do for now.       “Keep pressure on that,” she orders, letting him take over with his good hand. “Get up.”      Sam gives his brother a hand and helps him on his feet. A little unsteady and in a bad mood, Dean heads outside.      “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

     Zoë holds the door as they exit the house. The thunderstorms have been coming in from the east all night, still lingering in the distance, trees obstructing the view. A faint moon has found a weak spot in the dense clouds above them, its light struggling to reach the earth. Miles from the big city, the scents of nature rise after the rain came down, the smell of pine and damp soil rising from the forest. It’s quiet outside, almost too quiet. She didn’t miss anything, did she?      The huntress glances over her shoulder and takes one last look at the abandoned place.       “Well, that didn’t get me any further,” she mutters to herself, apparently loud enough for Dean to hear.      “You got me shot,” he sneers.      “Oh, don’t be such a baby. It’s just your shoulder. I can aim,” she snaps, not even feeling sorry for the guy.

     “Don’t you check your target before you fire a bullet at it?” he growls, as they walk down the driveway.      “You were the one who told me to shoot first and ask questions later,” she answers smartly.      “That does sound like you,” Sam agrees, earning a death stare from his brother.      “Shut up. Did you book a motel?” Dean waits by the door on the passenger's side and reluctantly tosses his brother the keys. Driving with a bullet in his shoulder has proven to be difficult before, so he’ll leave it to Sam for once.      “What do I look like? A travel agency?” Sam returns smartly, as he unlocks the Impala.

     Dean turns to Zoë. “Where are you staying?”       “Motel 6,” she informs. “But forget the idea of sharing a room.”      “In that case, I hope your motel has more than one room,” he nags, already done with her attitude.      “You need a ride?” Sam offers, not seeing another car anywhere close.      Dean turns his head slowly and gazes over the top of the car. His face is twisted in shock, disbelief and disgust, expressing something along the line of ‘what the fuck, Sam!’       “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Zoë banishes.      It triggers the hunters to raise their eyebrows at her, and from his peripheral vision, Sam notices the relief on Dean’s face.      “Where did you leave your car then?” he wonders.      “Who said anything about a car?”

     Zoë reappears from under the shading trees, pushing a black motorbike into motion, the chrome Harley Davidson emblem reflecting in the little light the night sky of Rochester offers. It’s clear neither of the boys were expecting this form of transportation, because both their jaws drop.      “You ride a motorcycle?” Sam utters, surprised.      “I don’t ride a motorcycle. I ride a Harley,” she corrects, while putting on her helmet. “You think the leather’s for fun?”      The older one of the brothers nods, approvingly. “Nice ride.”       “Thanks,” she returns, slightly beaming with pride.      “What do you think of mine?” Dean lays his hand on top of his ‘67 Chevy Impala, clearly proud of his baby, but Zoë doesn’t seem overly impressed.      “It’s a car,” she comments dully.

     Zoë starts her Harley, the headlight switching on as she does so. Without further notice, she rides off, leaving Dean, completely flabbergasted. Her tail light disappears as she turns around the corner, the signature Harley V-twin engine roaring when she accelerates.      Astounded, Dean glides into the passenger’s seat, staring blankly down the driveway. “Did she just shoot me and insult my car?”       Sam struggles to hide a smirk as he settles behind the wheel. “I think she did.”      “What a bitch!” Dean scolds, spitting out the final word.      “I don’t know,” his brother questions, shrugging. “I think she’s kind of fun.”       The older Winchester darts his eyes at the driver, his lip twitching, disapprovingly. “Shut up, College boy.” 

     Sam chuckles amused and starts the car. The mix tape in the cassette player automatically continues Hey Man, Nice Shot by Filter. Dean shakes his head, still bothered and frankly, quite insulted.      “Just a car, how could she say that?”      “Let it go, Dean,” Sam consults, as he turns on to 110th Ave NW.

     He follows the single red light in the distance and speeds up before he loses sight of the bright dot. Several thoughts cross his mind while driving to the motel, pondering about the gut feeling that pointed him in this direction in the first place. It bothers Sam that they didn’t make any progress, even though he was sure something was going on around the abandoned property. Oh well, at least they ran into Zoë Sullivan. His brother might not be happy about their encounter, but she clearly knows her stuff; she might have more information on this case. The sooner they finish this job, the sooner they can continue their search for their father. It might not be quite the night he expected, but he can’t deny it was exciting.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read chapter four here!

[vertanimeni]

the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (2/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy/Grounder OC

Word Count: 4,027

TW:��None I believe~

A/N: Hi hi! After some convincing from my friends, I decided to post this series here :D I’ve already finished with season 1 and half of season 2, I’m just in the middle of re-writing and editing. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. I’ll be updating every other day at 12pm EST. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

⟻ Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ⟼ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ii. invaders.

As it turned out, sending word to Chief on the scavenger group was the right call. The group had almost triggered Mount Weather’s fog territory when one of them, a young boy, had used a vine to leap across the river. With little time to think or make a plan, a scout had speared the boy in the chest from afar and dragged his body away.

Well. The entire situation could have ended up worse, especially since the hunters of surrounding villages were out at that time. If they had been caught in the fog, there was no chance of survival for them or the food they might have been hunting.

Unfortunately, this also meant the scout had accidentally alerted the sky people of Trikru’s presence. Kova and Lincoln had been surprised to find the once peaceful camp suddenly in disarray when the scavenger group returned with news that they weren’t the only ones on Earth.

As for TonDC’s training camp? Needless to say, word of the sky people spread across the grounds shamelessly.

“It seems like the Descendants didn’t know there were still living humans here!”

“Hah! The Betrayers were full of rich, wealthy, and influential pigs who stepped on others to survive! I wouldn’t be surprised if they taught their children, including these so-called Descendants that they were the last humans!”

“How self-centered!”

“Do you all have nothing else to do but gossip?” Kova’s sharp voice came from the table behind the gossiping warriors. “Go train like proper students. I’m tired of hearing your voices.”

The warriors turned their heads so viciously towards them that Kova felt second-hand whiplash. The group of warriors faced Kova, faces red in anger, affronted, ready to give Kova a piece of their mind, most likely something along the lines of “How dare you speak to your elders/higher ranks like that!”

That was, until, they realized who had admonished them with little care for respect. Embarrassed at being called out by the great Elephant of Caocin, they shamefully grabbed their things and left. Kova had no doubt that the group was cursing them out as they made their way to the training ground.

Kova took another sip of tea from the cup they made when they returned from scouting. After 12 hours of traveling by tree, running around thick and sturdy branches, noting down important aspects of the camp and the Descendants, they had finally been relieved and were ordered to report to the Chief about their findings.

The most important note of their scouting session was that, yes, one of the Descendants had a gun, just as the scout who had speared the sky boy mentioned in their report. Why? Nobody knew. Not even Chief Indra of the Unforgiving generation, the oldest living generation on Earth, had seen a gun in her lifetime.

Thankfully, as far as they were aware of, there was only one gun. But the idea of the Descendants owning a weapon like that, a weapon practically extinct yet still taboo throughout the twelve clans, didn’t sit well with the Chief. The Chief immediately sent word to Lieutenant Anya, General Tristan, and the Commander herself, just in case.

Two taps on the calf of their legs, resting comfortably on the chair opposite of theirs, brought them back to the present. Without thinking, they held their legs in the air for a moment to let Lincoln sit across from them before placing their legs back down on his lap, careful to not let the outsole of their shoes brush against his pants.

They gave him a questioning look. He wordlessly handed over an envelope, closed by a wax seal with a familiar intricate design. Kova couldn’t help but look away and shut their eyes, taking the envelope and dropping it carelessly, seal facing the table. “That seal,” they took in a deep breath, eyes tightening shut, “that damned seal haunts my dreams.” They muttered under their breath and opened their eyes. “What mission did you get?”

Lincoln shook his head. “Not sure yet. I wanted to open it with you. But Kova—” they raised their eyebrows slightly at the usage of their real name. “—the Commander and Lieutenant Anya gave you 3 years of medical leave.”

A bitter laugh tumbled out of Kova’s mouth. “Medical leave? Is that what they’re calling it now, Lincoln?”

“You don’t have to return to Trikru’s militia yet, not if you don’t feel ready.”

“I’m never going to be ready.” Their gaze finally met his, yet Lincoln couldn’t feel relief, not when he could see the dark circles under their eyes, and the even darker look on their face. “I had seven years left of training before I can finally opt out of of the militia in good graces. I’ve spent two of those years in seclusion, I cannot spend one more minute in that damn residence. Especially now.”

For the first time in all his life, Lincoln realized, he wanted to plead — no, beg — for Kova to return to the residence. At least then he would know that they weren’t wearing themselves thin for a clan who forced their hand all those years ago. But their words stunned him, and while he stared at them wordlessly, mouth slightly agape, they took their envelope and pulled out the letter.

After a moment, he raised an eyebrow, as if to ask what they had gotten. “Lead protector of Fort Nauk.” They answered his unasked question and folded the letter back up neatly into the envelope. “You?”

He opened his and sighed before handing them the letter. They couldn’t help but snort. “Lead facilitator of the scouting group, huh? Looks like we won’t be able to see one another for a while.”

“A-Ko—”

“It says here you’ll be leaving tonight.” They handed the letter back. “Congrats, you get the job closest to all the action.”

“Will you be okay without me?”

“Shit, I better be okay, I have an entire fort to protect, apparently.” They meant to joke around, but their words came out with a tang of bitterness.

“Kova.” Ah shit. They knew that tone of his. “Be serious. Will you be alright? I don’t mind taking another mission to be closer to you.”

“You do that and I’ll never forgive you.” They snapped as they stood up. “I don’t need a baby sitter, I’ll be just fine on my own. It’s not my first time leading, nor is it my first mission.”

“Kova—”

“I better report to the Chief to let her know.”

“Kova, wait—”

“I’ll see you tonight.” And with that, they left Lincoln alone at the table.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They hadn’t meant for their conversation to end on such a bad note, but the idea of Lincoln sacrificing his own duties just to take care of them left a sour taste in their mouth. Truthfully, Kova had only taken a few steps away from Lincoln when they realized how childish they were acting, but whether it was out of pride or stubbornness, they refused to turn back. Instead, they found their feet taking them to the Chief, true to their previous words—

“Why do I feel like you would rather be anywhere else but this camp? The very same camp you begged to be part of all those years ago?”

—only to find themselves in the middle of another lecture.

Chief Indra stood behind her desk, facing the window of her tent, hands clasped behind her back. She tilted her head slightly towards Kova, who remained frozen in their spot, eyes glued to the floor.

“Why do I feel like you are still not happy?”

“Would you like for me to fake my happiness for your pleasure?” While their voice had softened considerably compared to their usual clear tone, their sharp words could not be dulled down.

“Kova!” The Chief whipped around, eyes flashing in anger, eyebrows furrowing together.

“My apologies, Chief, that was out of line.”

“That’s another thing. Since when did you start calling me Chief?” The Chief stepped towards them, and they ducked their head further, away from her gaze. She must have decided not to push on that topic, whether because she was afraid of the answer, or didn’t care as much as Kova thought. “A-Ko. You were once considered as Trikru’s pride and joy.” Her voice came out in a murmur, hinted with disbelief. “Yet here you are. What happened to you?”

Kova knew Chief Indra’s words delve far deeper than their conversation. Her words held two years of resentment of Kova’s voluntary seclusion, held the pain of not just losing her best warrior and student, but someone she had once considered family.

Despite knowing this, they couldn’t prevent their thoughts from growing bitter. ‘What happened to me? How could you possibly ask me that, knowing damn well what happened to me. Were you not there when the higher ups forced my hand at that mountain? Were you not there the second I became the feared mass murderer I am today? Were you not there when my family and I were praised and despised for my actions? What happened to me wasn’t my choice, I never asked for this, I never asked to be the Elephant of Caocin.’

The room had gone silent. It felt as if even the world outside the tent had fallen into hushed whispers. Confused, Kova looked up, only to find the Chief practically shaking in anger, fists trembling against her desk, her face adorning a scowl Kova hadn’t seen since their own breakdown two years ago. It was only then did Kova realize two things.

One, they had said their thoughts out loud.

And two, at some point, they had also started crying.

Fresh tears streaked down their cheeks, but they made no movement to wipe their face, terrified of catching the Chief’s attention.

“Elephant of Caocin,” the Chief started, her voice straining to contain her anger, preventing her from yelling, “is an honorary title, given by the Commander herself. How could you possibly—”

“While I didn’t mean to speak my mind, Chief,” They practically spat the word, their anger flaring, “I cannot believe that you chose to focus on that out of what I said.”

If this was a few years ago, when Kova still had respect for the militia and the clan, when their hands weren’t tainted by the bitter tang taste of chokeberries, blood and dirt, they would have respectfully asked for permission to leave Chief Indra’s presence. But this was no longer a few years ago. Kova no longer held any respect towards the Chief, towards the militia, or towards Trikru. Kova was no longer Kova. They were the Elephant of Caocin.

Thus, with a subtle bow of their head, one fist across their heart and the other behind their back, as customary, they left the tent, ignoring the calls of what had once been their name.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Kova had secluded themselves once more in their private tent after their talk with Indra. They had fallen into a mental black hole, one that took a few hours to climb out of. By the time they had left their tent, stomach grumbling in contempt, the sun was beginning to fall past the mountains surrounding the camp, ready to leave the warriors to defend themselves against the growing cold. ‘Winter must be coming sooner than we thought.’ The thought briefly passed their mind in a panic. They mentally noted that they would have to prepare their residence back at TonDC against the cold.

They had been on their way to the main campfire, where everyone would group to see of the scouts, only to be told by Zoya they had missed the scouts departures. Including Lincoln’s.

Frustration coiled in their chest like a familiar snake, and while Zoya had once known Kova like the back of her hand, and would never be afraid of them, she also knew the Elephant of Caocin had a short temper when it came to Lincoln or those close to them.

“They left recently,” She pointed Northeast with her thumb, forcing her hand not to tremble. “Since they’ll be setting up camp eventually, I think you can catch up with them.”

Without another word, Kova made their way out of camp and through the woods. Usually, a scouting mission like this wouldn’t bother Kova (unless it involved Azgeda). After all, they and Lincoln had gone weeks, months on end without seeing or hearing from one another, but this time was different. Maybe it was because they had ended on a bad note earlier that day. Maybe it was because of their talk with the Chief. Regardless of what it was, they had to at least say good bye, even if it meant they had to run to him this time, instead of away.

‘By the Gods,’ Kova thought as they ran through the woods, hopping over uprooted trees and roots alike, ‘Radios would sure come in handy right now.’

The elders, who were now mostly ancestors, had salvaged radios a few decades ago, and they worked perfectly fine until suddenly every single one of them had a strange frequency interference. The radio workers at the time said it was just lingering radiation.

‘Lingering radiation. Just wait until I can get my hands on one, let’s see if lingering radiation will stop me from reaching A-Lin.’ Kova mentally scoffed, their eyes focused on the task of finding their brother.

Poor Lincoln. They couldn’t help but wince at how he would react when (not if, when) he found out about their conversation with the Chief. They knew he wasn’t necessarily fond towards the Chief, but regardless, she was still their superior, their elder, one that had taken care of them not too long ago.

Their train of thoughts were pushed to the side when their eyes found a source of light from a campfire, and eventually stumbled upon the scouts themselves.

Before any scout could pull their swords out, they raised their hands and announced, “It’s me.”

Soft murmurs of ‘oh’ came from the scouts before they all decided to sit back down into their relaxing positions, placing their weapons to the side. Most were eating or talking, but there were a few scattered around who were simply sleeping. The ones who were awake greeted them with a simple nod.

“We were wondering when you would pop up.” One scout greeted Kova with a firm grip to their forearm, which Kova reciprocated. “Looking for Lincoln?”

They gave a subtle nod of their head, a soft “Mn.” following.

“He said his seclusion hut is nearby and went to pick up something he forgot.” The scout jutted their head towards their left. “He went that way.”

Kova raised an eyebrow ever so slightly in confusion, but if the scout had noticed the change in expression, they didn’t mention it. “Thank you. Good luck on the mission.” They turned around to leave—

“Wait, Elephant of Caocin!”

The name felt as if the young scout had poured cold water down their spine. Kova turned back, slowly, hesitantly, as if ready for another lecture, but to the scouts, it looked like they had just stopped and waited to listen.

“It’s already dark out,” The scout spoke, and Kova realized their words were true — the sun was gone, replaced by a bright moon, as if mocking their predicament. “Why don’t you stay until Lincoln returns? We have extra food if you’d like to eat. He should be back soon.”

They clenched their jaw. All they wanted to do was find Lincoln. But they also knew the scout’s words were, once again, true. There would be no point running around the forest blind. They’ve visited Lincoln’s hut before, but not to the extent where they knew where to go based on their position in the forest.

Letting out a small huff of visible breath, they gave the scout a curt nod. After having a quiet dinner alone, they settled on what would have been Lincoln’s mat, knowing that when he returned, the two could have a serious talk, and, hopefully, Kova could apologize.

As they settled on their side underneath their fleeced-jacket-turned-blanket, Kova briefly wondered if they would even be able to sleep tonight. Their thoughts derailed to their time in seclusion, how they tried so desperately to sleep, even when their residence would become so dark at night, they couldn’t be sure they still had their eyes. But now, with the light of the stars above them, they could see their hand in front of them, fingers relaxed. They could see the tall grass surrounding the mat, some facing away under the crushing pressure of Lincoln’s bed. And they can see the tree line, where even more darkness, and maybe Lincoln, were.

During those two dark years in seclusion, there had been a few times where Kova would lie in bed for what felt like hours, and they would stare at what should have been the ceiling (if the hut wasn’t so damn dark at night) until their eyes burned and teared up from exhaustion, their muscles aching to relax for even one moment. Only then could they “sleep,” when in reality they would blink and find the ceiling streaked with sunlight and the roosters beginning to crow.

(The point of sleeping was to restore and energize their body, so why did they feel even more exhausted when they woke up?)

This is what happened on Lincoln’s mat, except when Kova blinked, instead of waking up to the sun rising as usual, they woke up in the midst of blue hour, just before the sun could shyly touch its rays upon the Earth.

They had hoped it was Lincoln who had woken them up, but when they sat up on their elbows, the entire camp was asleep, the campfire was merely ashes, and Lincoln was not there.

They shot upright. The scout that had been on watch startled, as if they had been falling asleep. If this was another time, Kova would have teased them with some light scolding, an amused look on their face.

But this was not another time, and Lincoln was not here.

They stood up, swinging their fleeced jacket over their shoulders smoothly.

“Elephant of Caocin, where are you going?” The scout stood up with them, but all it took was one strong, sleep deprived glare from Kova for the scout to slowly sit back down, a shocked look on their face. Kova softened their look, a hint of an apology behind their dark eyes before they turned back to the forest line.

“I’m going to find Lincoln. Don’t follow me.”

And with that, they walked out of the camp quietly.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moment Kova knew they weren’t being followed by the scouts, their walk became a light jog, then a run, then a full on sprint. If the sounds of leaves crunching under their shoes or their heavy footfalls didn’t alert the animals nearby, then surely the sound of their pounding heart would, each beat hitting their eardrums.

At night, Kova wouldn’t have been able to tell where Lincoln’s home was, but in the day, there were little signs of where it could be. There were a few areas where mushrooms that had been growing on trees were picked, where herbal plants had been cleanly cut off, and where opened seeds without their pits were lying around. Once they reached a familiar bush of little berries, one that Lincoln was fond of because it reminded him of the berry tarts his mother used to make for him when he was young, Kova knew they were almost there.

So one could only imagine their crestfallen shock when they finally reached the cave (that Lincoln turned into a home during his own seclusion), only to find it completely ravaged. The door of Lincoln’s home had been ripped off its hinges and thrown into the bushes nearby, and the once well cared for welcome mat inside the house had been stampeded over, with boot marks made of dirt trailing from the mat and down the stairs.

Kova stumbled forward once, twice, his name quietly tumbling out of their mouth until one of their knees gave out underneath them. The dirt and dust underneath their knee would surely stain their clothes, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care.

Before they could even think about what could have done this (or who, a small voice whispered in the back of their mind), they heard grunts and the sound of objects being thrown around in the house. At first instinct, Kova had thought he was in the midst of being ambushed and needed help, but it didn’t add up. He had been gone for the entire night, unless he chose to sleep there instead of the scout camp, but even then, if he was being ambushed, there would be the sounds of punches and kicks hitting their marks, not the sounds of paper shifting and metal mugs clattering across the floor. There was a heavy weight in their gut, as if to say wait it out. They knew better than to ignore their gut instinct, so they did.

Although they had been trained for situations such as this, Kova couldn’t push down the panic that rose in their throat when they heard not one, but two pairs of feet heading up the stairs, a thudding noise following with every step as if they were dragging something heavy. They ran and hid behind the bushes, peeking through them by spreading the leaves apart with one hand, while the other went straight down to the weapon holster on their thigh. Their fingers curled around the handle of their knife, but kept it sheathed.

They saw movement from deep within the house until two boys stepped out of the entrance, dragging a man between them. One boy carried the man by his legs and the other by his arms, but they must have been weak, seeing as the two dropped the body as soon as they passed the entrance, hunching over in exhaustion.

“Why is he so damn heavy?” One of them wiped the sweat off with the back of his hand.

It didn’t take much for Kova to recognize who the man was. Their eyes widened and they sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Lincoln, you damn fool.’ Kova had never seen the two boys before, but their clothing style was an obvious indicator they weren't part of the 12 clans, nor part of the mountain men. They must be the invaders from the dropship. Kova could only wonder how they found Lincoln, but didn’t have time to ponder over it, seeing as the two boys picked Lincoln up again.

The skin of their knuckles turned stark white as their fingers curled tightly around the hilt of their knife, ready to rip it out of its sheath. Yet they hesitated in killing the two boys.

They were reminded of the scouts’ reports when they first checked out the drop ship. When the invaders first landed, the scouts' reports contrasted with others, so it was unclear on their abilities. Kova never saw these kids fight, but one scout did and said they were out for blood and revenge. Another scout said they fought like how young children do over a toy. The invaders were unpredictable. The other reason they hesitated was the gun. Based on reports there was only one gun in that group, but who knew how many guns the invaders could have? As much as Kova would hate to admit it, they had no chance if the two boys had a gun on them. It would kill them quicker than they could even touch them. And they would rather die by Trikru’s hands than some invaders.

Kova knew better than anyone else when to choose their battles, despite wanting to choose them all. But for their safety, for Lincoln’s safety, the best plan they could think of was to request a rescue mission. Thus, they loosened their hold on their knife, hung their head, and let Lincoln go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⟻ Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ⟼

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[nish-s-random-writing]

Five More Minutes (1/?)

A USUK Fanfic

Summary: They were told how the world was going to end, but they would never be told when. Arthur Kirkland is 14 years old and had accepted the end of the world, but what he couldn't accept was that his best friend and maybe crush was to die without ever really smiling again. If he had five more minutes left to breathe, he'd want to spend them knowing Alfred Jones was happy. 

|| FF.net Link ||

They said the world was going to end like this:

From giant rings and metal tubes being built towards the sky, sticking straight out of the hollowed ground, titanic fumes would be released into the air—fumes that would bleed into the atmosphere, that would dissolve trees’ leaves like paper in water. Among the fumes, all the oxygen in the world would amount to a needle in a haystack, eventually being reduced to nothing. The fumes aimed to kill and destroy, aimed to bleed into one’s lungs and deprive them of precious air. The fumes were poison.

And they would be invisible.

No one knew when they would come. No one knew when the poison would start to be fed into the air, and no one would be able to see it begin. But the tubes were on full display; the workers of the law gradually built great hollow structures of metal and concrete, all over the world, and in Arthur’s town, there were three.

Like football fields being stacked on top of one another, they rose higher and higher.

Arthur saw people protesting, saw them hurling stones and rallying, but metal fences kept them nearly a mile away from the construction sites, their screams meaning nothing.

It was the government, they said. And the government didn’t stop all the news people and TV people to broadcast what they were doing all over the world. After all, every country was on board with the destruction. Not the people of course, but their governments. And they were all silent.

Any group of citizens that dare sabotage the work were killed without a second thought. That was the aim anyway—to kill them. All of them.

Sitting on his rooftop, Arthur watched one of the tubes being built over the horizon, its rim now above the old factory in the distance. Rooftops rimmed with the golden sunset glinted out of reach of its shadow, and the misty silhouette of city buildings clouded the orange sky beyond.

He looked to the boy sitting next to him, his sandy hair whipping all about his face and loose hoodie moving restlessly in the summer wind. In the golden light, his precious blue eyes were almost green.

“Alfred,” Said Arthur, shifting his weight on his hands. “Would you have stopped this, if you could?” He swallowed, eyes flickering from the rooftops and to his friend, then back again.

Alfred smiled, bitterly, eyes focused on the horizon—or perhaps on the construction. “Of course. But if I tried, I’d die anyway.” He laughed, short and sarcastic.

“Well,” Arthur lowered his eyes. “Aren’t we all going to die anyway? I would’ve thought you would, perhaps, run at full speed towards them with grenades in your hands with the justification that you ‘at least tried’.”

Alfred laughed again, a bit less sarcastic. “Like you said, we’re all gonna die anyway. I just think it’s a bit more heroic to stay here and live life, and help others live life, and give them a smile before we all go, you know?”

He was smiling now, and Arthur smiled too.

“Is that what’s going to make you happy, then, before you go? Helping others?” The Brit asked.

Alfred shrugged. “Maybe. Well, it’ll help, at least.” He turned to Arthur now with a lopsided grin. “Beats uselessly running towards a bunch of loaded guns and making my mom feel horrible afterwards. She doesn’t need two sons to mourn over. Heh.” Arthur didn’t smile. “And hey you’ll finally be rid of the ‘stupid bloody git’ you’re always complaining about.”

Arthur frowned then. His fist curled towards the rusty metal beneath his palms. “You know I don’t hate you…”

His voice was weak. Alfred had been like this for a while now. Sarcastic smiles and all accepting and cozying up to the notion of inevitable death. He was too melancholic, too… too sad. It wasn’t like him, and Arthur knew his best friend, known him for seven years, for half their lives.

Alfred dropped the smile, worry edging into his eyes. He tried to be nonchalant, but that’s not how Alfred worked. Arthur knew, Arthur saw.

“I know that,” said the teen, placating. He looked at Arthur for a moment, concerned eyes searching his face, then he opened his arms with a small smile playing on his lips.

Arthur crawled forward without a second thought. He curled up into that familiar body and hooked his arms around the waist. He let Alfred hold him, and neither said a word.

They stayed there until the sky was black; and it was black without the sparkle of even a single star.

--- - -  - - - -- -  -- - - -

Arthur walked out the door to a grey and dusty morning. Living on the edge of a city, in the suburbs where people always had places to be, Arthur was used to the noise and yelling, to the honking cars and thrumming engines.  But this morning, it was quiet.

Ever since the tubes, it had been very quiet indeed.

People walked now, or biked everywhere, with few people bothering to hop into their cars anymore. Around half of the people never even bothered to go to work, while the other half stuck to their nine-to-five schedules to keep up some semblance of a normal life. Arthur’s mother was one of those people, and he watched her speeding down the driveway in their rusty van in the bleak light of day.

Arthur didn’t go to school nowadays. He couldn’t think of anyone who did anymore. And yet he was to be found hitching his backpack up his shoulders at 8 am on his front porch, dressed comfortably for the chilly autumn air.

He walked down the sidewalk, the rustling of leaves filling his ears. The houses and their gardens were all quiet, shrouded in a muddy yellow light that matched the dead feeling of the world. From windows and behind picket fences, muted faces gave him muted glances, brief flickers of interest, and then the people went back to whatever they were doing—gardening, conversing… it didn’t matter, not to them, not to anyone.

A block later, Arthur was looking up towards the roof. On that one charming little house sat Alfred, staring off into the distance, wind ruffling his loose hoodie like a flag around his teenage frame.

It didn’t take long for him to walk through the house, up the stairs and the ladder to the roof. He sat next to Alfred, and without any notice from the other boy, hefted his backpack onto his lap and started rifling through.

After perhaps a long minute of shuffling around, Alfred turned to him inquisitively.

“Uh, watcha got there, Artie?”

Arthur looked up, once, before sticking his nose back into his pack without responding.

Alfred waited, and waited, and then Arthur sat up with a triumphant smile, his hands now stilled in his backpack, obviously already holding onto whatever he’d been searching for.

Slowly, with a smug grin, Arthur pulled out a think book secured tightly in a somewhat dusty sheen of plastic. Alfred squinted, confused, and then his eyes widened suddenly and his face was frozen in that precious look of shock that had Arthur giggling as he recognized the identity of the brightly colored book cover.

“I meant to give this to you the other day,” said the Brit, holding down a chuckle. “But boy, if I’d known this was to be your reaction I would’ve gotte—”

“H-how?” Alfred gasped, grabbing at the book. The comic book. A copy of the very first original edition of one of Alfred's most treasured comic book series in perfect mint condition. “Arthur—! This… this thing’s like, an artifact! How…?”

Alfred stared, eyes tearing up. He read the dates and turned it over in his hand, verifying its authenticity.

Arthur gave him a warm smile. “Old Billy over at the shop down the block’s been selling this thing for over a hundred dollars since last year. I’ve been eyeing it for you, actually, wondering if he’d settle for ten dollars one day. I supposed last week was the day because I’d seen him dumping out the contents of his shop, I suppose he was closing up, and agreed to let me have it for five bucks.”

It’s been a while since Arthur saw Alfred smile this wide. His friend was a huge nerd, and he knew this fact very well. He’d been rather down ever since the tubes, much like everyone else. He’d been sitting on the rooftop, he’d been shutting people out. He didn’t read his books or play his video games, he simply… sat there. Much like his mother in her room, he supposed.

But now, when Alfred wrapped his arms around him tightly, burying that grinning face into Arthur’s coat, he felt that he’d finally done something right for his friend. He couldn’t do much when they had Matthew’s funeral, he couldn’t do much when they heard the media spread the recent news, but if he could do anything to make Alfred happy for whatever’s left of their lives, then he would’ve done something right in the world.

But even in that serene moment of peace, in the quiet that draped over the city, the distant, constant, banging of metal was not lost on them. The tubes grew taller each and every day, and the sound was like the ticking of their time bomb.

---------

(a/n): yeet, so I hope you liked that. tell me watcha think and I might actually have it in me to keep writing lmao luv ya~

[decideroffate]

Story Preview?

A sneak peak of the P5 fanfic I’ve been talking about with a female protagonist. It’s not done, not close to being ready for posting, and this part is going to need editing. But… y’know…

City life was always the move, this night was no different. Some loved the glitz and glam, the hustle and bustle, some could only handle it in vacationing, if even that. But what vitally everyone could agree on, was that the city simply light up the night.

The casino, the nighttime centerpiece, was usually full of life at these hours. And it was, until a few minutes ago. The alarm sounded, silencing the chatter and gaming one would expect. A few individuals knew when to fold them, metaphorically, and pushed their way through the crowd in an attempt to leave the building. Other stood around in groups, trying to figure out just what was going on.

For the most part, the crowd was surprisingly calm. There was a bit of chatter of confusion, no doubt, but at the same time, no one was trampling a fallen person, or shoving against each other in an attempt to leave. Even when a trio of men in black suits walked in.

“Quite the audience we have tonight,” an unknown voice projected over the murmuring crowd. “I do hope I don’t disappoint.”

Attention went to the chandler in the middle of the room, hanging about halfway down with a flat surface facing the ceiling. A feminine figure stood on the surface of the chandler, hanging on to the suspension wire in one hand, while a briefcase was tucked under the other arm. She wore a black coat with a white domino mask covering half her face. Layered black hair fell over her shoulders with a gentle curl at the end of the tips.

Those closest to the chandler would have noticed the confident smirk on the girls face as her eyes scanned the crowd. Upon spotting the men in black heading towards her, one with his hand over an earpiece, no doubt calling for back up, she fluffed her hair and gave the audience a playful wink. She turned and with a slight bend to her knees, she leapt to the next light fixture.

……

“Good work,” said Mona, “now get running!”

Joker landed on the next fixture with a slight bend to her knees. Straightening herself up she brought her free hand to her ear, making sure her own ear piece was secured in place. Satisfied, she sprinted forward, ready to make the leap onto the next two light fixtures. “Yeah, I know. We only have one shot at this and I’m not about to screw it up.”

“But I have to say, showing yourself above that crowd was an excellent move.”

Landing on a semi-circle light with a glass pane, Joker spotted a trio of men in the black suits hurry onto the foyer she was headed for. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ll need to change the route.”

“No worries,” Oracle said. “I can guide you. Everyone else, head to positions. Use Route B!”

Joker moved straight a head, coming across a line of arched pillars until she landed on the sturdier ground of a rounded balcony. If she had to guess, she’d say that was where the bar was. Two of the suits cut off Joker’s path, but before do anything, their bodies convulsed, their congenital human skin turning into black muck. Their distinct faces now featureless blue masks.

The confident smirk returned to Joker’s lips as she tossed the briefcase aside. She readied herself to perform a half-cartwheel, twisting her body so she could follow up with a series of flips towards the Shadow. On the last flip, Joker used the momentum to gain added height she was able to get herself on the Shadow’s shoulders upon landing. Her gloved hand slapped itself on the blue mask, pulling until it popped off. Joker leaped off as the Shadow’s shape changed into a large mechanical bull-like creature with a white cravat and a lower body that was an odd combination between a centaur and naga.

Joker reached into her coat, pulling out a knife as she lowered herself in a defensive stance. “Comparing power levels…” Oracle spoke more to herself than to Joker. Until she got something they would both like. “All right, no threat, not even a challenge. Get ‘em, Joker!”

She nodded as though her accomplices were right there in front of her. Her free hand reached up for her mask and yanked it off. “Arsene! Ravage them!”

A red and black figure appeared behind her in a flurry of blue flames. The creature lowered itself into a genuflect, as the shadow was taken out with an Eigaon curse. It stumbled back, fazed. Quickly, Joker placed her mask back on, causing the red and black creature to disappear. She pushed herself forward, driving her blade into the Shadow’s body. As it disappeared into a black haze, Joker sprinted to grab the discarded briefcase. Before she could celebrate, another Shadow brought down a sparking police baton.

Flipping backwards, Joker kicked the baton out of the Shadow’s hand. Straightening herself, she turned on her heel, and sprinted forward. She jumped up, using the balcony railing to give herself added lift and leapt onto a light pillar. Pulling off a similar maneuver, Joker leapt onto the foyer above it.

“Showoff,” she heard Panther tease.

“Okay, this works out,” added Oracle. “Go through that door behind you.”

Joker looked over her shoulder first before she turned to find a door marked ‘employees only.’ It was not long before she found herself in the back rooms of the casino. She ducked out of sight when she spotted one of the agents at the end of her path. The agent was speaking with someone on his team. “Yes, understood.” The agent instinctively nodded. “I’ll continue the search.”

Lowering his hand from the corresponding ear, the agent took off down the direction Joker had just come from. Unaware that the person he was looking for was crouched behind the casino’s laundry cart. Once the agent was out of earshot, Joker stood back up, and headed straight for the stairs at the end off the hall.

At the head of the stares Joker plastered her back against the wall, keeping an ear out for any voices or foot-falls from oncoming agents. Realizing the cost was clear she went to the window, once again plastering her back to the wall. She peered out the window, spotting the rows of people at computers and the monitors at the end of the room. Security no doubt doing what they could to find Joker.

“She’s not alone! Fine them and kill them all!”

Crap.

Joker continued her trek, unnoticed by security as she walked right past them. Coming up to another flight of stairs Joker vaguely noticed the briefcase growing heavy in her arms. The stairs lead her to a hallway with a metal door at the end. She threw her free arm forward as she approached it, throwing the door open. Joker nearly threw herself to the banister overlooking the more higher-class shindigs. “Something wrong?” asked Oracle. “The exit should be up ahead.”

Her brow furrowed as she looked on ahead. A multi-colored stain glass window was directly in front of Joker. “Their?” Joker asked flatly.

She heard Oracle let out a sound of discomfort. “That’s just how it is… You didn’t really expect to be able to walk thought the font door after all that, did you? Wait… can you even make it?”

Joker bit her lower lip for a moment while she scrutinized the area. “Yep,” she said devoid of any sarcasm.

“There she is! Over there!”

Peering over her shoulder, Joker spotted three agents, their guns drawn and aimed straight at her. “No escape!” shouted one of them.

A plastered smile formed on Joker’s face. She held the flap of her coat between her thumb and ring finger in her free hand. She swept her right leg behind her left, and lowered herself into a brief curtsy. Fluidly, Joker turned towards the banister, placed her free hand firmly on the surface, and pushed herself up. She ran effortlessly atop the banister, literally cutting a corner as she approached the edge to safe a little time. Stopping in front of the window, Joker raised her free hand up to the top of her head, she swiftly lowered it in a salute.

And then she threw herself at the window.

Her arms and the briefcase shielded her face as glass flew around her. She maneuvered herself in midair, rolling onto her feet upon landing. As soon as she stood up light’s switched on around her. Her free arm shielded her eyes from the sudden change.

“Enemies here?!” Oracle asked in disbelief.

“What’s wrong?!” demanded Skull.

“These readings… It can’t be!”

“What happened?!”

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” Noir chanted.

Joker pursed her lips to the side. The police, armed and ready to take action surrounded her, their spotlights aimed directly at her. “Sorry,” Joker muttered, reaching for her earpiece.

“Joker!” Fox shouted as Joker dropped it onto the ground.

She drove her heel into it, the device crackling under the pressure. The deed done, Joker sprinted to the right, spotting a fire escape ladder completely unattended. The instant she took a step the frontline of police moved in after her. Joker needed a jumping start in order to reach the first rung of the ladder. This action, and the act of pulling herself up, should have been an easy act for her. But not so much when she still had the briefcase in her arm.

Joker made the mistake of looking down to find her pursuers falling over themselves to climb up after her. Several dozen police officers and one ladder, there were bound to be a few traffic jams. But when she looked up, Joker realized too late that a line of officers (did she dare guess, snipers) waiting for her when she reached the top.

The gunman waiting at the head of the ladder repositioned his gun before he slammed the butt into Joker’s face. The force knocked the wind out of her, her hand slipped from the rung and she found herself free falling. The briefcase slipped from her grasp, landing a few meters away from where Joker landed.

Winded, she wasn’t given the chance to process what happened before she was forced down on her font, her arms held firmly behind her back with another hand planted between her shoulders. The chief of police approached her, looking down at the sorry sight in front of him. “Wasn’t expecting some little girl,” he confessed, lowering himself onto one knee. He gripped Joker by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. “You have your teammate to thank for this. You were sold out.”

“Wha…?!” He released Joker’s face before he stood back up.

One of the officers released Joker’s right arm and pulled it back. A rush of panic claimed Joker before rational thought. She squirmed against her captors, chanting ‘no, no, no’ over a metallic tinkling.

“Suspect confirmed, cuff her!”

[allcheatscodes]

halo 3 odst xbox 360

http://allcheatscodes.com/halo-3-odst-xbox-360/

halo 3 odst xbox 360

Halo 3: ODST cheats & more for Xbox 360 (X360)

Cheats

Unlockables

Hints

Easter Eggs

Glitches

Guides

Achievements

Get the updated and latest Halo 3: ODST cheats, unlockables, codes, hints, Easter eggs, glitches, tricks, tips, hacks, downloads, achievements, guides, FAQs, walkthroughs, and more for Xbox 360 (X360). AllCheatsCodes.com has all the codes you need to win every game you play!

Use the links above or scroll down to see all the Xbox 360 cheats we have available for Halo 3: ODST.

Also Known As: Halo 3: Recon

Genre: Shooter, First-Person Shooter

Developer: Bungie Software

Publisher: Microsoft Game Studios

ESRB Rating: Mature

Release Date: September 22, 2009

Hints

Heaven

First, go to Sandbox. Then, go to ball form (edit mode). Find a floating teleporter. Vwala. You’re there.

Kill Wraith Fast

All you have to do is grab a plasma pistol, charge it and shoot it. Run to the wraith and hit the back part of it. NOTE: it’s better if you keep charging your plasma pistol and shooting it so the wraith wont be able to move.

How To Kill A Brute Chieftain Fast

Sometimes Brute chieftains with hammers can be a pain in the butt. I found a way to kill them in seconds. OK, what you do is arm yourself with a plasma pistol and a rocket (if there’s one). First you wait till he’s in range, then you charge up your plasma pistol, fire a full charged plasma pistol at him, he will stop and his shields will be weak enough to be killed with only ONE rocket. Or if there’s a vehicle on the map then you can splatter them head on and instant kill.

Map Over View

On the level sandbox go to it in forge and turn into a robot and look up in the air and you should find a 2 way node fly through it and you should find your self looking down on a grid of the map. Don’t turn back into a human or you will fall and die what you need to do is drop a few things on the grid and then fly over the items you dropped and then you can turn into a human it is also fun to fill up the grid up with any thing to walk on and have fights up there.

Assembly SKULL

On the halo 3 mythic, go to forge and go to assembly and when you start go to the middle of the level and you will see a big tower and from the tower there are two pipes (one on each side)if you turn into the flying robot you can fly up to them and if you go to both of them and look on top of them you will see the skull on the pipe surrounded by orange bars.

Longshore Skull

The skull is located behind a vent by a blue fish sign. The vent overlaps the water. I recommend going in forge mode and getting to it, you might die in the process, so don’t worry if you do it is hard to get behind the vent.

Sgt. Johnson

To get sgt. Johnson, you can only get him by reserving the game. When you reserve it, the store (if it participates in the event) will give you a token with a code to unlock him. This info is useless to anyone after: 9-31-09.

How To Get A Wraith In Firefight

Just start a firefight mission that has a wraith and when the mission starts find a sniper rifle or carbine or anything you can snipe with snipe the gunner this will make it easier hold on to the sniper for later. Run up to it with a plasma pistol overcharge it and put down the wraith use melee to brake open the hatch-the thing in front of the gunner seat then when you can see his head crouch down to were it doesnt say hold rb to jack then hold rb and shoot it with your sniper and voila, you have it note: if you get out it will blow up.

Aa Wraith On Tsavo Highway

Go through the level until you get to the aa wraith items you`ll need:a plasma pistol, and a br55 or ma5c take out the gunner first board it and punch it 2 or 3 times the cockpit door should be busted charge your plasma pistol and shoot it should be down for about 3 to 5 seconds crouch to where it doesn’t say hold rb to board then hold rb and shoot him when he dies you should have jacked the aa wraith.

Easy Triple Kill With Laser

Go to lost platoon on campaign (put scoring on) and use the laser on the wraith and you should get a triple kill or go to firefight (u can put either team or free for all I like team) and go to either lost platoon or ONI alpha site.

Easy Both Tubes Achivement

All you have to do is when you get on the tank give one rocket launcher to a marine riding on it and the other one behind the tank to another and let them take a couple of shots. Give it to the both riding in front and you will get it faster.

Hidden Place On Sand Box

GO to Forge mode and go to sand box. Once you’re in sand box there is a teleporter above the map if you go through it, you would be on top of the map. Also if you delete everything there will be a box in the ground. Delete it and go down the tunnel. Then after that you will reach the secret room. Then all you have to do is have fun.

Toggle Between Pan-Cam And Normal

During a local game hold: Left Analog Stick + Right Analog Stick and press LEFT when “Show Coordinates” is active.

It’s Confidential

On the mission Tayari Plaza a little bit after you meet up with the marine they’ll be one of the roadblock things with an elite dead over it. You go a bit farther and a wall says “BELIEVE” and there will be tons of dead elites. Buck will then ask DARE what’s up with the elitse and she’ll say it’s confidential.

Another Fast Way To Kill A Brute Chieftain

Yes the brute chieftain is a pain but when it comes down to it hes not all that tuff. As he charges toward you with the gravity hammer avoid it and follow close behind and melee it in the back for a quick kill and hes out of your way as well works good for any charging enemies.

Flamethrower Location On Data Hive

On the mission The Data Hive on any difficulty there is a ice covered room. Instead of turning right to get to Dares location you go straight. Then on the right there should be the flamethrower. Then also if you kill 10 enemies you get the I like fre achievement.

Easy My Clothes Achievement

First you overcharge your plasma pistol at a brute. After that you hit be and on the side of your screen it will say “MY CLOTHES”. You must get 10 in one mission to get the achievement.

Kill A Brute Chief With No Ammunition

To save ammo on the gravity hammer user kill him after you get him to swing hit him in the back to assassinate it works when his shield is on to.

Sandbox Secret Room

First and foremost do the level sandbox on forge once you have done that then turn into the robot. In the middle of the map there is a type of pyramid, inside of the pyramid there is a grav lift, the little square where the grav lift is on can be deleted [square looks like part of ground] once deleted there will be a hole where the square was, jump through. You will fall for little while then you will fall into a pretty big room then put whatever you want in the room and play like you would above ground.

Easy Kill

An easier way to kill the big guys with shields and green lasers are hard to beat, but there’s a way to kill them. Any gun would work, preferably a good one. Get close to the brute and when he tries to strike you with his arm, sidestep and get around him. Once around him you shoot, or hit, him in the orange part of his back. Do this a few times and he will surely fall.

Mongoose

There are mongooses in most of the supply caches so look for them.

Sandbox Skull

On halo 3 mythic on sandbox this skull is somewhat hard to get. There is two methods one you can create a tube all the way out to it (by the way its out in the area where you get shot. Out on the edge of the map in a small ditch) using building materials. Another way is two set a trip mine down and set it on instant respawn. Grab it and keep throwing it down time after time until the explode overloading the map. You are free to walk in the area they shot because they don’t shot you. I prefer this way because it is easier but you can try the other method if you like it.

Orbital Skull

On the halo 3 mythic, go to forge and go to the level orbital and when you start walk around until you find a corner at the end of two hallways where you will see two crates and a hallway above with glass windows and the side will have a yellow and black bar with cones in front of it. If you look over the rail you will see steam. Anyway, if you switch to the flying robot and go to the very top you will see two black platforms sticking out of the wall. If you look between them you will see the skull but you can’t get to it so land and turn sideways then switch back to human. Walk around scaling the wall (it may be a little hard to do but if you keep trying you will make it) and then the skull will appear in front of you in the little corner of the black platform.

Cheats

Toggle Show Coordinates

During a local game hold: LB + RB + Left Analog Stick + A + Up.

Toggle Hide Weapon

During a local game hold LB + RB + Left Analog Stick + A + Down.

Unlockables

Firefight Characters and Missions

“Buck” Firefight Character Complete “Tayari Plaza” on Normal or higher.

“Mickey” Firefight Character Complete “Kizingo Boulevard” on Normal or higher.

“Dare” Firefight Character Complete the Campaign on Legendary difficulty.

“Dutch” Firefight Character Complete “Uplift Reserve” on Normal or higher.

“Romeo” Character Complete “NMPD HQ” on Normal or higher.

Lost Platoon Complete the Uplift Reserve campaign mission on any difficulty.

Alpha Site Complete the ONI Alpha Site campaign mission on any difficulty.

Chasm Ten Complete the Date Hive campaign mission on any difficulty.

Last Exit Complete the Coastal Highway campaign mission on any difficulty.

Easter eggs

Currently we have no easter eggs for Halo 3: ODST yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Glitches

My Clothes Achievement Glitch

When you kill a jackal with a shield take their plasma pistol and if more jackals are around with shields charge your pistol and shoot their shields and melee them and in the right bottom corner (i think) it will say my clothes and however many kills you got doing this. (it may not work all the time but it worked every time for me)!

Secret Room On Longshore Glitch Video

Guides

Currently we have no guides or FAQs for Halo 3: ODST yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Achievements

Full Achievements List

Heal Up: Find your first Medical Kiosk and use it to heal yourself. (5 pts)

Tourist: Access the city map and download it to the VISR. (5 pts)

Dark Times: Kill five of your enemies in VISR mode. (5 pts)

Boom, Headshot: Get headshots in any level using an automag. (5 pts)

Stunning: Use a plasma pistol to stun a vehicle and then immediately kill thedrive. (5 pts)

Ewww, Sticky: Kill 5 enemies in a level using sticky grenades. (5 pts)

My Clothes: Overcharge your plasma pistol and then immediately kill 10 Brutes. (5pts)

Pink and Deadly: Kill 5 enemies using the Needler Supercombine (any covenant). (5pts)

Trading Down: Trade weapons with another character. (5 pts)

Headcase: Finish a level with an active Skull. (5 pts)

Tayari Plaza: Complete the Tayari Plaze level (on Normal, Heroic or Legendary).This will also unlock a Firefight character. (30 pts)

Uplift Reserve: Complete the Uplift Reserve level (on Normal, Heroic orLegendary). This will also unlock a Firefight character. (30 pts)

Kizingo Boulevard: Complete the Kizingo Boulevard level (on Normal, Heroic orLegendary). This will also unlock a Firefight character. (30 pts)

ONI Alpha Site: Complete the ONI Alpha Site level (on Normal, Heroic orLegendary). This will also unlock a Firefight character. (30 pts)

NMPD HQ: Complete the NMPD HQ level (on Normal, Heroic or Legendary). This willalso unlock a Firefight character. (30 pts)

Kikiwani Station: Complete the Kikiwani Station level (on Normal, Heroic orLegendary). This will also unlock a Firefight character. (30 pts)

Data Hive: Complete the Data Hive level (on Normal, Heroic or Legendary). Thiswill also unlock a Firefight character. (50 pts)

Coastal Highway: Complete the Coastal Highway level (on Normal, Heroic orLegendary). This will also unlock a Firefight character. (50 pts)

Completing Campaign on Normal, Heroic or Legendary: Get 100 points for each.Junior Detective: Find your first mystery-unraveling clue. (10 pts)

Gumshoe: Find your third mystery-unraveling clue. (10 pts)

Super Sleuth: Find your final mystery-unraveling clue. (10 pts)

Both Tubes: Kill 10 enemies with the Rocket on Kizingo Boulevard. (5 pts)

Laser Blaster: Kill 10 enemies with the Spartan Laser on ONI Alpha Site. (5 pts)

Dome Inspector: Get 15 headshots in NMPD HQ. (5 pts)

I Like Fire: Kill 10 enemies with the Flamethrower on Data Hive. (5 pts)

Wraith Killer: Kill all Wraiths in Uplift Reserve. (5 pts)

Good Samaritan: Don’t kill any Engineers in New Mombasa at night during the entireCampaign, alone or with another ODST. (20 pts)

Naughty Naughty: Kill 10 Engineers in New Mombasa at night, alone or with anotherODST. (5 pts)

Listener: Find your first Audio Log. (5 pts)

Tuned In: Find 3 Audio Logs. (15 pts)

All Ears: Find 15 Audio Logs. (30 pts)

Audiophile: Find all the Audio Logs in the game. (75 pts)

Be Like Steve: Finish an entire round making only one kill. (5 pts)

Be Like Marty: Finish an entire round without making a single kill. (10 pts)

Scoring more than 200,000 points in Firefight on Crater, Lost Platoon, RallyPoint, Security Zone, Alpha Site, Windward, Chasm Ten or Last Exit: Get 10 pointsfor each.

Vidmaster Challenge – Classic: Complete any level solo on Legendary, on LIVE, withno shots fired or grenades thrown. (25 pts)

Vidmaster Challenge – Endure: In Firefight, on any mission, pass the 4th Set on4-player Heroic LIVE co-op. (25 pts)

Vidmaster Challenge – Déjà Vu: Complete Highway on 4-player Legendary LIVE co-op,with Iron, and no Warthog or Scorpion. (25 pts)